Race report: Worcester Half-Marathon 5K

Last Sunday I ran my best race ever.

Granted my racing career consists of 3 races, but still, you gotta start somewhere.

I was a little apprehensive going into it because I wasn't exactly sure where the course went.

The organizer's site had a crappy Yahoo map up that was small and hard to read. I was hoping for a turn-by-turn description, but the best I could fathom was: Short red line. Turn. Long red line. Water stop. Double back.

I kinda sorta knew where it was going, but since the route was on a major street in a large, ahem, "urban" city, the ability to safely run the course before the race was unlikely.

I knew most of the race was on Chandler Street, which has no big hills, so I thought I'd be OK, given the last race's two Matterhornian inclines. Plus, my workout runs have some sucky hills in them, so I figured I wouldn't have too much of a problem.

The other source of anxiety is the race started and ended in downtown Worcester, which meant parking in downtown Worcester. However, the race start was early (7:30 am) and there was plenty of parking. I got there about 25 minutes before the half start, found a nice spot on street and walked about a 1/4 mile to the staging area.

Once at the staging area I passed a very impressive line for the Port a Potties, and then headed for the Half starting line, looking for a friend who I thought was running. I walked around to warm up and tried to pick her out of the crowd. I found her, on the opposite side of the street from me, just as she was crossing the starting line. Bad timing.

Once the Half was underway the announcer told us the 5K wouldn't start here, but back by the staging area. Um, OK. We all walked back to the staging area and looked around for a sign that said Start. The announcer eventually intoned: "Line up by the CVS." Glad it was super official, LOL.

I headed for the back of the pack, looked up and soon everyone was running. No gun, no countdown. OK. I quickly hit Start Workout on my Nike +iPod, started the heart rate monitor and was off.

There were no mile markers for the 5K, which is always a nice touch. Maybe next year? About 9 minutes into the race I saw a big 1 sign. I'm thinking, We can't already be a mile in. I'd be way off pace and I feel fine. I took out one ear bud and asked a runner next to me, That's not for us, is it? She agreed it was the 1 mile mark for the Half.

The 5K portion of this race appeared to be an afterthought to the half-marathon, understandably.

Since there were no mile markers, it made pacing a little difficult. However, the day was glorious. It was sunny, low 50s, with a nice dry air.

Seventy-five percent of the race was on Chandler Street and 100% of Chandler Street smells like garbage. But a flat course is appreciated by me, even if it's a stinky one. If that's the worst I can say, that's still a great course.

We got to what I assumed was the halfway point (again, no mile markers) and the water station. It was lined with spectators and volunteers, all of who were hooting and hollering and clapping for us as we rounded a pylon and headed back up smelly Chandler.

I really appreciate race spectators. Even though they're not there to see me run a 13-minute mile, they cheer and encourage nonetheless and make me feel like an elite athlete.

Soon, we were almost done with Chandler Street and I spied my watch. It read I was 38 minutes into the race. I only had a couple of turns left and then I would be heading for the finish. I think I can PR this thing. Maybe I can get in under 40. I wasn't sure exactly how long I had left (no markers!), but I picked up the pace a bit. The weather was so great, I felt really good.

Two turns later I saw the chute for the finish and sped up a little more. As I turned into a really long chute I saw the official clock: 39:50.

Nuts, no way I could cover the distance in time to do a sub-40-minute race, but I decided to sprint anyway. I knew it would be a PR, regardless.

I started racing toward the finish, trying to keep my form streamlined and also remember there was a race photographer with his lens trained on me: Head down. Suck in your stomach. Don't look like a dork.

Seriously, look at that photo. My leg kick is never, ever that high. I was jammin.

Turns out I ran a 40:14, which for me was great, 3+ minutes faster than my last race. Later, when I saw the official race results online, I noticed that a woman came in at exactly the same time as me. A 64-year-old woman. In my defense, she was very fit.

I went through the finish, returned the timing chip and grabbed 3 waters. Sitting on a shady bench, I got my breathing back to normal and perused my various gadgets to see how I fared. Really liked what the HRM had to say: 498 calories burned. Yeehaw.

After finishing 2 bottles of water, I walked over to the finish and clapped for the other runners coming in, trying to savor the moment. Not all races end like this, I wanted to enjoy it for as long as I could.

In which I set my summer weight loss goals

Goal-setting (short- and long-term) is an important part of the weight-loss adventure.

It gives you something concrete to work for and celebrate once you achieve it. And it can be a great motivator for staying on track when you're having a challenging time.

The combination of 27 lbs left to lose to my personal goal and the arrival have summer have me thinking about setting goals for the next 3 months and putting it down in writing - or, you know, here.

Nearing the end of the losing stage can be tricky. You're looking good and feeling great, and it's really easy to get distracted and take longer to reach the finish line.

I've been prone to that before, but I want to keep the pedal down and get to where I want to be as fast as I can.

Therefore, here are my personal weight-loss goals through Labor Day:

Hit 182.4 lbs to reach -100 lbs lost.

Hit 175 lbs to reach my WW Lifetime goal weight.

Hit 170 (more on this later).

Hit 160 (my personal goal weight).

Week 39 Weigh-In: A return to normalcy

In the past few weeks I went on vacation, gained a little weight, came home and tried to take it off with relative success.

This past week was my first full week home and back to normal: my schedule, food, exercise, etc.

I felt good all week and had a solid 7 days of planned eating and exercise. Well, 4 days of exercise. But, one of those was a 5K this past Sunday, which went awesome. I will post about that later.

Anyway, I came into this WI feeling good and optimistic about what the scale may reveal.

Going in, I just wanted to drop below 190.

Unfortunately, this was a weigh-and-go week as I had Family Day at my kids' preschool, so I had to be there and could not stay for the meeting.

Donna My Rock was not at the center today, but Holly was. Holly is pretty damn impressive herself, as she's lost - and kept off - more than 120 lbs.

I got on the scale and Holly told me I was down 3.4 lbs.

I like Holly.

So sayonara 190s, hello 180s, but don't get used to me because I am just passing through.

Total loss is now -94.8, just 5.2 away from the vaunted -100 and 12 lbs away from returning to No Pay Lifetime status.

I can't wait.

In which I am no longer obese

My friend Becca recently calculated her BMI and saw she made the move from obese to overweight.

If you're in the former and move into the latter, that's a big deal.

I read her good news and then thought, I wonder what my BMI is?

I'd never calculated it since rejoining WW because the answer, regardless of number, was "Too High."

But, as I've lost quite a bit of weight, I decided it was time and found an online calculator.

My starting BMI on Sept. 7, 2010 was 44.2.

My BMI today, 39 weeks later: 29.9...OVERWEIGHT!

Hooray!

To get my BMI into the Normal Weight category (18.5-24.9) I need to drop to at least 159 lbs, which is a solid long-term goal. Sure my big goal is to return to my Lifetime, no-pay WW goal weight: 175. But, after that, taking it down to 159 would be an interesting trip.

In which NSVs are really important

Last Monday I was bummed out.

My vacation weight gain was not coming off - at all - despite all my best efforts, eating and exercise.

In a quick aside, one of my Facebook friends likened a quick vacation-like gain to "wet cement" - if you don't try to get it off quickly, it will set. I thought that was a great way to put it.

Anyway, since the scale was giving me no love, I went looking for an NSV - a non-scale victory. I really needed a lift.

I headed to my closet and pulled out a pair of size 14 jeans my friend had handed down to me a couple of months of ago. At that time, they were so tight I couldn't get them past my thighs. A week or so before vacation I was able to get them on and zip them up. However, sitting or driving in them would likely cut off circulation to everything north of my equator.

I took the pants off the hanger and tried them on again. They fit, zipped up and were more comfortable than just a couple of weeks ago. They were still what I'll euphemistically call "form-fitting", but they were comfortable enough to consider wearing in public and without personal injury.

I felt better. Sure, the scale was not moving, but, hey, these pants didn't have a prayer of fitting a couple of months ago, and look where they are now - on my body.

NSVs are super important: When things are going great, they bolster you and when they're not, they remind you it's worth it.

In which I receive an unexpected compliment

Every Tuesday after my Weight Watchers meeting, I drive to a nearby grocery store to get my beloved avocado maki.

The store has a great sushi bar, and it's fantastic because the chef makes the rolls to order, so they're nice and fresh. I'm there every week at the same time like clockwork, so when the chef sees me coming I don't even have to order.

"Avocado maki!" he says with a smile and I go off and finish shopping while he makes the rolls.

This past Tuesday after finishing shopping, I swung by to pick up my order before heading to the checkout.

The chef's assistant looks at me and says, in heavily accented English: "You lose weight?"

"Yes, thanks."

"You look gooooooooooood!"

In which it's easier to fly

I'm not a big fan of flying. Never was before 9/11 and definitely not after.

But to get to many locales, it's the best - or only - way to go.

I don't fly much, but when I do I grin and bear it.

Another reason I disliked flying was the fact it's hard to fly when you're fat.

The seats seem too small, there's not a lot of room and that seatbelt is always a worry. I never had to ask for an extension, but it was very, very close. I always saw a seatbelt extension as another whole serious level of fat, as in a short hop to having to buy two seats.

When I'd fly before, I'd get to my seat, throw back the armrest (couldn't afford to give up those few inches) and extend the seatbelt as far as it could go. I'd plunk down and pray I'd get the belt to click. It was a stressful few minutes from the time I entered the jetway until I heard that click.

Then it was just plain uncomfortable for the duration of the flight: wedged in a seat, hoping the person(s) in my row didn't have to get up and use the bathroom. And lowering the tray table? A snack and a drink aren't as fun when the table is pressing into your gut.

Fast forward to two weeks ago today when I entered a jetway for the first time in 4 years. There was no stress, no anxiety (apart from my whole normal flying anxiety, that is).

I got to my seat, got my 5-year-old situated and buckled, left the armrest down (thankyouverymuch) and reached for the belt. Not only did it click, it was way too loose. I tightened it and then grabbed my point-and-shoot to get the picture above of all the leftover belt.

The picture won't make it in our Disney album, but I sure won't forget it.