Sometimes working really hard to be someone you're not shines a bright light on who you actually are.
I'll start by conceding that this summer was incredibly, cruelly, mercilessly tough. Not in any significant way other than trying to run through the brutal, unrelenting heat and humidity. Trying to get excited about a Fall marathon, even one as monumentally insane as New York, proved to be nearly impossible. So this summer of running was just a huge drag. I remembered quite quickly why I hadn't opted for a Fall marathon since my first one back in 2005--it is preferable to bundle up than to melt away into oblivion, a lonely puddle along the bike path shrouded in sodden, but really cute, running clothes.
I thought I'd gotten myself on a good path by hiring a coach. Workout after workout I dutifully ran in circles (well, ovals) around the track, or slogged like a pack mule carrying my hydration getup on long runs. I logged every run, every pace, every emotion, every raindrop (or sweat drop as it was). I ran by myself in the early dark morning at the track, after hopping the fence to get in. (Er, don't share that part) I recruited friends to plod along on my recovery runs.
But, even after doing it all right, something wasn't right. I felt cut loose, drifting aimlessly towards some nebulous goal. Am I progressing? Are these workouts the right fit for me? Why am I signed up for a 5K? Why has every race been a complete disaster since May?
I spent enough time feeling frustrated with my running that I took a closer look. And I what I saw looked nothing like what I know works for me. I was running, and running, and running some more; then I remembered I am not someone who needs to do two long runs per week. I don't have to run 60+ miles per week to find success. Running 60-90 seconds per mile slower than my go-out-for-a-run pace on 80% of my runs is beyond unenjoyable--it is torture. I don't enjoy going into a workout with a cheat sheet because I can't remember all the paces and segments and duration without one. It just wasn't for me.
So I made a change. It was not easy. I am not someone who relishes letting others down or making people upset. I am terrible with confrontation, even in its mildest form. But I found a coach who is local to me, met with her, and signed right up. I also let me former coach know it wasn't anything personal---I just needed a little more face-to-face interaction. My current situation has me working with a coach who is not only running New York this year as well, it's her SEVENTH time running it. Her PR is from this race. I'm pretty sure she can point me in the right direction. I've only been working with her a week and already I've gotten a ton of positive and encouraging feedback.
I am not all the way there yet, but I feel like I'm running happy and free, like the old me is coming back. I've learned so many things that don't work for me along this running path. I am not a CrossFitter. I am not a high-mileage runner. I am not fancy. Give me some bodyweight exercises, maybe a kettlbell, 400 and 800 meter and mile repeats. A tempo run.
And cooler temps.
Let's do this, starting fresh.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Almost a Year Later, I Have Feelings
It's been nearly one full year since I ran the Boston Marathon. I finished the race and immediately thought "NEVER AGAIN." Not a "never" to the marathon as a race distance, but to Boston. Never. Again.
Granted, the weather in 2015 was hideous: rain, wind, rain, 40 degrees, rain following the runners, wind. Oh, and cold rain. In fact, after the race my husband asked me if it had rained the whole time because, well, where he and the kids were in Boston, it had only started to rain about 20 minutes before I saw them. Oh, bless your heart, dear husband, but no. The rain started at mile 3 and, hardy har, the front moved towards Boston basically along the race route. With the runners. Into the headwinds which--and I'm not meteorologist--I have no idea how that happens.
But it wasn't just the weather that left a bad taste in my mouth. In the weeks leading up to the race--hell, the years I'd imagined actually running Boston--all anyone could talk about was how AMAZING the experience would be, how LOUD the crowds would be, how FRIGGIN MAGICAL the entire race from Hopkinton to Boston would be. And I felt, really, none of that. Again, maybe it was due to the weather, but until we got about halfway through, the crowds were pretty thin. I was glad to have music to keep me, uh, focused. Maybe it was because by the time I actually got to race day I was so burned out from training and a 3-day-a-week CrossFit habit that I was too tired to buy into the hype. Maybe I was hangry the whole way. Maybe therefugee camp Athletes' Village was more intense than I'd planned; bodies strewn and huddled together over the entire surface area of grass covered by a circus tent. Maybe, surrounded by runners much, much faster than me, I let that imposter syndrome sink too far in; I never believed I belonged on that starting line.
Whatever the reason, I was almost as disappointed in how UNmagical I felt in the race as I was in my crapola performance. My husband cleaned the bathtub of our rented apartment so I could sit in a hot eighteen inches of water while my stomach slowly unclenched. He brought me a Coke to sip, a soft drink which I actually DID come to believe held magical powers. And I swore I would NEVER RUN BOSTON AGAIN.
But, uh. Well. You know how when you have a baby and it's so god-awfully painful and uncomfortable and undignified and you SWEAR you'll never have another baby and then, haha, that baby smell intoxicates your brain and suddenly you're flushing your birth control down the toilet? So many of my Oiselle teammates and other friends happen to be running this year. After an atypically mild winter of training. They're excited and hyped and ready to go and where the hell is all this FOMO coming from? Remember: I'M NEVER EVEN GOING TO ATTEMPT TO RUN BOSTON AGAIN.
Or, wellllllll, maybe if I happen to requalify someday and the next time I could run it I'll be over 40 so there's 5 more minutes on my qualifying time and maybe it actually wasn't as horrible as I'm remembering and the weekend was really fun and Boston's such a cool city and only a 6 hour drive away and--
Wait.
Breathe.
Boston Marathon weekend is amazing. The entire city sizzles with endophins and nervous energy and anticipation. Bostonians and their thousands of college student residents go bananas for the race. Walking around the city in your freshly-earned jacket makes you feel like a total rock star. There's a camaraderie that's earned the second you spot someone at the highway rest stop or in the airport wearing their unicorn medal or garishly-colored adidas jacket.
Ah, who knows. I worked my butt off once to qualify, and maybe that was enough. I ran it. I did not do well (for my own self) but I will admit that the finish down Boylston Street ranks up there with the top race experiences of my life. So maybe that's the draw, huh? Same as when that baby finally comes out, and the pain is gone, and what you have left is the satisfaction after going through the impossible, the promise of a life ahead; a joyful, grateful life after all. It was worth it, it's incredible. Maybe just one more time to experience that joy, that feeling of being part of a much, much bigger whole.
But first, just like post-baby, give me a shower, a beer, and lots of snacks.
Granted, the weather in 2015 was hideous: rain, wind, rain, 40 degrees, rain following the runners, wind. Oh, and cold rain. In fact, after the race my husband asked me if it had rained the whole time because, well, where he and the kids were in Boston, it had only started to rain about 20 minutes before I saw them. Oh, bless your heart, dear husband, but no. The rain started at mile 3 and, hardy har, the front moved towards Boston basically along the race route. With the runners. Into the headwinds which--and I'm not meteorologist--I have no idea how that happens.
But it wasn't just the weather that left a bad taste in my mouth. In the weeks leading up to the race--hell, the years I'd imagined actually running Boston--all anyone could talk about was how AMAZING the experience would be, how LOUD the crowds would be, how FRIGGIN MAGICAL the entire race from Hopkinton to Boston would be. And I felt, really, none of that. Again, maybe it was due to the weather, but until we got about halfway through, the crowds were pretty thin. I was glad to have music to keep me, uh, focused. Maybe it was because by the time I actually got to race day I was so burned out from training and a 3-day-a-week CrossFit habit that I was too tired to buy into the hype. Maybe I was hangry the whole way. Maybe the
Whatever the reason, I was almost as disappointed in how UNmagical I felt in the race as I was in my crapola performance. My husband cleaned the bathtub of our rented apartment so I could sit in a hot eighteen inches of water while my stomach slowly unclenched. He brought me a Coke to sip, a soft drink which I actually DID come to believe held magical powers. And I swore I would NEVER RUN BOSTON AGAIN.
But, uh. Well. You know how when you have a baby and it's so god-awfully painful and uncomfortable and undignified and you SWEAR you'll never have another baby and then, haha, that baby smell intoxicates your brain and suddenly you're flushing your birth control down the toilet? So many of my Oiselle teammates and other friends happen to be running this year. After an atypically mild winter of training. They're excited and hyped and ready to go and where the hell is all this FOMO coming from? Remember: I'M NEVER EVEN GOING TO ATTEMPT TO RUN BOSTON AGAIN.
Or, wellllllll, maybe if I happen to requalify someday and the next time I could run it I'll be over 40 so there's 5 more minutes on my qualifying time and maybe it actually wasn't as horrible as I'm remembering and the weekend was really fun and Boston's such a cool city and only a 6 hour drive away and--
Wait.
Breathe.
Boston Marathon weekend is amazing. The entire city sizzles with endophins and nervous energy and anticipation. Bostonians and their thousands of college student residents go bananas for the race. Walking around the city in your freshly-earned jacket makes you feel like a total rock star. There's a camaraderie that's earned the second you spot someone at the highway rest stop or in the airport wearing their unicorn medal or garishly-colored adidas jacket.
Ah, who knows. I worked my butt off once to qualify, and maybe that was enough. I ran it. I did not do well (for my own self) but I will admit that the finish down Boylston Street ranks up there with the top race experiences of my life. So maybe that's the draw, huh? Same as when that baby finally comes out, and the pain is gone, and what you have left is the satisfaction after going through the impossible, the promise of a life ahead; a joyful, grateful life after all. It was worth it, it's incredible. Maybe just one more time to experience that joy, that feeling of being part of a much, much bigger whole.
But first, just like post-baby, give me a shower, a beer, and lots of snacks.
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
Goal Race or Hellish Winterscape?
This past Sunday, April 3, I ran my goal race, the race I'd spent 12 weeks training for, the Syracuse Half Marathon. It was, well, utterly hellacious. Not because of how I felt, or the course, or my nutrition or training or sleep. Not because of poor organization or lack of communication. No porta-potty emergencies. Nope, not even a wardrobe malfunction, lost toenail or bra-band chafing.
It was the hideous weather. You can read more about the weather here or here. Ironically, organizers moved this race back two weeks from mid-March to better ensure nicer weather. Ha. Ha. HAHAHAHAHAHA NOPE. Without a doubt this race provided the absolute worst weather I've ever raced in, let alone spent that much time training in.
Of course I'd been obsessively checking the ten-day weather forecast for Syracuse, but when it originally predicted 30MPH+ winds and cold temps, I stopped checking. I just packed almost every piece of cold-weather running gear I own and hoped for the best. Do I need to mention when I arrived in Syracuse Saturday afternoon it was windy but 55 degrees? No? Yeah, no need to acknowledge that cruelty. Kind of like the entire weekend before last year's Boston was sunny and 60 degrees.
And then the forecast got worse. I woke up Sunday morning in my peaceful, comfortable king-sized bed, ALONE, to the metallic clang and scrape of snowplows outside. Not a good sign, actually. When I peeked through the curtains I almost jumped back into bed: the flag outside my window was whipping horizontally and the landing and streets were coated with at least three inches of snow.
I have the best race weather luck.
Anyway. I reevaluated my race outfit, and settled on my Wazzie Wool half zip top under my long-sleeve Oiselle singlet, fleece-lined Moto Lesley tights, Wazzie Wool gaiter, gloves and hat. My cushy Stance socks inside my new adidas Energy Boost 3s on my feet.
I met some people in the lobby of my hotel who happened to be teammates of a girl I was planning to meet from my Oiselle team. We walked to the start together. Honestly, the sidewalks on that first trek outdoors were snow-covered, but the streets seemed manageable. The weather was cold and windy, but not completely unbearable.
I'll skip to the good stuff. It got exponentially worse, weather-wise. The first mile, which included a pretty significant uphill, was slippery but not impossible. The wind was blasting us cross-wise. Around the second mile things seemed doable; some slippery spots, some slushy potholes, wind around some turns. My feet were quite frozen but I was doing my best to avoid the huge puddles that filled the streets. Typical bad-winter-weather running.
Until I got to around mile 6. It was as though we entered another dimension. Suddenly snow was annihilating our faces, completely blinding me, forming glaciers along the ridge of my hat, eyelashes, eyebrows, gaiter, gloves. I was a running snowman. At this point, though, I think we all assumed it was a squall that would just pass us by.
It wasn't.
Flash forward to around the 15 kilometer mark. I was, surprisingly, ahead of the pace I'd expected to run. Every mile that had clicked by was faster than it felt. But that 15K mark held a wall of suck that I just slammed into head first. Suddenly my legs just could not move through the 3 inches of ice and snow that had accumulated along the course. I fought for traction just to get down the street as I tried to push of the ground. The last three miles of the race were a simple fight to get to the finish without falling and breaking my ass. I crossed the finish line, eventually, and was in complete disbelief that I, along with 3700+ other runners, had just lived through that.
I can't even really remember most of the race. Mostly because I couldn't actually see out of my eyes for at least half of it. What I do remember is a pretty good course, despite the weather. Volunteers and spectators willingly standing outside in the roaring wind and snowy vortex to help and cheer us on. Fighting every instinct I had to drop out, find a warm restaurant and thaw my frozen self. I would actually do this race again and think I would do well if the weather wasn't completely Arctic. I met up with two of my Oiselle teammates, and their run team; I may have even found my new running coach among them. I got to share in the run-crazy-insanity of this now-legendary race day. It wasn't all bad.
I am tremendously proud of how I did in the race overall, in spite of the weather. Not only did I not give up, I ran pretty smart through the whole race and felt good. So now what? Three days post-race I feel good, nearly 100% recovered. A yoga class Monday night, Spin Tuesday and TRX today has me feeling refreshed and ready to run tomorrow. And, based on how the rest of the week goes, I think I'm going to sign up for another race that's in two and a half weeks. Why waste this fitness? I'd like to give it another go and see what I can do right now. Not shooting for a PR or any records. I would love to get back to a race time that has me feeling confident.
We'll see how it goes.
It was the hideous weather. You can read more about the weather here or here. Ironically, organizers moved this race back two weeks from mid-March to better ensure nicer weather. Ha. Ha. HAHAHAHAHAHA NOPE. Without a doubt this race provided the absolute worst weather I've ever raced in, let alone spent that much time training in.
Of course I'd been obsessively checking the ten-day weather forecast for Syracuse, but when it originally predicted 30MPH+ winds and cold temps, I stopped checking. I just packed almost every piece of cold-weather running gear I own and hoped for the best. Do I need to mention when I arrived in Syracuse Saturday afternoon it was windy but 55 degrees? No? Yeah, no need to acknowledge that cruelty. Kind of like the entire weekend before last year's Boston was sunny and 60 degrees.
And then the forecast got worse. I woke up Sunday morning in my peaceful, comfortable king-sized bed, ALONE, to the metallic clang and scrape of snowplows outside. Not a good sign, actually. When I peeked through the curtains I almost jumped back into bed: the flag outside my window was whipping horizontally and the landing and streets were coated with at least three inches of snow.
I have the best race weather luck.
Anyway. I reevaluated my race outfit, and settled on my Wazzie Wool half zip top under my long-sleeve Oiselle singlet, fleece-lined Moto Lesley tights, Wazzie Wool gaiter, gloves and hat. My cushy Stance socks inside my new adidas Energy Boost 3s on my feet.
I met some people in the lobby of my hotel who happened to be teammates of a girl I was planning to meet from my Oiselle team. We walked to the start together. Honestly, the sidewalks on that first trek outdoors were snow-covered, but the streets seemed manageable. The weather was cold and windy, but not completely unbearable.
I'll skip to the good stuff. It got exponentially worse, weather-wise. The first mile, which included a pretty significant uphill, was slippery but not impossible. The wind was blasting us cross-wise. Around the second mile things seemed doable; some slippery spots, some slushy potholes, wind around some turns. My feet were quite frozen but I was doing my best to avoid the huge puddles that filled the streets. Typical bad-winter-weather running.
Until I got to around mile 6. It was as though we entered another dimension. Suddenly snow was annihilating our faces, completely blinding me, forming glaciers along the ridge of my hat, eyelashes, eyebrows, gaiter, gloves. I was a running snowman. At this point, though, I think we all assumed it was a squall that would just pass us by.
It wasn't.
Flash forward to around the 15 kilometer mark. I was, surprisingly, ahead of the pace I'd expected to run. Every mile that had clicked by was faster than it felt. But that 15K mark held a wall of suck that I just slammed into head first. Suddenly my legs just could not move through the 3 inches of ice and snow that had accumulated along the course. I fought for traction just to get down the street as I tried to push of the ground. The last three miles of the race were a simple fight to get to the finish without falling and breaking my ass. I crossed the finish line, eventually, and was in complete disbelief that I, along with 3700+ other runners, had just lived through that.
I can't even really remember most of the race. Mostly because I couldn't actually see out of my eyes for at least half of it. What I do remember is a pretty good course, despite the weather. Volunteers and spectators willingly standing outside in the roaring wind and snowy vortex to help and cheer us on. Fighting every instinct I had to drop out, find a warm restaurant and thaw my frozen self. I would actually do this race again and think I would do well if the weather wasn't completely Arctic. I met up with two of my Oiselle teammates, and their run team; I may have even found my new running coach among them. I got to share in the run-crazy-insanity of this now-legendary race day. It wasn't all bad.
I am tremendously proud of how I did in the race overall, in spite of the weather. Not only did I not give up, I ran pretty smart through the whole race and felt good. So now what? Three days post-race I feel good, nearly 100% recovered. A yoga class Monday night, Spin Tuesday and TRX today has me feeling refreshed and ready to run tomorrow. And, based on how the rest of the week goes, I think I'm going to sign up for another race that's in two and a half weeks. Why waste this fitness? I'd like to give it another go and see what I can do right now. Not shooting for a PR or any records. I would love to get back to a race time that has me feeling confident.
We'll see how it goes.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Truthful Plans
After putting together my running goals for 2016, I took a few minutes to think about how to achieve them, and more than a few minutes about what will hold me back from getting there.
It doesn't take a whole lot of work to come up with a wish-list. And, as the saying and memes go, a goal without a plan is just a wish. Sure, there's plenty of things I WANT to achieve this year. Lose x amount of weight, cut x minutes off per mile at each distance, cultivate a thriving blog . . . all worthy ambitions and not impossible to achieve. But no one's getting anywhere just sitting around wanting things to change.
The first step to getting where I want to be is to just stop fucking around. This looks like eliminating useless snacking and sugar-indulging and too-much-beer-enjoying. The past few months I've cut myself a ton of slack and have essentially stopped tracking what I've been putting in my body. I was in my best racing shape when I was more diligently, but not obsessively, counting calories and making sure I put high octane into my fuel tank. So, in the spirit of new beginnings, I am going to work very hard to snack on healthier options, to opt out of snacking mindlessly and freely after the kids go to bed, and to enjoy adult beverages responsibly two nights per week. I'm not planning on being perfect, but I do plan on dialing my efforts up a few notches.
Secondly, I need to be fair but firm with myself and my expectations. I know in the deepest parts of my heart that I am nowhere near my best running shape. Which means track intervals and long run paces aren't going to be as fast as I would like. That doesn't mean I can't be proud of where I am without working to get somewhere else. I can be happy with my current level of fitness while wanting more at the same time. And not beat myself up for not being where I want to be, yet.
Third, and this is always easier said than done, is to just do it. Damn, that is such a boring old cliche but isn't it just the truth? I mean, if I want this blog to be a living space, then sit down and write. If I want to get faster and fitter, make the commitment and get my ass to the track. No complaining, no second-guessing; just write, run, hit the publish and the lap buttons. Go.
Ah, so there are the bullet points for how to get from Point A to Point B, but what about the inevitable stumbling blocks? I've thought a bit about what's really holding me back. And that's the real scary shit.
The big ones, and here's the truth, are fear and envy. Putting myself out there, risking failure and looking foolish . . . those have always been some of my biggest fears. Typical first-born, Type-A personality, I expect to just do it well the first time. I'm hoping that by getting this out of my head and into the ether I can work a little smarter on sticking out the work. Being vulnerable but unafraid. And that leads right into envy, which makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. I have this need to compare myself with others, especially others who, at different times, I was running with as an equal . . . and, honestly, am not now. Just this morning, after my own short run, I was feeling happy and confident that this piriformis injury was maybe getting better. Then I saw another few runners' paces and distances on social media and immediately my happy little run turned sour. How awful to do that to myself, right? This is the biggest thing holding me back; not necessarily from running faster, but from being the best runner I can be for myself.
So. There it is. A skeleton of a plan to get through 2016, and come out in December better than I am here in January. I'm ready.
Now let's keep the injuries at bay, huh? Sheesh.
It doesn't take a whole lot of work to come up with a wish-list. And, as the saying and memes go, a goal without a plan is just a wish. Sure, there's plenty of things I WANT to achieve this year. Lose x amount of weight, cut x minutes off per mile at each distance, cultivate a thriving blog . . . all worthy ambitions and not impossible to achieve. But no one's getting anywhere just sitting around wanting things to change.
The first step to getting where I want to be is to just stop fucking around. This looks like eliminating useless snacking and sugar-indulging and too-much-beer-enjoying. The past few months I've cut myself a ton of slack and have essentially stopped tracking what I've been putting in my body. I was in my best racing shape when I was more diligently, but not obsessively, counting calories and making sure I put high octane into my fuel tank. So, in the spirit of new beginnings, I am going to work very hard to snack on healthier options, to opt out of snacking mindlessly and freely after the kids go to bed, and to enjoy adult beverages responsibly two nights per week. I'm not planning on being perfect, but I do plan on dialing my efforts up a few notches.
Secondly, I need to be fair but firm with myself and my expectations. I know in the deepest parts of my heart that I am nowhere near my best running shape. Which means track intervals and long run paces aren't going to be as fast as I would like. That doesn't mean I can't be proud of where I am without working to get somewhere else. I can be happy with my current level of fitness while wanting more at the same time. And not beat myself up for not being where I want to be, yet.
Third, and this is always easier said than done, is to just do it. Damn, that is such a boring old cliche but isn't it just the truth? I mean, if I want this blog to be a living space, then sit down and write. If I want to get faster and fitter, make the commitment and get my ass to the track. No complaining, no second-guessing; just write, run, hit the publish and the lap buttons. Go.
Ah, so there are the bullet points for how to get from Point A to Point B, but what about the inevitable stumbling blocks? I've thought a bit about what's really holding me back. And that's the real scary shit.
The big ones, and here's the truth, are fear and envy. Putting myself out there, risking failure and looking foolish . . . those have always been some of my biggest fears. Typical first-born, Type-A personality, I expect to just do it well the first time. I'm hoping that by getting this out of my head and into the ether I can work a little smarter on sticking out the work. Being vulnerable but unafraid. And that leads right into envy, which makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. I have this need to compare myself with others, especially others who, at different times, I was running with as an equal . . . and, honestly, am not now. Just this morning, after my own short run, I was feeling happy and confident that this piriformis injury was maybe getting better. Then I saw another few runners' paces and distances on social media and immediately my happy little run turned sour. How awful to do that to myself, right? This is the biggest thing holding me back; not necessarily from running faster, but from being the best runner I can be for myself.
So. There it is. A skeleton of a plan to get through 2016, and come out in December better than I am here in January. I'm ready.
Now let's keep the injuries at bay, huh? Sheesh.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Time to #WomanUp2016
Here we are at the start of another year, January 1 yet again. A fresh, blank page in the running journal, time to set some goals and make a plan to achieve them.
Except, I'm at a bit of a loss. Where do I start? Truthfully, 2015 was a huge flop of a running year for me. I ran several personal worsts, sustained a handful of injuries that left me wondering how to recover. I worked with a physical therapist. I quit CrossFit. I started taking Runners' Bootcamp and took Spinning to cross-train. I ran 300+ fewer miles in 2015 than the year before.
I felt like garbage 90% of my running miles, was slower and felt like an overall failure.
But here's the thing: towards the end of 2015, I started to enjoy running again. After three injuries, it seemed like I was on the way back to my former running self. The Turkey Trot was the first race I'd run since the half-marathon in June, and the Mud Run in August after that. Neither of THOSE were very good, and I had no business expecting to run it well. And, well, I didn't. I ran the slowest I ever had, not counting the years I was pregnant. It was, however, the first race I ran wearing my Oiselle singlet, and it made me hungry for more. A few weeks later I ran a 5K (in December, in SHORTS!) and, while it still was 2 minutes away from my best, I felt so strong and confident. I managed to string together 3+ sub-seven-minute miles, and win my age group. After that, my runs started to get faster and more comfortable and longer.
And then my piriformis started to flare up and now here I sit with a literal pain in my ass. It is beyond frustrating to feel like things are starting to come back together only to have to bow out once again. Tomorrow is cross training, no running. I ran two miles today, and while my pace was fine and I felt pretty good, I could tell my piriformis was still aggravated. Came home, stretched, sat on the TriggerPoint massage ball. Uuurrrgghghghghg. Grr!
Anyway. Back to goals for 2016. I guess I need to just take baby steps back to where I was 18 months ago.
1. Run under 21 minutes for the 5K. I'd love to get back under 20, but that might take a little more time.
2. Consistent speed work. And on non-speed weeks, get in a good hill workout at the Ridge.
3. 1:35:ish for the Syracuse Half Marathon on April 3. I don't think I can get back to my PR of 1:32:xx this Spring, yet.
4. Blog more consistently. I need to get out of my own head, and I would like to connect with more runners, maybe grow this space a little bit.
5. Listen to my body when a possible injury is brewing. I want to get better at preventing injury rather than putting out fires.
6. Eat vegetables with at least 2 meals/day. I need to clean up my diet on a more consistent basis and I think eating more vegetables will help get that on track.
7. Core/Strength/Stretching. I plan to do core work, often in the form of Oiselle's Dirty Dozen, 3x/week, go to Runners' Bootcamp 1x/week plus a BaseSix/Prime workout another 1x/week, and consistently stretch and do Jasyoga after every run. I also need to figure in an upper body workout 1-2x/week.
I have a tentative plan to run a Fall marathon this year, thinking of putting my name in the lottery for Chicago, Marine Corps or signing up for Philly, or possibly Wineglass for a smaller race.
These goals right now seem a little impossible and a little scary, and it's hard to look at the all the work I need to do just to get back to where I was. I can look at a few decisions over the past year or so that took me away from where I was, and it makes me crazy to think I was such an idiot. But here I am, the blank first page of the Book of 2016, and it's time to fill the rest of the book with a good story. I'm ready to #womanup2016.
Except, I'm at a bit of a loss. Where do I start? Truthfully, 2015 was a huge flop of a running year for me. I ran several personal worsts, sustained a handful of injuries that left me wondering how to recover. I worked with a physical therapist. I quit CrossFit. I started taking Runners' Bootcamp and took Spinning to cross-train. I ran 300+ fewer miles in 2015 than the year before.
I felt like garbage 90% of my running miles, was slower and felt like an overall failure.
But here's the thing: towards the end of 2015, I started to enjoy running again. After three injuries, it seemed like I was on the way back to my former running self. The Turkey Trot was the first race I'd run since the half-marathon in June, and the Mud Run in August after that. Neither of THOSE were very good, and I had no business expecting to run it well. And, well, I didn't. I ran the slowest I ever had, not counting the years I was pregnant. It was, however, the first race I ran wearing my Oiselle singlet, and it made me hungry for more. A few weeks later I ran a 5K (in December, in SHORTS!) and, while it still was 2 minutes away from my best, I felt so strong and confident. I managed to string together 3+ sub-seven-minute miles, and win my age group. After that, my runs started to get faster and more comfortable and longer.
And then my piriformis started to flare up and now here I sit with a literal pain in my ass. It is beyond frustrating to feel like things are starting to come back together only to have to bow out once again. Tomorrow is cross training, no running. I ran two miles today, and while my pace was fine and I felt pretty good, I could tell my piriformis was still aggravated. Came home, stretched, sat on the TriggerPoint massage ball. Uuurrrgghghghghg. Grr!
Anyway. Back to goals for 2016. I guess I need to just take baby steps back to where I was 18 months ago.
1. Run under 21 minutes for the 5K. I'd love to get back under 20, but that might take a little more time.
2. Consistent speed work. And on non-speed weeks, get in a good hill workout at the Ridge.
3. 1:35:ish for the Syracuse Half Marathon on April 3. I don't think I can get back to my PR of 1:32:xx this Spring, yet.
4. Blog more consistently. I need to get out of my own head, and I would like to connect with more runners, maybe grow this space a little bit.
5. Listen to my body when a possible injury is brewing. I want to get better at preventing injury rather than putting out fires.
6. Eat vegetables with at least 2 meals/day. I need to clean up my diet on a more consistent basis and I think eating more vegetables will help get that on track.
7. Core/Strength/Stretching. I plan to do core work, often in the form of Oiselle's Dirty Dozen, 3x/week, go to Runners' Bootcamp 1x/week plus a BaseSix/Prime workout another 1x/week, and consistently stretch and do Jasyoga after every run. I also need to figure in an upper body workout 1-2x/week.
I have a tentative plan to run a Fall marathon this year, thinking of putting my name in the lottery for Chicago, Marine Corps or signing up for Philly, or possibly Wineglass for a smaller race.
These goals right now seem a little impossible and a little scary, and it's hard to look at the all the work I need to do just to get back to where I was. I can look at a few decisions over the past year or so that took me away from where I was, and it makes me crazy to think I was such an idiot. But here I am, the blank first page of the Book of 2016, and it's time to fill the rest of the book with a good story. I'm ready to #womanup2016.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Three in a Row?
Somehow, over the past three days, I have managed to string together three really, surprisingly good runs. Not the fastest ever, but I felt strong and satisfied each time. I don't know what's happening, or how long it will last, but I'm really happy.
Saturday I did my regularly scheduled long run, which ended up being just seven miles. I had planned to go eight, but I was feeling strong and steady and decided at 6 to finish at seven with a faster last mile. Finish wanting more, I guess. Sunday's run turned into a five mile tempo. The middle three miles weren't blazingly fast by any stretch, but they were fast enough to feel hard and I was strong enough to keep going. And while I tried to recover in the fifth mile, I opened it up the last quarter and felt great.
We're back to summer schedules this week, so while my older son was at basketball camp, my little guy and I took to the Outer Harbor's bike path for the first stroller run of the year. It was a beautifully sunny morning, high sixties with little wind. I'll admit the path away from the waterfront was sunny and warm, and half of our route today was covered in goose poop (my son thought that was the best part). But after a slow warmup mile to get the legs and arms and brain used to pushing the stroller, the next three miles were under eight-minute pace. Which isn't setting any world records, I know. But it was faster than I thought it would be considering my relative lack of fitness, currently, and lack of stroller-running practice. We covered a nice little four mile out-and-back, and I'm sure I'll be doing more of this in the coming weeks. I'll bring my older son along on his bike; truth be told I wish my little guy could keep up on his training-wheeled bike, but for now the stroller will have to do.
So, after three days of strong, solid running, I feel like I might be back on the path to where I want to be. I haven't been able to string together two solid runs in a row since way back in marathon training. For now, I'm happy with how it's going.
Saturday I did my regularly scheduled long run, which ended up being just seven miles. I had planned to go eight, but I was feeling strong and steady and decided at 6 to finish at seven with a faster last mile. Finish wanting more, I guess. Sunday's run turned into a five mile tempo. The middle three miles weren't blazingly fast by any stretch, but they were fast enough to feel hard and I was strong enough to keep going. And while I tried to recover in the fifth mile, I opened it up the last quarter and felt great.
We're back to summer schedules this week, so while my older son was at basketball camp, my little guy and I took to the Outer Harbor's bike path for the first stroller run of the year. It was a beautifully sunny morning, high sixties with little wind. I'll admit the path away from the waterfront was sunny and warm, and half of our route today was covered in goose poop (my son thought that was the best part). But after a slow warmup mile to get the legs and arms and brain used to pushing the stroller, the next three miles were under eight-minute pace. Which isn't setting any world records, I know. But it was faster than I thought it would be considering my relative lack of fitness, currently, and lack of stroller-running practice. We covered a nice little four mile out-and-back, and I'm sure I'll be doing more of this in the coming weeks. I'll bring my older son along on his bike; truth be told I wish my little guy could keep up on his training-wheeled bike, but for now the stroller will have to do.
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| The cost of this photo was a no-time-limit visit to the new playground. |
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| The reward. |
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Race Recap: Niagara Ultra Series (Half Marathon)
Living in Buffalo, NY, we are able to jump in on some cool across-the-border Canadian races. Back in March I ran the Around the Bay 30K in Hamilton, Ontario with my best friend, Mo. It boasts that it's "Older than Boston", a fact which is weirdly emblazoned on the back of the race shirts. It was, however, a pretty good marathon tune-up. But that's not the race we're discussing today.
Last weekend I ran the half-marathon distance in the Niagara Ultra series. Coincidentally I'd heard of this race from a flyer (and enthusiastic club member) at the ATB30K expo. Runners could choose from the 10K, half marathon, full marathon or ultra marathon (50K) distances. I wisely went with the half, and decided to use it as a training run.
The race starts in Niagara-on-the-Lake, in a park, on grass, behind Kinsman Hall. This is also where runners pick up their race packets and (actually pretty nice) hooded sweatshirts. The races had half hour staggered starts, with the ultra runners going out at 7AM, marathon at 7:30, half-marathon at 8 and the 10K at 8:30.
A personal note here: these bathrooms (shown below, and called "washrooms" in Canadian) were a literal GODSEND. The race started at 8AM, but since I had to drive 40 minutes and deal with an international border crossing, I drank my breakfast and coffee in the car. By the time I got to packet pick-up, things were, um, starting to happen, gastro-intestinally. The doors to these washrooms were locked when I parked my car near them, so I decided to take my chances with the ports-potties near packet pickup. However after I got my number and sweatshirt, the line for the porta-potties had approximately sixty people in it, for the eight porta-potties available. I was beyond distressed. So, I made my way back to my car to drop off my gear and, lo and behold, the washroom door was WIDE OPEN. Lord have mercy, I think I was the first person tobefoul use the facilities that morning. It was a pure heaven that only an early-morning runner can know.
This race is pretty low-key, considering its distances. An example? As we lined up to start, the race director gave us some instructions and notes on the course ("Don't all jam up the start chute; no one's going to win the race in the first 50 meters."), said, "Ready, set go!" and we were off. The course is almost entirely on a bike path that runs along the Niagara River and Gorge. The full and ultra marathon distances take runners all the way to Niagara Falls, but the half and 10K turnarounds are way before that. The course is mostly flat, with some gentle rolling hills along the way. The "hills" are really like transitions from one part of the path to another. The path also runs in front of some gorgeous homes along the Niagara Parkway.
Overall this race, which is an out-and-back, has a park-like feel. The course was mostly shaded, but the open parts were really sunny. Considering this race is at the end of June, it could have been awfully nasty and humid. After a coolish start (mid-sixties) it warmed up quite a bit but wasn't totally oppressive. I ended up carrying my fluids (Tailwind in a hand-held bottle) because the water stops/aid stations were every 5K, and I didn't want to be too far away from water in the heat.
Personally I ran like garbage for the last part of the race. The first eight miles were decent. I had planned to stay right around 8-minute pace, which I held (sort of, was under for a few miles) through 8 miles. The last five were rough. I did a lot of walking, mostly because I just stopped caring about any kind of finish time. I did string an entire mile of running together from 9-10, but after that I just plain ran out of gas. Ah well. If nothing else, this race showed me where I need to improve, and that's never a bad thing.
The finish, as you can see below, was also on grass. This course was a literal out-and-back, so the last 20 meters or so were on the uneven surface. After receiving my medal and a bottle of water, I went back to watch my friend finish and then got the heck outta there.
I'd definitely do this race again next year. For as home-spun as this race was, it was very well-organized and attended. The race pics were all posted on the Niagara Ultra's Facebook page by the next day. Imagine that: professional race photos FOR FREE. Despite my resemblance to Gollum in all of them, I was impressed.
So for now I have my point A, and it was my performance in this race. Looking forward to working towards points B and beyond.
Last weekend I ran the half-marathon distance in the Niagara Ultra series. Coincidentally I'd heard of this race from a flyer (and enthusiastic club member) at the ATB30K expo. Runners could choose from the 10K, half marathon, full marathon or ultra marathon (50K) distances. I wisely went with the half, and decided to use it as a training run.
The race starts in Niagara-on-the-Lake, in a park, on grass, behind Kinsman Hall. This is also where runners pick up their race packets and (actually pretty nice) hooded sweatshirts. The races had half hour staggered starts, with the ultra runners going out at 7AM, marathon at 7:30, half-marathon at 8 and the 10K at 8:30.
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| At packet pickup. The Queen bestows her good luck. |
A personal note here: these bathrooms (shown below, and called "washrooms" in Canadian) were a literal GODSEND. The race started at 8AM, but since I had to drive 40 minutes and deal with an international border crossing, I drank my breakfast and coffee in the car. By the time I got to packet pick-up, things were, um, starting to happen, gastro-intestinally. The doors to these washrooms were locked when I parked my car near them, so I decided to take my chances with the ports-potties near packet pickup. However after I got my number and sweatshirt, the line for the porta-potties had approximately sixty people in it, for the eight porta-potties available. I was beyond distressed. So, I made my way back to my car to drop off my gear and, lo and behold, the washroom door was WIDE OPEN. Lord have mercy, I think I was the first person to
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| OMG this was HEAVEN. |
This race is pretty low-key, considering its distances. An example? As we lined up to start, the race director gave us some instructions and notes on the course ("Don't all jam up the start chute; no one's going to win the race in the first 50 meters."), said, "Ready, set go!" and we were off. The course is almost entirely on a bike path that runs along the Niagara River and Gorge. The full and ultra marathon distances take runners all the way to Niagara Falls, but the half and 10K turnarounds are way before that. The course is mostly flat, with some gentle rolling hills along the way. The "hills" are really like transitions from one part of the path to another. The path also runs in front of some gorgeous homes along the Niagara Parkway.
Overall this race, which is an out-and-back, has a park-like feel. The course was mostly shaded, but the open parts were really sunny. Considering this race is at the end of June, it could have been awfully nasty and humid. After a coolish start (mid-sixties) it warmed up quite a bit but wasn't totally oppressive. I ended up carrying my fluids (Tailwind in a hand-held bottle) because the water stops/aid stations were every 5K, and I didn't want to be too far away from water in the heat.
Personally I ran like garbage for the last part of the race. The first eight miles were decent. I had planned to stay right around 8-minute pace, which I held (sort of, was under for a few miles) through 8 miles. The last five were rough. I did a lot of walking, mostly because I just stopped caring about any kind of finish time. I did string an entire mile of running together from 9-10, but after that I just plain ran out of gas. Ah well. If nothing else, this race showed me where I need to improve, and that's never a bad thing.
The finish, as you can see below, was also on grass. This course was a literal out-and-back, so the last 20 meters or so were on the uneven surface. After receiving my medal and a bottle of water, I went back to watch my friend finish and then got the heck outta there.
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| Oh sweet finish line, there you are. |
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| Lookin', uh, yeah. |
So for now I have my point A, and it was my performance in this race. Looking forward to working towards points B and beyond.
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| Caught these two finishing hand in hand. Cute, right? |
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Music Magic?
Today's run was far better than Tuesday's. Although I only ran four miles, it was the best I've felt in awhile. Not fantastic, and I've definitely had better runs, even recently, but easier, less stressful.
Read that: less STRESSFUL. Let me break this down for you: there's no hope for me ever making the Olympics, or even being wildly competitive even in my city. So why should I see running as stressful? Is it because I'm not running as fast or as well as I was not that long ago? Probably. And that's kind of silly. Who cares?
Well. I guess I care. I enjoy getting better and faster, and it kinda sucks feeling like I'm getting old and slow.
But today went pretty well. I wonder if it has anything to do with listening to music? The past few months since Boston I've been running music-free in an attempt to get a handle on easy paces and being focused. Maybe, though, I have it backwards. The music does seem to help me stay focused on what I'm doing, and helps me keep going.
My last mile today, for what it's worth, was a 7:13. I'm not saying it felt easy or even good, but it wasn't impossible. I'll take this as a little victory and hold on to it.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Implosion
Face full of fire, legs full of rocks, lungs full of mud. That pretty much sums up my run today.
I had modest aspirations of running an easy six. Last night's CrossFit workout included about a gajillion back squats and fronts squats and split jerks and box jumps, which could explain my heavy legs today. But not my burnt-out lungs and brain.
I don't get it. Just a few months ago, despite marathon training not going exactly as planned, I was still running well, able to string at least a seven-miler together without incident. Now I feel like I'm lucky to get in three without having to stop. Is it anxiety? One day the run will feel good, rather effortless, if not quite as fast as I'd been running during training. The next one will be an all-out disaster.
What is happening to me? Do I need to cut back on the frequency or intensity of my CrossFit workouts to get in decent training runs? Is it the heat and humidity? Am I just broken, irreparable? On these awful runs I just want to sit down and cry. I am beyond frustrated and don't understand what I'm doing wrong. Even slowing down pace doesn't always seem to help.
I'm taking a rest day tomorrow, from everything. No weights, no WODs, no running. I need to seriously re-evaluate what the hell I'm doing before I go crazy.
I had modest aspirations of running an easy six. Last night's CrossFit workout included about a gajillion back squats and fronts squats and split jerks and box jumps, which could explain my heavy legs today. But not my burnt-out lungs and brain.
I don't get it. Just a few months ago, despite marathon training not going exactly as planned, I was still running well, able to string at least a seven-miler together without incident. Now I feel like I'm lucky to get in three without having to stop. Is it anxiety? One day the run will feel good, rather effortless, if not quite as fast as I'd been running during training. The next one will be an all-out disaster.
What is happening to me? Do I need to cut back on the frequency or intensity of my CrossFit workouts to get in decent training runs? Is it the heat and humidity? Am I just broken, irreparable? On these awful runs I just want to sit down and cry. I am beyond frustrated and don't understand what I'm doing wrong. Even slowing down pace doesn't always seem to help.
I'm taking a rest day tomorrow, from everything. No weights, no WODs, no running. I need to seriously re-evaluate what the hell I'm doing before I go crazy.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Oh, Still Running?
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| One tenth of the items packed for Boston weekend. |
You know, I have these great ambitions. Back in the winter is was to chronicle my training to the Boston Marathon. I'd record each run, its highs and lows, mile splits, and be generally inspired by my own badass self, propelling me to a PR on April 20th.
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| Just a little off the 3:20 I'd been training for. |
Um, ha ha. Womp womp. Cool story, bro.
Back in January, right after my last post, I had a gnarly bout with my left Achilles. As it turns out running on tired legs through the slippery snow isn't the greatest workout for already-overtaxed calves. Add to that I'd been running in my beloved Adidas Energy Boosts which, though light and comfy, put a lot of strain on my Achilles. I ended up taking a week off running, doing some cross-training indoors, and then getting back to running.
In the snow. And wind. And ice. And then back to the treadmill more often than I wanted.
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| Two days before the marathon, along the Charles River. Weather looks nice, huh? |
A couple of things I failed to do were to adjust my time goals and expectations to match my training, and change my attitude to truly enjoy the race experience. When race day rolled around, and the weather was, uhhh, sub-optimal (read: soaking wet and chilly), I simply got halfway and said SCREW THIS. I think if I had adjusted earlier on in the training I would have been better mentally prepared for the day.
Or maybe not. Who can say?
Anyway. I feel like part of me broke somewhere between training for Boston and the actual race. Currently, I'm working on true recovery runs. For a few weeks this meant running without a watch and not stressing about pace. I can't say honestly that I believe I'm in the best head space, running-wise, but not worrying about hitting certain times has helped get me to a better place.
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| Although a certain footwear company also uses this as its motto, I like to think I adopted it first. Potato, potahto. |
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| You haven't seen the last of me. |
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Freaking Cold
Damn, it's cold out there. I mean, it is January and all. But still, brr. Yesterday I got in an easyish six after a crazy, burpee-filled WOD. My back is a little wonky after Monday's workout, and after a half mile I thought I'd have to turn back. That, and the stinging, biting, freezing wind and snow directly in my face was giving me just the slightest pause.
But I stuck it out and eventually my back loosened up. By mile 2 I was pretty much in my groove again.
Today looks even colder, windier and snowier. Trying to gear myself up for this. The plan is to do hill repeats, but Saturday we're heading to Chestnut Ridge, which is our hill destination around these parts. Maybe I'll do a mix of hills and easy.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Soaked to the Bone
I kind of love Sunday runs. They're the yin to the Saturday run's yang. Mellow, time to regroup and reflect on this whole process; simultaneously closing out a week of training while ushering in a new one. Wiping clean the slate of Saturday evening's transgressions.
It was fucking pouring out today, though. Just six, which turned into 6.5. Absolutely hideous torrential rain the entire time. My stupid yurbuds earbuds kept slipping out of my ears. Of course it stopped raining as soon as I turned onto my street. Ah well. I did it. Six and a half miles closer to Boston.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Long Saturday Yet Again
10 miles more! Ran today with my RBFF and real-life BFF Mo. We usuallydo our Saturdays together, leaving our houses at the same time and meeting in the middle. This time around I'd like to mix training plans a little. I had success with Hansons, but also ran my best half with Hal Higdon's advanced II program.
That said, Mo and I ran the first 8.5 together at a leisurely pace. I ran the last 1.5 closer to marathon pace. Well, faster, actually. But I do think running faster when tired helps physically and mentally prepare one for those later marathon miles. I'm going to do the last 20-ish percent of every long run at pace (7:30) to see how I feel.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
2015, Bring It On!
Bet you thought I was gone, huh?
Well, probably not since literally NO ONE reads this.
But here we are, January 1, 2015. A day, every year, when people around the world take a deep breath, put their dreams and hopes out in front of them, and jump in. Or at least try to. I do not make resolutions, but I do always try to keep improving.
This year I'm training for the Boaton Marathon. April 20 I'll be lining up in Hopkinton, and I can hardly believe it. I'm in week 3 of the Hanson's training program. I'm tweaking it a bit to better address my weaknesses and schedule. I'm also doing CrossFit workouts three times each week.
Today's run was a windy and cold six-miler, supposedly at pace. If I can run 26.2 in 7:30 miles, I'll be thrilled. It's a big goal, but I don't think it's impossible.
Maybe I do make resolutions.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
There Goes the Wagon
This is one of the reasons I am a terrible blogger--I forget to write every day. Here we are, over a week since my last post, and still nothing really new to say.
Eliot is sick today, or I should write *still* sick from yesterday. I had a run planned at my in-law's house for the daytime yesterday which was cancelled at 1AM when he came into our room all fevered up. Poor guy. He's at the point in the virus now where he feels completely back to normal when the ibuprofen is doing its thing . . . but then when it wears off, ugh, he's toast. Here's hoping we're back on our feet by tomorrow--and that Oliver doesn't get it, too! Especially since there's the dance recital this weekend . . . I can't even think about it.
Anyway, back to the running. So my daytime run turned into a desperation-only evening run, post-activities. Yesterday was OF COURSE something else that we couldn't miss--soccer pictures. The boys both have practice on Wednesday nights, and Eliot will wait mostly patiently through Oliver's--Christopher comes to pick Oliver up when his is done, and then Eliot practices after that. But last night was picture night--of course. We made it work, and Eliot was there just for pictures and no longer.
We rushed home, I dropped him off and changed into my running gear. Normally I would NEVER opt for an evening run, but since it was National Running Day I thought I should celebrate. Ha. I remembered quickly what I hate about evening-time running, and that is nearly everything. So much traffic! So many people! So much food consumed throughout the day coming back to haunt me! But I finished 5 (relatively) fast miles and was home in time to put Oliver to bed.
Did I mention Thursdays are my morning to run? So there were fewer than 12 hours between that fast five and this morning's easy seven. My hamstring definitely did NOT forget to mention that--in fact it reminded me of it nearly the entire way. I promised with every step that I'd stretch and foam roll today and tomorrow . . . a promise on which I still need to make good, of course.
I can't believe I used to be a strict evening/afternoon runner! When I was working and kid-free, I used to say I needed a full day of stress behind me to go out for a run. Today I am the complete opposite; I love getting up before everyone else and starting my day with a completely clean slate. I can't say last night's run was completely horrible--a run is still a run and it was a pretty good one at that. It is highly unlikely I'll be turning off my alarm any time soon, though.
Run happy!
Eliot is sick today, or I should write *still* sick from yesterday. I had a run planned at my in-law's house for the daytime yesterday which was cancelled at 1AM when he came into our room all fevered up. Poor guy. He's at the point in the virus now where he feels completely back to normal when the ibuprofen is doing its thing . . . but then when it wears off, ugh, he's toast. Here's hoping we're back on our feet by tomorrow--and that Oliver doesn't get it, too! Especially since there's the dance recital this weekend . . . I can't even think about it.
Anyway, back to the running. So my daytime run turned into a desperation-only evening run, post-activities. Yesterday was OF COURSE something else that we couldn't miss--soccer pictures. The boys both have practice on Wednesday nights, and Eliot will wait mostly patiently through Oliver's--Christopher comes to pick Oliver up when his is done, and then Eliot practices after that. But last night was picture night--of course. We made it work, and Eliot was there just for pictures and no longer.
We rushed home, I dropped him off and changed into my running gear. Normally I would NEVER opt for an evening run, but since it was National Running Day I thought I should celebrate. Ha. I remembered quickly what I hate about evening-time running, and that is nearly everything. So much traffic! So many people! So much food consumed throughout the day coming back to haunt me! But I finished 5 (relatively) fast miles and was home in time to put Oliver to bed.
Did I mention Thursdays are my morning to run? So there were fewer than 12 hours between that fast five and this morning's easy seven. My hamstring definitely did NOT forget to mention that--in fact it reminded me of it nearly the entire way. I promised with every step that I'd stretch and foam roll today and tomorrow . . . a promise on which I still need to make good, of course.
I can't believe I used to be a strict evening/afternoon runner! When I was working and kid-free, I used to say I needed a full day of stress behind me to go out for a run. Today I am the complete opposite; I love getting up before everyone else and starting my day with a completely clean slate. I can't say last night's run was completely horrible--a run is still a run and it was a pretty good one at that. It is highly unlikely I'll be turning off my alarm any time soon, though.
Run happy!
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Tuesday, Wednesday
It's another lovely week of running! The weather has been pretty perfect--a little windy, yes. Not too hot yet, which is a bit of a bummer during the rest of my life. Can I tell you how freaking cold it was at soccer tonight? For two hours? Holy cats, I was frozen.
But I digress. Yesterday, Tuesday, was a very pleasant six miles in the early morning. It's a bit disconcerting that it's so light out at 5:30AM. By the time I get home I'm in a near panic thinking it must be close to the time Christopher has to leave. I am not, however, complaining that it's lighter out in the morning. Just kinda wish the birds who have made a nest in our neighbors' eaves would SHUT THE CHIRPING UP FOR FIVE MINUTES AT 4AM!
Again, digress. The six was fantastic. Last mile was the fastest, which felt good. It's hard for me to run fast in the early morning; it always feels harder than it should, or harder than it feels later in the day. I don't know.
The six I did today was not so easy. I actually had to stop twice to regroup. The wind was assaulting me in three different directions and I think I just couldn't slow down. That happens, sometimes, where my brain tells the legs and lugs to slow down but they just . . . won't. Anyway, after the last, um, regrouping, the last 1.5 miles felt much better. Maybe I just need to meditate, or think less, or, whatever.
And, um, I wasn't going to do any races until the Fall, but I might have just agreed to do a half at the end of June. I am 100% positive it will just be for fun, so there's no pressure to go as fast as I possibly could. And I'd be doing it with my friend Elizabeth, who is a fantastic runner. We'll see.
Oh, there's another half in October I'm looking at, too. I think I need an intervention.
Run happy!
But I digress. Yesterday, Tuesday, was a very pleasant six miles in the early morning. It's a bit disconcerting that it's so light out at 5:30AM. By the time I get home I'm in a near panic thinking it must be close to the time Christopher has to leave. I am not, however, complaining that it's lighter out in the morning. Just kinda wish the birds who have made a nest in our neighbors' eaves would SHUT THE CHIRPING UP FOR FIVE MINUTES AT 4AM!
Again, digress. The six was fantastic. Last mile was the fastest, which felt good. It's hard for me to run fast in the early morning; it always feels harder than it should, or harder than it feels later in the day. I don't know.
The six I did today was not so easy. I actually had to stop twice to regroup. The wind was assaulting me in three different directions and I think I just couldn't slow down. That happens, sometimes, where my brain tells the legs and lugs to slow down but they just . . . won't. Anyway, after the last, um, regrouping, the last 1.5 miles felt much better. Maybe I just need to meditate, or think less, or, whatever.
And, um, I wasn't going to do any races until the Fall, but I might have just agreed to do a half at the end of June. I am 100% positive it will just be for fun, so there's no pressure to go as fast as I possibly could. And I'd be doing it with my friend Elizabeth, who is a fantastic runner. We'll see.
Oh, there's another half in October I'm looking at, too. I think I need an intervention.
Run happy!
Monday, May 26, 2014
Marathon Relay
One race, one LONG race, broken up into four legs. OK, so it was just a marathon broken into three 10Ks and one 12K--not exactly a coast-to-coast multi-day event. This was our second year running the relay; my husband started us off, then his best friend at leg two, his work partner at leg three, and me at the anchor.
And oh, what an anchor I was. I guess the marathon is still in my legs because I actually needed to WALK about 4.5 miles into my 7.4-mile gig. Oy. I definitely started too fast and couldn't sustain the pace. After my little walk break, or regrouping as I like to call it, I felt a million times better. My pace slowed from roughly 6:45 per mile to about a 7:10 per mile and it made a world of difference. I did, however, also yank out my headphones. It's strange: I love to run with music mostly all the time, but in the marathon and also this past Sunday, the music was making me NUTS!
Moving on. I got passed by a few runners who I'd passed just a few miles back, and when I started running again I fell in with a few of them. The first guy, at about mile 24 on Richmond looked strong so I started to chat him up. He was trying to break 3:10--we were on pace for about a 3:08. He was trying to qualify for Boston; I told him he was going to do it, ran a little bit with him and then took off. Later, on Delaware, we passed the water stop at mile 25 where a volunteer was shouting "ONE MORE MILE!" I turned to a runner next to me in a Canadian-flag singlet and said, "Well, actually one point two, but who's counting?" We chatted a bit and I told him, truthfully, that he was very smooth and relaxed for being at the pace we were running at mile 25. He was pacing the guy behind me, another guy from Canada. They'd done another marathon a few weeks ago--the same day I did Pittsburgh--and were trying to improve their time. They'd already qualified for Boston, too.
So, I ended up finishing my leg in 3:07 and change. We were hoping to break 3 hours but none of us were quite up to it this year, especially not me. But I passed another relaying woman in the last quarter mile and our team still came in third. And when I finished (and didn't throw up, thank goodness) I turned around and found the first guy I ran with. He did it! I gave him a high five and apologized for being so annoying. He said no way, I said, "See you in Boston!"
And right before we went home, after I found my husband and kids, I saw the Canadians and gave out some more high fives. I love the relay, and I love the marathon. It was a great day.
Run happy.
And oh, what an anchor I was. I guess the marathon is still in my legs because I actually needed to WALK about 4.5 miles into my 7.4-mile gig. Oy. I definitely started too fast and couldn't sustain the pace. After my little walk break, or regrouping as I like to call it, I felt a million times better. My pace slowed from roughly 6:45 per mile to about a 7:10 per mile and it made a world of difference. I did, however, also yank out my headphones. It's strange: I love to run with music mostly all the time, but in the marathon and also this past Sunday, the music was making me NUTS!
Moving on. I got passed by a few runners who I'd passed just a few miles back, and when I started running again I fell in with a few of them. The first guy, at about mile 24 on Richmond looked strong so I started to chat him up. He was trying to break 3:10--we were on pace for about a 3:08. He was trying to qualify for Boston; I told him he was going to do it, ran a little bit with him and then took off. Later, on Delaware, we passed the water stop at mile 25 where a volunteer was shouting "ONE MORE MILE!" I turned to a runner next to me in a Canadian-flag singlet and said, "Well, actually one point two, but who's counting?" We chatted a bit and I told him, truthfully, that he was very smooth and relaxed for being at the pace we were running at mile 25. He was pacing the guy behind me, another guy from Canada. They'd done another marathon a few weeks ago--the same day I did Pittsburgh--and were trying to improve their time. They'd already qualified for Boston, too.
So, I ended up finishing my leg in 3:07 and change. We were hoping to break 3 hours but none of us were quite up to it this year, especially not me. But I passed another relaying woman in the last quarter mile and our team still came in third. And when I finished (and didn't throw up, thank goodness) I turned around and found the first guy I ran with. He did it! I gave him a high five and apologized for being so annoying. He said no way, I said, "See you in Boston!"
And right before we went home, after I found my husband and kids, I saw the Canadians and gave out some more high fives. I love the relay, and I love the marathon. It was a great day.
Run happy.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Quiet Calm Mornings
Thursdays are my favorite. Marathon training gave me tempo runs on Thursday mornings, starting at 6 miles a pop, all the way up to 10 miles. When I first looked at the training (Hansons Marathon Method) I was just a little super daunted by the thought of a ten mile run during the week. The way our day works, I needed to be finished before most people were hitting the snooze button. How, on earth, would I EVER get enough sleep?
The weeks went by and the miles went up and suddenly, Thursday mornings? I was running 8, 9, 10 miles and was finished by 6:45AM. It was both a bit grueling and exhilarating. I love getting out of my house, in the quiet morning, running on the streets by myself. Well, mostly by myself. Here and there I'd pass another intrepid soul or pair of souls getting it done.
Thursday was also the sixth day in a row every week of running--another part of the program that seriously freaked me out. SIX DAYS IN A ROW?! I'd never done that before. The first Thursday found me a little tired, but not completely defeated. And every week after that Thursdays got a little easier and stronger. And again, suddenly, I was running six days in a row, loving it and feeling great. I would be lying if I said I didn't also equally love my full day off on Fridays. But that's not the point.
I'm back to my pre-marathon running schedule, in which my longest streak is three days in a row, Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday. Last Thursday morning my legs were heavy and tired. Today was better, but still a little tired. It was cool and getting bright, a little humid. I had it in my head I was going to run eight, but at about two I realized that wasn't going to happen. I pulled out seven, and that was that. It was so lovely to be out in the morning, listening to music, enjoying the sun rising earlier and dodging cars in the street.
Run happy.
The weeks went by and the miles went up and suddenly, Thursday mornings? I was running 8, 9, 10 miles and was finished by 6:45AM. It was both a bit grueling and exhilarating. I love getting out of my house, in the quiet morning, running on the streets by myself. Well, mostly by myself. Here and there I'd pass another intrepid soul or pair of souls getting it done.
Thursday was also the sixth day in a row every week of running--another part of the program that seriously freaked me out. SIX DAYS IN A ROW?! I'd never done that before. The first Thursday found me a little tired, but not completely defeated. And every week after that Thursdays got a little easier and stronger. And again, suddenly, I was running six days in a row, loving it and feeling great. I would be lying if I said I didn't also equally love my full day off on Fridays. But that's not the point.
I'm back to my pre-marathon running schedule, in which my longest streak is three days in a row, Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday. Last Thursday morning my legs were heavy and tired. Today was better, but still a little tired. It was cool and getting bright, a little humid. I had it in my head I was going to run eight, but at about two I realized that wasn't going to happen. I pulled out seven, and that was that. It was so lovely to be out in the morning, listening to music, enjoying the sun rising earlier and dodging cars in the street.
Run happy.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Crap Weather Wednesday
If it's Wednesday, you can pretty much guarantee the weather sucks.
My running schedule puts me at my parents' house on Wednesdays; they babysit my nephew every Wednesday and I bring my youngest son over to play. And, well, so I can run. But since the first of this year every SINGLE Wednesday has been just horrible, ridiculously awful weather.
Back throughout the winter there were a few (a FEW!) blizzards (PLURAL!) and, without fail, the worst of the weather would be on a Wednesday. One absurd Wednesday I ran at my inlaws; the snow was blowing both sideways and up from the ground, somehow. I ran straight into nearly gale-force winds, was blinded and continuously stung in the face by ice pellets, and basically wanted to find a sinkhole to swallow me on the spot. This spring has seen some impressive rainstorms, sometimes dropping an inch of rain. What day would you guess is ALWAYS raining? You are correct.
And if, by chance, the weather wasn't horrendous on a Wednesday, then one or both of my kids were sick.
I have learned quite a bit from running through all these shitty days this year. I'm not going to melt in the rain, I'm not going to blow away or get buried in the snow. There's always a reason NOT to run, and the perfect weather days are scarce. The only way the run's going to get done is to just get out there and do it. And while I feel like I should burn all my fleece-lined winter running gear after these past six months, I got out there, and I did it--and I continue to do it.
Today was no different from any other Wednesday. Mo had the day off so we planned to meet for coffee at 10. That meant I'd need to get Oliver and myself to my parents', run, shower, chit-chat and get back across town in about 90 minutes. I had everything perfectly timed and got to my parents' house . . . just as it started to pour. I had five and a half planned for this morning, and as I waited for the rain to abate, my perfectly-timed schedule started to erode. Fuck. I got out there, fired up the GPS and just went.
I only had time for five, and the rain let up just enough that I didn't get completely drenched. I let it rip for the last mile and felt GOOOOOOOD. Sometimes running fast just hits the spot. So I got it done today, didn't melt, and still made it in time for coffee.
Run happy.
My running schedule puts me at my parents' house on Wednesdays; they babysit my nephew every Wednesday and I bring my youngest son over to play. And, well, so I can run. But since the first of this year every SINGLE Wednesday has been just horrible, ridiculously awful weather.
Back throughout the winter there were a few (a FEW!) blizzards (PLURAL!) and, without fail, the worst of the weather would be on a Wednesday. One absurd Wednesday I ran at my inlaws; the snow was blowing both sideways and up from the ground, somehow. I ran straight into nearly gale-force winds, was blinded and continuously stung in the face by ice pellets, and basically wanted to find a sinkhole to swallow me on the spot. This spring has seen some impressive rainstorms, sometimes dropping an inch of rain. What day would you guess is ALWAYS raining? You are correct.
And if, by chance, the weather wasn't horrendous on a Wednesday, then one or both of my kids were sick.
I have learned quite a bit from running through all these shitty days this year. I'm not going to melt in the rain, I'm not going to blow away or get buried in the snow. There's always a reason NOT to run, and the perfect weather days are scarce. The only way the run's going to get done is to just get out there and do it. And while I feel like I should burn all my fleece-lined winter running gear after these past six months, I got out there, and I did it--and I continue to do it.
Today was no different from any other Wednesday. Mo had the day off so we planned to meet for coffee at 10. That meant I'd need to get Oliver and myself to my parents', run, shower, chit-chat and get back across town in about 90 minutes. I had everything perfectly timed and got to my parents' house . . . just as it started to pour. I had five and a half planned for this morning, and as I waited for the rain to abate, my perfectly-timed schedule started to erode. Fuck. I got out there, fired up the GPS and just went.
I only had time for five, and the rain let up just enough that I didn't get completely drenched. I let it rip for the last mile and felt GOOOOOOOD. Sometimes running fast just hits the spot. So I got it done today, didn't melt, and still made it in time for coffee.
Run happy.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Rumble in the Tumble
Can we be frank here for a minute? I mean, sure we can--this is a blog no one reads! This morning I had a run that was cut short due to . . . well, who needs to be polite? MAJOR IMPENDING POOP DOOM.
Holy cats, I was looking so forward to this morning's run. The weather was perfect: fifty degrees, calm, clear. I didn't even wear a jacket. I was planning on a nice, easy seven miles. In fact, it was one of those runs when you feel like you can run forever.
IF YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE POOPING YOUR PANTS THE ENTIRE WAY.
Somewhere between my front door and the end of my street I got the little nagging feeling that maaaaaybe I should turn back, get my business done at home, and head back out. But by the time I woke up this morning (mentally--not when I physically got out of bed), got everything I needed to do done and got out the door, I didn't think I'd have enough time to run as far as I wanted to in the time that was left.
Well. Bad choice.
Legs felt great, head was great, and MAN did I need to poop every step of the way.
Let's me be clear about this: I am not someone who can just go into a public restroom and cavalierly drop a deuce. The first time in my entire life that I pooped in a communal bathroom was in college; in fact, I recall being most nervous about that aspect of dorm life more than anything else (as it turns out I SHOULD have been more nervous about my freshman roommate sitch, but that's another story). Anyway, it takes a LOT for me to use a bathroom other than my own to pinch a loaf---and this morning, I would have traded my kingdom for just about any bathroom.
Today I happened to run a route that included exactly zero viable bathroom options, other than possibly squatting on someone's front lawn like a dog. Ooh, I was suffering. I made it to 5.99 miles before I had to pause, compose myself, take a little waddle/walk around in place and give a very stern talking to my muscles. I ran for another half mile before the turtle nearly won.
Shamefully I walked the last half mile home, waddling, sweating and breathing deep the entire way. Ugh, I even passed the constantly-locked bathroom in the cemetery across the street from out house. Side note: why the FUCK do they keep that bathroom locked?! It's just RIGHT THERE by the front gate, taunting anyone who is foolish enough to think she can just leisurely saunter in and do her business.
I made it home right in the nick of time. Mostly.
Oh my god, I'm an animal. I'll get that last half mile tomorrow.
Run happy.
Holy cats, I was looking so forward to this morning's run. The weather was perfect: fifty degrees, calm, clear. I didn't even wear a jacket. I was planning on a nice, easy seven miles. In fact, it was one of those runs when you feel like you can run forever.
IF YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE POOPING YOUR PANTS THE ENTIRE WAY.
Somewhere between my front door and the end of my street I got the little nagging feeling that maaaaaybe I should turn back, get my business done at home, and head back out. But by the time I woke up this morning (mentally--not when I physically got out of bed), got everything I needed to do done and got out the door, I didn't think I'd have enough time to run as far as I wanted to in the time that was left.
Well. Bad choice.
Legs felt great, head was great, and MAN did I need to poop every step of the way.
Let's me be clear about this: I am not someone who can just go into a public restroom and cavalierly drop a deuce. The first time in my entire life that I pooped in a communal bathroom was in college; in fact, I recall being most nervous about that aspect of dorm life more than anything else (as it turns out I SHOULD have been more nervous about my freshman roommate sitch, but that's another story). Anyway, it takes a LOT for me to use a bathroom other than my own to pinch a loaf---and this morning, I would have traded my kingdom for just about any bathroom.
Today I happened to run a route that included exactly zero viable bathroom options, other than possibly squatting on someone's front lawn like a dog. Ooh, I was suffering. I made it to 5.99 miles before I had to pause, compose myself, take a little waddle/walk around in place and give a very stern talking to my muscles. I ran for another half mile before the turtle nearly won.
Shamefully I walked the last half mile home, waddling, sweating and breathing deep the entire way. Ugh, I even passed the constantly-locked bathroom in the cemetery across the street from out house. Side note: why the FUCK do they keep that bathroom locked?! It's just RIGHT THERE by the front gate, taunting anyone who is foolish enough to think she can just leisurely saunter in and do her business.
I made it home right in the nick of time. Mostly.
Oh my god, I'm an animal. I'll get that last half mile tomorrow.
Run happy.
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