This coming Sunday I’m running a dinky little marathon in Goodyear, Arizona. It’s the IMS Marathon, and this is only the second year of the race (last year they scheduled it the same day as the Phoenix Rock ‘n Roll, so turnout was ridiculously low). I can think of no better way to celebrate Valentine’s Day than to drag my stubby legs 26.2 miles in the arid southwestern heat.

Recently I wrote about how Jason ate pavement at the Vancouver half marathon last year and signed up for the 2009 race for redemption (aka Operation De-Bruise the Ego). His goal was to run the half in 1:40 to 1:45 and spare himself a trip to the medical tent this year, whereas my goal was to do between 1:50 and 1:55. How’d we do? Well, we headed up to Vancouver on Saturday, stuffed our faces at Cioppino’s, and got to bed at a reasonable time so we’d get a little shuteye before our 5:45 wake up time. When I got up I was sportin’ a lovely headache and did my usual morning-of-the-race grumbling. I sucked down some Advil and geared up for the run. We ducked out the door and jogged to the start of the race for an early morning warm up, then shoved our way as close to the starting point as possible. When the race officially began, Jason and I both spent the first two miles dodging people and trying to run at a decent pace. Much to Jason’s annoyance, he had to pass a ton of people who had no business being at the start of a half marathon (like people with walking sticks who had positioned themselves among the 6 minute mile runners). I, meanwhile, got freakishly overheated in the balmy 60 degree weather despite my attire of shorts and a sleeveless shirt. I attributed my Hot Head Syndrome to the visor I was wearing, so I stripped it off and ran while holding it for a bit before getting tired of carrying it and chucking it into a bin. With my head blissfully naked, I was able to concentrate on running. Or so I thought. Even though I did the customary pre-race Glide application and despite the fact that I had worn these shorts on plenty of runs in the past, for some reason during the race my shorts kept riding up on me and I had to do an awkward shimmy shake every few hundred feet to try and yank the fabric back down. I can only imagine what it was like to run behind me the entire race. I waged this battle for the entire 13.1 miles, cursing my thighs and these godforsaken shorts. The run itself went pretty well. I had the usual ups and downs and would suck down Gu and water whenever I felt an energy lull. At mile 10 I was running hard and had a Jason moment where my vision temporarily tunneled and I felt light-headed for a few seconds. I wondered if it was my turn to pass out, but thankfully the feeling subsided and I was able to resume running. Hooray for staying upright! I approached the finish line and saw Jason at the sidelines wrapped in a space blanket, so we went 2/2 on the “no passing out” goal. I finished the race in 1:52 and some change, which is a 4 minute PR from last year’s time and a 12 minute improvement from my first ever half marathon. Yeah, beeyotch! Jason also achieved his goal, having finished in 1:41 and sparing his veins from invasive IV needles. I celebrated my achievement with an ice bath, a Wendy’s bacon and cheese baked potato, a dim sum lunch and the coveted post-race nap. Later that evening we caught a movie and ate gigantic steaks at Gotham. (Post-race gorging is easily the best part of training and competing.) All in all, the race went well for both of us this year (aside from excruciating chafing). Huzzah for improved times, healthy bodies and great food. We’ve...

Yesterday Jason and I ran the Vancouver half marathon. Jason dubbed it his “vindication race,” and before I talk about how we did, I feel I have to explain why he nicknamed it that. Time to flashback to last year’s half marathon. Cue the wavy lines… Okay, pretend it’s 2008. Jason and I are driving up to Canada to do the Vancouver half marathon. This will be my 2nd half marathon, and my goal is to finish in under two hours (my first half marathon was in Port Angeles a couple years before, and I finished at around 2:04). Jason had actually never run a half marathon before — he had done 3 marathons, so he figured the half would be a piece of cake and set a goal time of 1:45. On our way up to Vancouver, Jason starts noticing that he’s feeling a bit “under the weather.” It’s no big deal — just a little stuffiness and a bit of a headache. We get through the border, check into our hotel, walk to the Expo Hall to pick up our packets, have dinner, and go back to our room to relax and prep for tomorrow’s race. This is where things start to get a bit icky. Jason’s symptoms start to worsen and he begins feeling downright miserable. I’m not sure exactly what’s wrong with him, but I figure that once someone starts excreting goop out of his eyes, he’s probably not in the healthiest state to run 13.1 miles the next morning. Jason’s laying on the bed sounding congested and miserable with a warm washcloth draped over his gunky eyes, and I think, “There is no way he’s running tomorrow.” He’s sick and seems like he has a sinus infection, so the last thing on his mind should be hitting a PR for a half marathon…right? Oh, how I underestimate the competitive nature of men. The next morning, Jason rolls out of bed jacked up on adrenaline and race jitters. He pops a bunch of cold medicine like they’re Tic Tacs and suits up for the race. I keep asking him if he’s feeling well enough to race and he assures me with his husky, congested voice that he feels a lot better and will be fine. We meet our racing buddies in the hotel lobby and head to the start of the race. Since the finish dumps into a large stadium and there are thousands of people racing, we set up a meeting landmark for after the race: a giant inflated Ronald McDonald. It’s easy to spot the frighteningly huge clown, so we figured it would make for an idiot-proof meeting spot. We all wish each other good luck and I kiss my sicky boyfriend before the gun goes off and we all begin the race. I don’t feel great on the run — my main mistake is that I’m wearing pants instead of shorts because I mistakenly thought that race day would be colder than it actually was. I immediately get too warm and feel kind of miserable as I plod along, one foot in front of the other. Despite the wardrobe misstep, however, I finish the race in about 1:56 and feel pleased that I beat my previous half marathon time by 8 minutes. Wahoo! I run into two of my racing buddies who finished less than a minute ahead of me and we make our way to Ronald McDonald to meet Jason, who should have finished about ten minutes before we did. We get to Ronald and Jason’s nowhere in sight. I think that maybe he’s using the bathroom or grabbing food, so...

On Sunday I dragged my sedentary ass outside and shuffled around Capitol Hill for four measly miles. The following is a transcript of the conversation I had with my body. Enjoy. Me: Hey body, get up. Body: What? Why? What for? Me: We’re going for a run. Body: Ehhhhhh, I don’t wanna. I want to sit on the couch and watch House Hunters while eating Reese’s pieces. Me: Come on, we haven’t gone on a run in weeks, and we haven’t had consistent workouts since October. Body: Meh. Me: You’re looking a little flabby lately… Body: Isn’t big supposed to be beautiful? Me: Yeah, but abs are more beautiful. Body: I wanna sit here and watch tee-vee-eee! Me: Don’t you remember how great you felt when you were 10 lbs lighter and when your resting heart rate was 48? Body: …yeah… Me: And remember how dedicated you said we’d be in 2009 and how we were going to improve all of our race times? Body: …maybe. Me: Well, we can’t improve our race times or achieve our goals if you keep sitting on your fat ass eating candy and watching Top Chef. Now get up and put your shoes on! Body: UGH. FINE. We head out the door and begin our run. Me: See, isn’t this great? It’s not too cold out, it’s not raining, it’s getting a bit dark but hey, that’s okay. Body: I hate this. Are we done yet? Me: No, we just started. Body: Hey, we’re running past the Kingfish! You wanna get some fried chicken? Me: NO. Keep going. Body: But everything’s all hurty and I don’t like it! Me: It’ll get better, I promise. Body: Ok…so how long have we been running? Me: I dunno, I don’t want to check. Keep running for a little while and then I’ll reward you by checking the time. Body: Ok…how about now? Me: No. Body: Fine…now? Me: No! Body: Come onnnnnnn, just look. Me: It’s been six minutes. Body: God damnit. We approach a hill. Me: Come on, we can do it. Body: This sucks! My chest hurts and my shoulder hurts and I can barely breathe and my side hurts and my abs feel tight and I hate this. Me: Don’t you remember when you used to do hill repeats on this hill? Suck it up and run! Body: Grumble grumble… We get to the top of the hill and keep running. Soon we see another runner up ahead. Me: Pass that runner. Body: What? Why? Me: Come on, we’re faster than her. Pick up the pace and pass her! Also, stop crossing your arms. And stand up straight. Stop leaning forward. Don’t run on your toes. Body: Jesus, anything else, your majesty? Me: Shut up and pass her. We pass the runner and reach the turn around point. There’s another long, gradual hill up ahead. Body: I hate you. Me: This is good for you! We live in a hilly neighborhood, and it’s great for training. Body: Arghhhh… Me: Keep running on 15th, I need to pick up a prescription before the pharmacy closes. Body: Fine. Whatever. We get to the pharmacy and quickly duck in. Body: Jesus Christ, it’s freakin’ HOT in here! Ugh, look at me. My face is beet red. I look like Louie Anderson after he’s just tied his shoes. Me: We’ll be back outside in a second. Head over to that counter. We walk over to the counter and pay for the prescription. The pharmacist gives us an odd look. Pharmacist: So, uh, decided to go for a run? Me/Body (trying to act casual): Oh yeah, no big deal,...