The stats - I ran a 30:04 (by my watch - took about 1:20 to cross the start line, more on that later) and while it is a huge PR, I was really pissed about it. I was so close to a 30 min 5K - four seconds! - and I still had gas in the tank at the finish. So many mistakes on this race.
First and foremost, my watch. What is it with me and watches? The Nike+ has a foot pod that talks to a watch. Just before the start, I checked to make sure the watch was linked to the foot pod. And I got a brand new error message - it said "WALK AWAY." WTF? Are you KIDDING me? The gun went off just as I was having an oh shit moment. I had muscled my way ahead of all the baby joggers and non-runners, so was only seconds from the start at that point.
When I was flight instructing, an important part of my lessons was teaching my students how to deal with distractions. Flying, like life, is full of them. Getting sidelined by distractions in the air can be extremely hazardous, as a quick look through NTSB reports will show. It's something that even the most seasoned pilots can experience, but is particularly dangerous for novices. In an effort to cultivate the skill of prioritization, when my students were particularly overburdened, such as on final approach to land, I'd reach behind them and pop open the door.
No, it's not dangerous. The doors on light aircraft will typically open about a half-inch, posing no danger to occupants. True story, I once flew for almost 50 miles with an open door before I noticed. But, it's ever so tempting to drop everything and try to shut the door. Which, due to physics (google Bernoulli if you're interested), does not want to shut. So you're stuck wrestling with a door that you can't shut, meanwhile, you have basically given up controlling the aircraft, which is a much more dire situation than having a wee bit extra ventilation. I'd let my students dig themselves into a (metaphorical) hole with this door trick, then I'd take over the controls, land safely, and we'd pull on to a taxiway where we'd have a discussion about prioritizing.
My lecture always started and ended with this maxim: Fly the airplane, not the door.
So when my watch didn't link with my shoe when the gun went off, what should I have done? Flown the airplane. I should have just said "screw it" and run across the start and done my best to pace myself. I still would have been in a pack of once a year runners, so I was in little danger of going out too fast. By the time I broke free, I'd have been in the longest uphill section, and it's kind of impossible for me to go too fast on those. And then it's downhill to the finish, where you'd better be going as fast as possible anyway.
So what did I do? I flew the door. I did exactly what I spent years telling my students not to - I gave in to the distraction and lost sight of the real task at hand. Yes, I pulled off to the side of the course before I crossed the start and spent one minute and twenty seconds making my watch talk to my shoe. And I barely even looked at it during the race. All that minute and twenty seconds got me was flustered and stuck in the pack.
When I crossed the finish shy of my big goal, I was so pissed I wanted to punch a hole in a wall. I didn't spend any time socializing or milling around, I just sulked back to my car. I'll have another chance at the 30 minute 5K on New Year's Day, and I guarantee I'm not going to blow my chance because my stupid watch - something that has nothing to do with my legs - doesn't work.
I am begrudingly thankful for being reminded of such an important life lesson. Fly the airplane, not the door.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
slow boat
Today I had a lovely run after work. I ran just over three miles in 33:03, a 10:56 pace. After so many runs hovering around the 10 minute mark, I'm remarkably satisfied with tonight's run.
Why? Because some days you run for speed, and other days you run for love.
My now TWO year old has been on the verge of a cold for a few days now, and came home from school today with a low-grade fever, an incessant cough, a drippy nose, and the need to be near her mama. Her mama came home from work with a day's worth of fluorescent light still rattling in her brain, and a need to leave the vestiges of the cubicle out on the pavement.
The original plan was for The Supportive Husband to entertain both kids on the playground while I dashed off three speedy miles, but one look at wee Sami, and I knew that wasn't happening. For a moment, I cursed myself for working through lunch rather than using that time for my run. But then my spirits lifted when she said, between hacks, with one rheumy eye spilling a tear down her cheek, "Mama, buggy ride?" And how could I say no?
A cup of milk, a box of raisins, and off we went into the warm evening. Even in her weakened condition she sang songs and chattered the whole way. I stop to pick up dropped raisins, to wipe her nose, to give her a drink from my water bottle. I picked not the greatest route for the buggy - some big, long hills that are just unrunnable with a combined 50 pounds of child and buggy to push up. So after a while, I quit looking at the pace on my watch, and sang songs back, found more raisins, wiped the nose a few more times. We watched the sky turn from daylight blue to twilight gray, and the web of contrails light up a brilliant pinky orange.
And when we got home she settled on to my shoulder in the way only sick kids do, and made those 10:56's feel like victory.
Why? Because some days you run for speed, and other days you run for love.
My now TWO year old has been on the verge of a cold for a few days now, and came home from school today with a low-grade fever, an incessant cough, a drippy nose, and the need to be near her mama. Her mama came home from work with a day's worth of fluorescent light still rattling in her brain, and a need to leave the vestiges of the cubicle out on the pavement.
The original plan was for The Supportive Husband to entertain both kids on the playground while I dashed off three speedy miles, but one look at wee Sami, and I knew that wasn't happening. For a moment, I cursed myself for working through lunch rather than using that time for my run. But then my spirits lifted when she said, between hacks, with one rheumy eye spilling a tear down her cheek, "Mama, buggy ride?" And how could I say no?
A cup of milk, a box of raisins, and off we went into the warm evening. Even in her weakened condition she sang songs and chattered the whole way. I stop to pick up dropped raisins, to wipe her nose, to give her a drink from my water bottle. I picked not the greatest route for the buggy - some big, long hills that are just unrunnable with a combined 50 pounds of child and buggy to push up. So after a while, I quit looking at the pace on my watch, and sang songs back, found more raisins, wiped the nose a few more times. We watched the sky turn from daylight blue to twilight gray, and the web of contrails light up a brilliant pinky orange.
And when we got home she settled on to my shoulder in the way only sick kids do, and made those 10:56's feel like victory.
Monday, November 15, 2010
junk miles
I've heard this term before, referring to those weekday runs that you do not for speed or tempo, but just to put hay in the barn, so to speak. The kind of runs with no real agenda, other than accumulating a few miles to keep your legs working, and to justify your long run mileage.
I'm coming to love my junk miles. Don't get me wrong, I crave distance, mostly because I know I'll never have speed. But popping out at dusk on a fall evening for 25 minutes of loping along, just because I can, is delightful.
After such a long, hot, impossible summer, I am reveling in the cool weather. Rather than fight against the short days, I'm fully embracing them. I've got all kinds of reflective gear - a vest, a headband, bracelets, - and a headlamp, and suddenly there are a million more hours of the day available to me to get my fix. I usually run early in the morning, rather than in the evening, because it just fits better with our schedules, but today I had the chance to run at dusk, and I took it.
It was disorienting, running as it is getting darker and darker, when I'm used to starting out in the pitch black, and running as the sky begins to glow. I hadn't brought my headlamp, so just minutes into my run, I couldn't see where my feet were going to land. Once I got over the needing to see, it was a pleasant kind of sensory deprivation. I spied several other runners, also in their reflective gear, out for their nightly constitutionals. It's rare for me to see another soul on my morning runs.
I did see many more cars than I see in the morning - people headed home at the end of the workday. The pilot in me worried about ruining my night vision from the oncoming headlights, but the runner in me just chuckled and kept trusting her feet to the abyss.
I'm coming to love my junk miles. Don't get me wrong, I crave distance, mostly because I know I'll never have speed. But popping out at dusk on a fall evening for 25 minutes of loping along, just because I can, is delightful.
After such a long, hot, impossible summer, I am reveling in the cool weather. Rather than fight against the short days, I'm fully embracing them. I've got all kinds of reflective gear - a vest, a headband, bracelets, - and a headlamp, and suddenly there are a million more hours of the day available to me to get my fix. I usually run early in the morning, rather than in the evening, because it just fits better with our schedules, but today I had the chance to run at dusk, and I took it.
It was disorienting, running as it is getting darker and darker, when I'm used to starting out in the pitch black, and running as the sky begins to glow. I hadn't brought my headlamp, so just minutes into my run, I couldn't see where my feet were going to land. Once I got over the needing to see, it was a pleasant kind of sensory deprivation. I spied several other runners, also in their reflective gear, out for their nightly constitutionals. It's rare for me to see another soul on my morning runs.
I did see many more cars than I see in the morning - people headed home at the end of the workday. The pilot in me worried about ruining my night vision from the oncoming headlights, but the runner in me just chuckled and kept trusting her feet to the abyss.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
it had to happen sooner or later
I've had such a string of great, uplifting, inspiring runs, that a dud was bound to come my way.
I went for a 3 mile run on my lunch break and it sucked. Suuuuuuuuucked. Suh-hucked. I had a very busy, stressful work morning, and I was so looking forward to blowing off some steam. The second I could break away, I dashed out the door and away I went. Yes, I started out too fast. Rookie! And then I underestimated my route mileage, and realized that I was going to have to do some creative doubling back to get up to three. So then I was tired, burnt out, and running around in circles like an idiot. By the time I finished, I could barely walk, and for some odd reason the pressure of my hat on my head made me feel like I was going to puke.
I usually walk and stretch after a run, but today I sat the f*** down.
But, ever the optimist, I looked for the good in my lousy run.
-It is a PERFECT fall day today. I mean, PERFECT. Cool, clear, beautiful foliage. Oh, your heart just sings on days like this, and I'm grateful to have been outdoors.
-I ran 10:10's. This was the most jaw-dropping for me. My sluggish, crappy run is 10:10's. That's pretty freakin' awesome for me.
I went for a 3 mile run on my lunch break and it sucked. Suuuuuuuuucked. Suh-hucked. I had a very busy, stressful work morning, and I was so looking forward to blowing off some steam. The second I could break away, I dashed out the door and away I went. Yes, I started out too fast. Rookie! And then I underestimated my route mileage, and realized that I was going to have to do some creative doubling back to get up to three. So then I was tired, burnt out, and running around in circles like an idiot. By the time I finished, I could barely walk, and for some odd reason the pressure of my hat on my head made me feel like I was going to puke.
I usually walk and stretch after a run, but today I sat the f*** down.
But, ever the optimist, I looked for the good in my lousy run.
-It is a PERFECT fall day today. I mean, PERFECT. Cool, clear, beautiful foliage. Oh, your heart just sings on days like this, and I'm grateful to have been outdoors.
-I ran 10:10's. This was the most jaw-dropping for me. My sluggish, crappy run is 10:10's. That's pretty freakin' awesome for me.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
breaking the barrier
I have officially signed up for the 10 Miler training program, and the planets all aligned and I actually got to go to the group run. Regular readers of my blog (both of them) probably know that one of my taglines about running is that I run to be alone. I suppose I'll have to eat my words after this morning.
Coach Mark was there giving us a pep talk. Again, he talked about the Kenyans, which always makes me snicker - I am about as un-Kenyan as you could get, even ignoring the fact that I might be one of the whitest women on the planet. But truthfully, listening to Mark evangelize about running is one of my happy places. It's his words that helped me find my identity after Max's birth. Even if he never remembers my name, he always addresses me as an athlete, for which I am eternally thankful. As much as I complain about standing in the cold to listen to him remind us to hydrate and wear layers, I truly enjoy it, and find it comforting and inspiring that someone so legendary in our local running community has made it his life's work to be a coach to athletes like me.
Amongst the sea of unfamiliar faces was another mom from Sami's daycare. We ended up running together and chatting the whole time, and I never even glanced at my watch. When I got home, I uploaded my run and found this:
What the WHAT?!!
I held a steady 10 min/mile pace while gabbing. Huh. How about that. I'll admit that my running partner was far less short of breath than me, and was probably holding herself back, but it was an altogether comfortable and pleasant run. And fast!
Maybe I need to reconsider the solitude thing.
The big picture is that for the first time ever, I can actually conceive of doing a 30 minute 5K, and not dying or vomiting from the effort. I still have another 20 seconds/mile to deal with, but I honestly think it's doable. I have three weeks until the Turkey Trot, and I doubt I'll be able to do it then, but it's always been a fast race for me. And the next opportunity will be the New Year's Day 5K, which has the advantages of being flat and at 11am.
A 10 min/mile pace has always been both a mental and physical barrier for me. And I almost didn't notice that I ran right through it.
Coach Mark was there giving us a pep talk. Again, he talked about the Kenyans, which always makes me snicker - I am about as un-Kenyan as you could get, even ignoring the fact that I might be one of the whitest women on the planet. But truthfully, listening to Mark evangelize about running is one of my happy places. It's his words that helped me find my identity after Max's birth. Even if he never remembers my name, he always addresses me as an athlete, for which I am eternally thankful. As much as I complain about standing in the cold to listen to him remind us to hydrate and wear layers, I truly enjoy it, and find it comforting and inspiring that someone so legendary in our local running community has made it his life's work to be a coach to athletes like me.
Amongst the sea of unfamiliar faces was another mom from Sami's daycare. We ended up running together and chatting the whole time, and I never even glanced at my watch. When I got home, I uploaded my run and found this:
What the WHAT?!!
I held a steady 10 min/mile pace while gabbing. Huh. How about that. I'll admit that my running partner was far less short of breath than me, and was probably holding herself back, but it was an altogether comfortable and pleasant run. And fast!
Maybe I need to reconsider the solitude thing.
The big picture is that for the first time ever, I can actually conceive of doing a 30 minute 5K, and not dying or vomiting from the effort. I still have another 20 seconds/mile to deal with, but I honestly think it's doable. I have three weeks until the Turkey Trot, and I doubt I'll be able to do it then, but it's always been a fast race for me. And the next opportunity will be the New Year's Day 5K, which has the advantages of being flat and at 11am.
A 10 min/mile pace has always been both a mental and physical barrier for me. And I almost didn't notice that I ran right through it.
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