Slush Run? Icecapades? It's definiately not a race, is it!?

When I woke up for the Shamrock Shuffle...I saw this...

...and was not amused.

I mean, it's the end of March, people. Mother Nature clearly didn't get the memo.
(stupid wench.)

So I dug up my winter running gear and took a few preventative measures to keep my little piggies as warm as possible. Smart wools socks and duct tape...should be the indestructible combination for superior foot warmth.

Yeah. Didn't work so well. The tape was gone before the race even started. And my socks felt like they were retaining more water than a hormonal, pms-ing woman.
Lovely.

With friends in tow, we headed to the train to join the masses, and massive ice puddles, down at Grant Park.


Wet snow pelted everyone relentlessly from every angle.
And so Little Lauren and I tried to remain in good spirits. I kept a smile, but really...I just wanted to whine and go home.
While Lauren's inner rockstar had called her to HTFU, my inner rockstar was mentally snuggled up tightly in bed.

I don't have much to say about the race itself except it was irritating having to focus so intently on the ground in front of me rather than have my head up and really enjoy the race. Lauren kept reminding me to relax and be careful...the last thing I needed was to twist an ankle three days before my official Ironman training starts.

It was cold. It was wet. It didn't matter which direction you ran, you were always running directly into the wind and snow. It was highly annoying. There was so much water, glaciers may as well have been melting on various parts of the course. So add ice cold squishy shoes (which are still not completely dry yet) and I was simply thrilled to be running.

Once I got moving, my body warmed up (with the exception of my hands and feet) and things were fine for the most part. Hip flexors were tight, which was expected as I haven't been good about stretching the past couple of weeks. I ran the first two miles around an 11:00 pace, but after an ice dance that nearly wiped me out on the bridge in the west loop I didn't want to press my luck. So I backed off. And by mile 4...I just didn't care.

It was never my intent to set a new personal best. Or heck, even train for it (seriously, I had 12 miles on my legs for the year--all logged in February). So I wasn't about to safcrifice my season to get to the finish line in under 50 or hell, 60 minutes.

And so I graciously take my 1:00:56, knowing that yesterday's run will definitely not be the most challenging run I clock this year. It's 10 minutes off of last year's pace. And no where near my potential. And I'm okay with that. If anything, I take away the knowledge that those obnoxious heart rate zone runs coach will be having me do soon, actually do work...and with patience and work, the speed will come back...

...sometime after I dethaw.

(this is me after the race!)

Ultimately, I got out there and ran...which is more than what half the field can say. Of the 32,500 registrants, only 13,294 crossed the finish line. I'm happy to be one of them.