Freeze Your Gizzard 10km, 2019 Recap: “Be Your Best in this Moment”

This is my race recap of the 2019 Freeze Your Gizzard race event in Montague, PEI.  Spoiler up front, this was my first ever career outright win which is something that many of us girls dream of.  I’ve dreamed of this moment for a long time.

Like many of my recap posts, this is split into two portions.  What I wrote the evening before the race and then the race story after the fact.

Saturday Night, evening pre-race, my mom’s house

I try to do Freeze Your Gizzard as often as possible because I both love the event and I love (more) the weekend escape to my hometown. This year, in 2019, it became a perfectly placed winter race because I was just starting to lose some winter training mojo.  My oceanside city of Halifax has descended into an 8 week long freezing ice wind terrain. I’d had enough. I skipped my alarm on Tuesday morning, first time this winter. On my Thursday easy run, my HR maxed at 195, which is my max. On an easy 8km run at 5:30/km pace.  The ice wind had me suffering bad. I was trying to tell myself to choose a thought that served me better. The only good thing about that run was that it ended.

So onto a family weekend on PEI with my much-loved family and my return to one of my all-time favorite running events.  I’m not sure why this is one of my favorite races. It’s a wildly challenging and hilly course and the temperatures often do freeze your gizzard plus other body parts.  The half marathon course features 235m of elevation gain (compare that to 168m at the Valley Half and 169m at Blue Nose). Nonetheless, this running event symbolizes the progression of and the ongoing love affair with my sport of running. It is the site of my first ever win.  It is the site of my first ever course record.

I decided to count my appearances at this event.  This 2019 running would be my 9th.

Here’s my history at this race:

1. 2007. 2:00:19
2. 2009. 1:40:58, first career win
3. 2010. 1:38:30, 40 sec PB
4. 2011. 1:35:44, win *Then a break while having children*
5. 2016. 1:28:15, win and new course record
6. 2017. 1:28:00, win and new course record
7. 2018. 1:28:07, win
8. 2019. Running the 10km to protect regained health of running body

On Saturday morning, I wake rested and well cared for at my mom and dad’s. Once my children were happily settled in with toys from siblings and I’s childhood (lovingly saved by my mom), I headed out for my 20 minute shake out run plus strides.

It was -12 Celsius, feels like -20 with windchill.

It was different from Halifax.

I was different.

For those you who live away from your home, maybe you understand what’s it’s like to stand on your home and native land.  For me, to run on my home and native land is powerful. I set out on a route that I first started running at age 16 and I began to feel more rooted firmly to myself.  I felt connected to my 16 year old self and the 2 decades of life in between.

I am finally sprung from all of the training things that have started to feel like tedious work: my 5:00am alarm, the darkness of early morning runs, the same loop of Marginal Road over and over again, the jesus-ice-wind around the Commons.  I look around and I mindfully replace all these things. They melt away. What I have now is this: the sun was shining; the snowbanks are sparkling; the farm fields are blanketed in a smooth and even way; the snow crunches more satisfying in the daylight because I don’t fear what’s underneath it because I can see it.  The quiet road ahead looked completely perfect. This is who I am, a girl happily running in the sunshine on her country roads because the sun is still there, even when it’s -20 windchill.

I shed all of the negative energy that I’ve been carrying around about my running.

I know I’ve been carrying negativity and judgement of myself on this comeback road from 2018 injury.  My mom also pointed it out Friday night. I’ve been trying to accept it’s ok to have the thoughts and to choose better ones. I’ve been patient. I’ve been trusting the process.  I’ve been doing the mental work. I am doing the physical work. I watch my fitness trend up but it’s not fast. The Halifax Road Hammers are an amazing group to train with. To run with them, you need to be able to cope with the group.  What I mean by that is sometimes when you are not where you want to be, the group presents you with glaring weekly reminders: you are running here. Not there. These other people are faster, see them here. You are with these people now.  Then you get dropped and you are with no one.

What I shed most on my PEI shake out run was this need “to be” anywhere.  I don’t need to be anywhere.  I am here. This is enough.

I needed that and I needed to discover it myself.  

I flip through Deena Kastor’s “Let Your MInd Run” and I find this quote that I am looking for, spoken by her coach:

“It’s your job to run your best in the season you are in. There is no benefit of judging if you are better or worse than before.  Find a way to be your best in this moment.”

So I head into Freeze Your Gizzard intent on just enjoying here and on being my best in this moment.  This race course has seen me through many versions of Erin and I will add 2019 to these versions, intending that it will be a joyful and grateful version of me and that’s enough.  I will not ruin this wonderful 10km of country roads with any judgements.

Sunday Evening, Back in Halifax post-race:

I had told Coach Lee about a week ago that my goal at Gizzard would be independent of the time on the clock. I simply wanted a hard effort where I don’t give up on myself.  This is now coupled with my additional goal to simply find a way to be my best in this moment.

The weather, while mostly wind-free, presents true gizzard freezing temperatures.  I warm up solo. I hug Michael when I see him and I tell Brandon that my money is on him, because he’s on the upswing and Michael did more trash-talking about taking down the half marathon record.  On my warm up, I note that my ears are the freezing gizzard while my thermal base layer is too hot. I dash to the car and put on a warmer hat and a cooler base layer.

Runners are walked to the start line. Race Director David kindly asks me if I’m ready to get at it and I say yes.

The gun goes and from my first steps, I lead.  No one comes with me.

If you are faster girl who has had some race winning success, you’ve dreamed about winning a race outright.  I sure have. I almost pulled it off at an October PEI Race Weekend 10km and I regret possibly not chasing down the lead guy hard enough.  I have dreamed of this race experience.

I order self to be calm and patient though. I lift my face to the beautiful shining sun. I run with a strong stride. I am calm with a 1km split of 4:10, I ease in.  At the first corner, about a mile in, I turn and look back and there is no one in sight.

I am giddy but have a flash of nerves. Oh God, how am I going to run a full 10km race and stay on with 10km effort all by my lonesome self?!  I know from long race history that I struggle to run to my potential when I am all alone in a race. It’s hard to maintain that race feeling and instead, it feels like a regular run by yourself.

I answer myself quickly.  I’ve got this. I wanted an effort for myself, by myself, where I don’t give up on myself.  Of course I can and will do this by myself, for myself.

I don’t have a clear collection of memories to paint out this race experience so I know I did it right.  I looked more through Main Street more than I ever have but I didn’t hold onto any clear memories of that.  I ran with the words “happy” and “joy” in my mind. I gave myself stride cues. I ran the tangents as possible.   

I had my Garmin chiming each kilometer and I quickly settled in to run each kilometer as fast as possible over that kilometer.  I consciously extend my lead as much as possible each kilometer. I stay in it. I know the splits for the current course record and I intent to stay under those splits.

It is cold. Minus 10 Celsius is cold. I knew from my loving aunt Dawn, who had driven the course on Saturday while visiting her mother, that there is a significant section that is hard packed snow, beginning at about 5km.  The hard packed snow lasted about 2.5km. It is tricky to run on, there’s no traction and there’s less speed when there’s no traction.

At about 6km, I saw another aunt, Gemma, who often comes and cheers me on. She’s a constant loving presence, there for all of the important moments of my life. I am elated to see her!  She yells that it took her forever to find me. I jubilantly yell back: “I am leading the whole 10km race!!!”

At 7km, you turn the corner to run up the 800m Monster of Campbell Road. I charge the flat leading to the hill to keep my pace on it.  I am ready for this. I tell myself that I am the stronger hill runner I have ever met (meanwhile I don’t even do hill training, it’s too punishing on my chronic pelvic floor injury).  

A race brain is unpredictable.  Sometimes it spirals out of control.  Sometimes it offer up these organic, in the moment gems that help you execute a race.  I’m running up this hill, the best hill runner ever, and I spontaneously think about all those Saturday mornnings when my training pal Dave Martin and I run home together after Road Hammer workout, up the Beaufort/Oxford grind.  I picture us doing this and it’s a day where Dave is gassed from a marathoner workout. So I am dragging Dave up the hill. I must be the strong one. I proceed to drag Invisible Dave up this 800m hill. This powerful image is so helpful.  I must run strong and fast to get Invisible Dave to the top. So I do.

I charge down the downhill after finally cresting this hill and I”m not gassed. My 7km split chimes.  I am momentarily confused about how much running is left because: hypoxic race brain. I see Gemma again.  I make the final turn, there’s 2km to home. 1km is flat/down. The last 1km is all up, up, up.

Invisible Dave was so helpful that I take him along these last 2km too.  I imagine that I’m pacing him over the last 2km of his marathon in this April’s New Jersey Race Weekend, where we will be together.  Me in the half, him in the full.

Writing this in hindsight, I’m not mindful in the moment at all as I lead this race as the overall winner and about to set a course record.  That is ok. I”m engaged in it and I’m making it happen with my imaginary Invisible Dave thoughts.

The last km is a super grind but I know that I will win and that I have a new course record and the final strides over the finish line are…. A mix of joy and disbelief and all the way special.

I’m ecstatic.  I have never outright won a race before. I gush to my Aunt Gemma.  Then there is no one left to talk to so I get to my car and I call my mom and it’s a friggin’ fantastic conversation.  

Now that it’s over, will I dissect my average pace and finish time?  No, I will not. I achieved my goals. I did not once give up on myself.  I was my best self in this moment. I won and I set a new course record. I will embrace that, wrap it up in my training life and carry that to complete my New Jersey Half Marathon training.

Biggest thanks to David and crew for another amazing event. From my perspective, it was flawless and I appreciate all of your great efforts.

Thanks for reading!