First, a few stats:
Races run: 9
PR's: 8
Most time knocked off a PR: 15m16s off 13.1
Most time/mile knocked off a PR: 1:11 off 10 mi; runner up: 1:10/mi off 13.1
Barriers broken: 30 min in the 5K, 100 min in the 10 miler
Miles run: a lot!
Treadmill sessions: too many!
Lowest outdoor temperature on a long run: 17 degrees F
Days of training lost due to injury: 0
Long runs missed: 0
New friends: yes :)
Weight lost: 0 lbs
It's been a charmed season, that's for sure. No injury, no major illness, no major snowfall. It was tough to keep up training with the background level of busy that goes on in my life. It's been such a great season, such huge PR's. I had hoped to break 30 minutes in the 5K, but had never entertained the thought I'd break 100 minutes in the 10 miler until about mile 8. It's great, but it's hard to celebrate a great season without acknowledging that it's unlikely that I'll have such a great season next year. Or the year after.
I know, I KNOW that I have the potential to run faster, run farther. And yes, the marathon is always in the back of my mind. It took everything I had to squeeze in the training for the 10 miler, I just don't know how, with two little kids and a full time job, I could ever devote the time to training for another marathon. Yes, I did it once. But my work schedule then allowed ample time for weekday runs, The Supportive Husband was just starting his business and not nearly at the capacity he is now, I had just one child who slept all the time.
It's overwhelming to think about the kind of life I would have to lead to even begin to live up to my potential as an athlete.
So for now, I won't. For now, I'll rest on my laurels, wear all my medals at once, and sleep in on Saturdays. And when the fall rolls around, I'll take it one day at a time, one run at a time, one step at a time. When I was training for the marathon, my mantra was "one foot in front of the other." I can do that.
I just took three whole weeks off of running. I wasn't sedentary - I rode bikes with my 5 year old, walked on the beach, lifted my 2 year old like a dumbbell, hossed both kids during swim lessons.
And when I finally went for a run again, it felt like home.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Race Report - Park to Park Half
To say I've been unmotivated to train since the 10 miler is an understatement. I slogged through the last five weeks halfheartedly. I didn't even do the 11 miler on my program - it was pouring rain that day, so I did five that day, and five the next, and figured that was close enough. I did just enough to feel like I wouldn't totally bonk today. My main goal was to beat my previous PR of 2:29 and change. My realistic but gonna have to work for it goal was 10:30/mi. My realistic but really gonna have to work hard and race smart goal was 2:15, about 10:15/mi.
Yesterday was a crazy day, and certainly not the kind of day I'd like to have before a race. I didn't hydrate enough, I didn't rest enough, and because I needed to watch footage of the Royal Wedding, that I missed because of my crazy day, I stayed up too late.
But once I dragged myself out of bed this morning, I was in a surprisingly good mood this morning, and was ready to go. It was chilly, and I waited until the last possible second to put my long sleeved shirt into my drop bag which went into the official bag drop vehicle, a volunteer's Volvo wagon.
The national anthem was sung, and we were off. Unfortunately, the first few hundred yards were through grass that was sopping wet from dew. So I was cold and wet starting off. It took a good couple of miles to shake the chill, but the sun soon topped the trees. The course rolled through farmland, with some truly spectacular mountain views. I had a good rhythm going.
One of the great things about a small race is that people are so friendly and willing to talk to you. I had nice chats with some women, and we leapfrogged back and forth most of the race. I was concerned about going too fast too early, so I did my best to take it easy in the first half.
Around Mile 6, one of the volunteers shouted "you've got a mile downhill around the bend!" and I used that downhill for all it was worth, running my fastest mile of the race in 9:44. I knew there was a lot of uphill in the later miles, so I was glad to have some time in the bank.
At mile 10, I was pretty much toast. It was clear that I didn't have the training to really finish strong, especially when a strong headwind started blowing hard, just as we entered the most uphill portion of the course. I kept a pretty steady pace, though, and I crossed the finish in 2:13:56 - more than a minute faster than my goal, and more than 15 minutes faster than my previous PR! Not bad for feeling kind of half-assed about the whole thing.
Since it was point to point, I had to wait for the shuttle bus, and then endure a 15 minute ride back to the start while my tummy started complaining. I'm not sure why I'm having awful tummy troubles after races these days - I am off gatorade, and still having problems within 30 minutes of stopping running. Maybe my old standby recovery drink, chocolate milk, isn't such a hot idea any more. I'll go with soy next time around.
So what's next? I don't know! For the first time since last June, I have no races on the horizon. I'm planning on reclaiming my Saturday mornings for a while, hanging out at the pool, going to yoga, and otherwise having a lazyish summer. I'll still run, but only as the spirit moves me. I'm looking forward to coming back in the fall, ready to do it all again. Blog entries will be light to nonexistant on this semihiatus, but don't delete me from your Google reader. I'll be back in fine form soon enough.
Yesterday was a crazy day, and certainly not the kind of day I'd like to have before a race. I didn't hydrate enough, I didn't rest enough, and because I needed to watch footage of the Royal Wedding, that I missed because of my crazy day, I stayed up too late.
But once I dragged myself out of bed this morning, I was in a surprisingly good mood this morning, and was ready to go. It was chilly, and I waited until the last possible second to put my long sleeved shirt into my drop bag which went into the official bag drop vehicle, a volunteer's Volvo wagon.
The national anthem was sung, and we were off. Unfortunately, the first few hundred yards were through grass that was sopping wet from dew. So I was cold and wet starting off. It took a good couple of miles to shake the chill, but the sun soon topped the trees. The course rolled through farmland, with some truly spectacular mountain views. I had a good rhythm going.
One of the great things about a small race is that people are so friendly and willing to talk to you. I had nice chats with some women, and we leapfrogged back and forth most of the race. I was concerned about going too fast too early, so I did my best to take it easy in the first half.
Around Mile 6, one of the volunteers shouted "you've got a mile downhill around the bend!" and I used that downhill for all it was worth, running my fastest mile of the race in 9:44. I knew there was a lot of uphill in the later miles, so I was glad to have some time in the bank.
At mile 10, I was pretty much toast. It was clear that I didn't have the training to really finish strong, especially when a strong headwind started blowing hard, just as we entered the most uphill portion of the course. I kept a pretty steady pace, though, and I crossed the finish in 2:13:56 - more than a minute faster than my goal, and more than 15 minutes faster than my previous PR! Not bad for feeling kind of half-assed about the whole thing.
Since it was point to point, I had to wait for the shuttle bus, and then endure a 15 minute ride back to the start while my tummy started complaining. I'm not sure why I'm having awful tummy troubles after races these days - I am off gatorade, and still having problems within 30 minutes of stopping running. Maybe my old standby recovery drink, chocolate milk, isn't such a hot idea any more. I'll go with soy next time around.
So what's next? I don't know! For the first time since last June, I have no races on the horizon. I'm planning on reclaiming my Saturday mornings for a while, hanging out at the pool, going to yoga, and otherwise having a lazyish summer. I'll still run, but only as the spirit moves me. I'm looking forward to coming back in the fall, ready to do it all again. Blog entries will be light to nonexistant on this semihiatus, but don't delete me from your Google reader. I'll be back in fine form soon enough.
Friday, April 22, 2011
One Shot
As I'm writing this, the rain is tapping on the roof. More rain is expected tomorrow - my last long run before the half marathon that will mark the end of this training season. The last several months have been a constant battle to motivate myself, getting up at 6am in the dark during the winter, putting on yaktrax, miles upon miles on the hated treadmill. So many times I wanted to skip just one workout, sleep in on a Saturday just once instead of meeting up for a long run. Last Saturday I ran in the pouring rain, and tomorrow looks to be more of the same. Yesterday I met a bear a half mile in to my run, but rather than flee to the safety of my car, I picked a new route and did the miles. That's not to say I've been perfect, but I have rarely missed a day, and most days I even did my scheduled mileage.
Why do I do it? Missing one workout is not a big deal. Is it?
On my iPod, as many runners do, I have the song Lose Yourself by Eminem. I rarely run with headphones, except when I'm on the treadmill. I can't face a treadmill workout without them. And I always play this song. The opening lines are:
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
That one shot, that one opportunity isn't the big race. Every workout, every run is its own shot. You can't have success on the big day without treating each and every run like that one day, one run, one mile, one step is the most important you've ever run.
I post occasionally about junk miles, but the truth is that those are the most important. You can't run big without starting small. All those tiny pieces build your body and mind, and missing even one means that you didn't fulfill your potential. Even when it's cold, rainy, dark, snowy, treadmill.
So tomorrow morning I'm going to get up in the cold rain and go run.
Feet fail me not this may be the only opportunity that I got
Why do I do it? Missing one workout is not a big deal. Is it?
On my iPod, as many runners do, I have the song Lose Yourself by Eminem. I rarely run with headphones, except when I'm on the treadmill. I can't face a treadmill workout without them. And I always play this song. The opening lines are:
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
That one shot, that one opportunity isn't the big race. Every workout, every run is its own shot. You can't have success on the big day without treating each and every run like that one day, one run, one mile, one step is the most important you've ever run.
I post occasionally about junk miles, but the truth is that those are the most important. You can't run big without starting small. All those tiny pieces build your body and mind, and missing even one means that you didn't fulfill your potential. Even when it's cold, rainy, dark, snowy, treadmill.
So tomorrow morning I'm going to get up in the cold rain and go run.
Feet fail me not this may be the only opportunity that I got
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Grin and Bear It
I went for another trail run on this perfect, perfect day. This time I brought water, and had thoroughly plotted my route ahead of time, so there was no chance of getting lost. I headed up the fire trail, aiming to do a tough climb with a more gentle downhill, totaling about 2 miles, with maybe a .5 mi spur on an intersecting trail.
Last time, I got less than .5 mi up this same trail when I got whupped by the climb (it is seriously steep, even by foothills standards) and decided that I must be on the wrong trail and turned around. This time, I knew for sure that if I stuck it out for another .1 or so, I'd have a nice level run for a bit, and then a more gradual downhill.
As I was in the steepest part and struggling a little to keep running and not slow to an actual walk, I turned a sharp corner and there was a bear!! We weren't more than 15 feet from each other. This isn't the first time I've come across a bear while running (it's the third, see this post for my first sighting, and I don't think I blogged about the second), and since we live in a stone's throw from a national park where we have occasionally seen them while hiking or driving, they're not uncommon. But for whatever stupid reason, I had forgotten to put my RoadID back on my shoe, and I'd left my cellphone in the car and I was by myself, so if that bear was going to get me, it could be who knows how long before anyone found me.
Being mauled is kind of a phobia of mine, though I even hesitate to call it a phobia, because shouldn't one be scared of being mauled? It's not like my phobia of mangoes, which despite the oil in their skin being distantly related to poison ivy is pretty much irrational. No, when you live in bear country, you need to have a healthy respect for them, even though in all my 36 years here, I've never heard of anyone having any problems with bears more significant than the bears destroying garbage cans and bird feeders.
As it was my closest sighting while running, it also seemed the largest, though it's quite possible it actually was the largest of the three since the second one was a cub. My rational mind knew he meant me no harm, and was just meandering about, enjoying the nice weather and snuffling around for whatever it is that bears eat in early spring. Grubs? Rodents? And I didn't have any food on me. So of course, I screamed like a little girl, shouted "OH FUCK!" as loud as I could, turned around and high tailed it back down the trail. The bear, of course, said "WHUMPF!" and turned around and high tailed it back up the trail.
Not wanting to re-encounter the bear, I ran down the hill, and to a different trail which is in sight of the parking lot and fishing docks, where I had the pleasure of seeing fresh bear tracks in the mud. I finally decided not to tempt fate, and tried to head back to the car on the trail closest to the water and the people, but it got narrow enough that the poison ivy was closing in on it, so I just bailed entirely, and committed to getting my feet wet crossing the spillway back to the road.
As time and distance goes, it was pretty much a bust, but my POE was off the charts, and I'm pretty sure I got an awesome, adrenaline induced cardio workout, so I'll take it. Bear and poison ivy and wet feet were still better than knocking around on the treadmill.
Last time, I got less than .5 mi up this same trail when I got whupped by the climb (it is seriously steep, even by foothills standards) and decided that I must be on the wrong trail and turned around. This time, I knew for sure that if I stuck it out for another .1 or so, I'd have a nice level run for a bit, and then a more gradual downhill.
As I was in the steepest part and struggling a little to keep running and not slow to an actual walk, I turned a sharp corner and there was a bear!! We weren't more than 15 feet from each other. This isn't the first time I've come across a bear while running (it's the third, see this post for my first sighting, and I don't think I blogged about the second), and since we live in a stone's throw from a national park where we have occasionally seen them while hiking or driving, they're not uncommon. But for whatever stupid reason, I had forgotten to put my RoadID back on my shoe, and I'd left my cellphone in the car and I was by myself, so if that bear was going to get me, it could be who knows how long before anyone found me.
Being mauled is kind of a phobia of mine, though I even hesitate to call it a phobia, because shouldn't one be scared of being mauled? It's not like my phobia of mangoes, which despite the oil in their skin being distantly related to poison ivy is pretty much irrational. No, when you live in bear country, you need to have a healthy respect for them, even though in all my 36 years here, I've never heard of anyone having any problems with bears more significant than the bears destroying garbage cans and bird feeders.
As it was my closest sighting while running, it also seemed the largest, though it's quite possible it actually was the largest of the three since the second one was a cub. My rational mind knew he meant me no harm, and was just meandering about, enjoying the nice weather and snuffling around for whatever it is that bears eat in early spring. Grubs? Rodents? And I didn't have any food on me. So of course, I screamed like a little girl, shouted "OH FUCK!" as loud as I could, turned around and high tailed it back down the trail. The bear, of course, said "WHUMPF!" and turned around and high tailed it back up the trail.
Not wanting to re-encounter the bear, I ran down the hill, and to a different trail which is in sight of the parking lot and fishing docks, where I had the pleasure of seeing fresh bear tracks in the mud. I finally decided not to tempt fate, and tried to head back to the car on the trail closest to the water and the people, but it got narrow enough that the poison ivy was closing in on it, so I just bailed entirely, and committed to getting my feet wet crossing the spillway back to the road.
As time and distance goes, it was pretty much a bust, but my POE was off the charts, and I'm pretty sure I got an awesome, adrenaline induced cardio workout, so I'll take it. Bear and poison ivy and wet feet were still better than knocking around on the treadmill.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Hitting the trails
It has been a long time since I've done any trail running more trail-y than a fire road. All the stars aligned today, and I hit the park near my house to test the waters. The park consists of a small lake with a beach open for swimming in the summer, a playground, and a picnic area nestled into a valley, and a network of trails that go up and over and around the mountains that ring the little valley. The Supportive Husband and I have taken the kids hiking there many times, and I decided to take one of the longer trails for my run today.
I had never been on that particular trail before, missed the sign for it, convinced myself I was on a different trail, so backtracked after a half mile and returned to the parking lot. I hopped on a different trail, met up with the trail I had meant to be on the whole time, then decided at the spur of the moment to take an intersecting trail that eventually met up with one of the trails we take the kids on. I found it with no trouble this time, and by the time I was back at the car for good, I'd logged just over three miles at a blistering 14 min/mile pace.
It took me quite a while to get into a good groove. I'm used to running being so thoughtless and automatic. It was a whole different experience to have to mindfully place every footfall. I had to cross streams, tiptoe over root systems, avoid loose rocks, climb mountains, descend mountains, navigate switchbacks, and pick myself up after losing my footing on a steep, leaf-covered goat path. It was oh so gentle on my feet and joints, but now all kinds of previously dormant muscles are reintroducing themselves to me. Who knew that just a little change in what was underfoot could make such a difference in my running to both my mind and body.
It was a great break for my mind to have to concentrate on all those other things. I don't think I looked at my watch a single time until the parking lot was in sight. When I wasn't busy placing my feet, I was busy listening to woodpeckers and admiring the view from the backside of the mountain.
What great timing for this run - I've been feeling post-race malaise and lack of motivation since the 10 Miler, and I'd been regretting signing up for the half at the end of the month. I'd been wanting to just bag it, to run when the mood struck rather than when my program dictated, and spend my weekends just hanging out with the kids. Now, I know I can put in the miles for the next few weeks until the race, as long as I've got a few trails runs as a reward.
I had never been on that particular trail before, missed the sign for it, convinced myself I was on a different trail, so backtracked after a half mile and returned to the parking lot. I hopped on a different trail, met up with the trail I had meant to be on the whole time, then decided at the spur of the moment to take an intersecting trail that eventually met up with one of the trails we take the kids on. I found it with no trouble this time, and by the time I was back at the car for good, I'd logged just over three miles at a blistering 14 min/mile pace.
It took me quite a while to get into a good groove. I'm used to running being so thoughtless and automatic. It was a whole different experience to have to mindfully place every footfall. I had to cross streams, tiptoe over root systems, avoid loose rocks, climb mountains, descend mountains, navigate switchbacks, and pick myself up after losing my footing on a steep, leaf-covered goat path. It was oh so gentle on my feet and joints, but now all kinds of previously dormant muscles are reintroducing themselves to me. Who knew that just a little change in what was underfoot could make such a difference in my running to both my mind and body.
It was a great break for my mind to have to concentrate on all those other things. I don't think I looked at my watch a single time until the parking lot was in sight. When I wasn't busy placing my feet, I was busy listening to woodpeckers and admiring the view from the backside of the mountain.
What great timing for this run - I've been feeling post-race malaise and lack of motivation since the 10 Miler, and I'd been regretting signing up for the half at the end of the month. I'd been wanting to just bag it, to run when the mood struck rather than when my program dictated, and spend my weekends just hanging out with the kids. Now, I know I can put in the miles for the next few weeks until the race, as long as I've got a few trails runs as a reward.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Race report - Cville 10 Miler
Record breaking freakout this week. Clearly, that works for me.
The 10 Miler started extra early this year, due to conflicts with baseball, softball, and lacrosse games that take place in the same area as the start/finish and whose spectators need the roads and parking lots. So it was pretty disorienting to arrive and warm up in the pitch black. I met up with my crew, used the ladies room (it was actually the men's room, but the ladies had taken it over, and only the most courageous of men braved the urinals in there), and fiddled with my layers. It had been forecast to be in the low-mid 30's, but the thermometer on my car read 40 when I pulled in, so I took my chances and went with a short sleeve shirt over long sleeves, ear warmer, and no gloves.
We lined up waaaaaay in the back. And finally, the crowd started to move. My nervous energy was peaking, and it was good to be lined up in the back where I couldn't go out too fast if I tried. I crossed the first half mile in 6 minutes. I picked up the pace a little, and did the first mile in 11:00 flat. I'll admit, it freaked me out to be 45 seconds off my goal pace, but I knew that I could leverage the downhills to make it up.
And leverage I did! I know the course so well now, I know where every turn, every pothole, every downhill is. I can anticipate them, and get ready to turn on the speed. My first chance was around the back side of the stadium, and I surprised myself how fast I was going downhill. I surprised myself even more on the uphill, where I was passing every single person I came to. I didn't even feel like I was working that hard - I was taking Coach Mark's advice and not pushing myself uphill.
About this time, I came across one of the women I ran with occasionally during training. We ran together for a bit, and then I asked her what her goal for today was. She hemmed and hawed about just running to feel good, and then said that when she ran a marathon a few years ago, it was at a 9min/mile pace. I told her about my 10:15 goal, and, as well she should, she pretty well ditched me after that.
Around the stadium, past the AFC, and then the right on McCormick for a long, relatively flat stretch. I knew that I could conserve some energy on this portion, because The Downhill was coming. The biggest, screamingest downhill comes at the end of mile 4/beginning of mile 5. I took full advantage of it. As full as I could, anyway. The crowd was pretty thick, and I had to bob and weave to pass people. I bobbed and weaved so much that I picked up an extra tenth of a mile, per my GPS.
Coming to the uphill at the downtown mall, approaching mile 5, I took a quick look at my watch and my pace chart and realized that I had picked up a lot of time on the downhill. I was well ahead of my 10:15 pace, crossing the halfway point at just a hair over 50 minutes! This was pretty exciting, but I knew the toughest parts of the course were yet to come.
There's great crowd support in the Lexington Ave neighborhood, and there was music and two unofficial but highly organized water stops, and even donut holes if you wanted them. I was in such a great mood that I just floated over the hills. Even knowing the tough hill by the graveyard was ahead didn't dampen my spirits. And then I floated up that hill, too.
Next thing I knew, I was on Water Street, starting the first in a series of tough, late race uphills. Mile 8 and the beginning of mile 9 are grueling. But I hardly felt it. I just put my head down, and up I went, passing people the whole way. Knowing that mile 10 was now a downhill, I knew the pain of 8 and 9 was only temporary.
One last gulp of water before the mile 9 turnaround on McCormick and I was home free. The new finish is spectacular. A long downhill, steep enough to let you open it up and make friends with gravity, but not so steep that you'll wreck your knees. Before I knew it, I was crossing Ivy, and I could see the finish ahead. I broke into a sprint. I did the last tenth of a mile at a 7:32 pace. I don't know where I found it, but it felt great.
Proof: me, just before the finish, sprinting like I've never sprinted before. I don't know what was up with the Comcast van. This is the only picture ever of me running that actually looks like I'm fast! (Thanks, Pete, for the great pic.)
Then in to the chute, hit my watch, and I was done! Coach Mark was taking pictures at the finish and I damn near knocked him over while deafening him with my screeching "I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR!!"
You heard me, readers. I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR.
Final chip time: 1:38:30, 9:51 pace. Just one second off my 8K pace, can you believe it?
I got my medal, chatted with friends, grabbed a bagel and an orange slice, and headed home, where I spent the next several hours feeling like I was going to vomit, but not minding because I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR.
The 10 Miler started extra early this year, due to conflicts with baseball, softball, and lacrosse games that take place in the same area as the start/finish and whose spectators need the roads and parking lots. So it was pretty disorienting to arrive and warm up in the pitch black. I met up with my crew, used the ladies room (it was actually the men's room, but the ladies had taken it over, and only the most courageous of men braved the urinals in there), and fiddled with my layers. It had been forecast to be in the low-mid 30's, but the thermometer on my car read 40 when I pulled in, so I took my chances and went with a short sleeve shirt over long sleeves, ear warmer, and no gloves.
We lined up waaaaaay in the back. And finally, the crowd started to move. My nervous energy was peaking, and it was good to be lined up in the back where I couldn't go out too fast if I tried. I crossed the first half mile in 6 minutes. I picked up the pace a little, and did the first mile in 11:00 flat. I'll admit, it freaked me out to be 45 seconds off my goal pace, but I knew that I could leverage the downhills to make it up.
And leverage I did! I know the course so well now, I know where every turn, every pothole, every downhill is. I can anticipate them, and get ready to turn on the speed. My first chance was around the back side of the stadium, and I surprised myself how fast I was going downhill. I surprised myself even more on the uphill, where I was passing every single person I came to. I didn't even feel like I was working that hard - I was taking Coach Mark's advice and not pushing myself uphill.
About this time, I came across one of the women I ran with occasionally during training. We ran together for a bit, and then I asked her what her goal for today was. She hemmed and hawed about just running to feel good, and then said that when she ran a marathon a few years ago, it was at a 9min/mile pace. I told her about my 10:15 goal, and, as well she should, she pretty well ditched me after that.
Around the stadium, past the AFC, and then the right on McCormick for a long, relatively flat stretch. I knew that I could conserve some energy on this portion, because The Downhill was coming. The biggest, screamingest downhill comes at the end of mile 4/beginning of mile 5. I took full advantage of it. As full as I could, anyway. The crowd was pretty thick, and I had to bob and weave to pass people. I bobbed and weaved so much that I picked up an extra tenth of a mile, per my GPS.
Coming to the uphill at the downtown mall, approaching mile 5, I took a quick look at my watch and my pace chart and realized that I had picked up a lot of time on the downhill. I was well ahead of my 10:15 pace, crossing the halfway point at just a hair over 50 minutes! This was pretty exciting, but I knew the toughest parts of the course were yet to come.
There's great crowd support in the Lexington Ave neighborhood, and there was music and two unofficial but highly organized water stops, and even donut holes if you wanted them. I was in such a great mood that I just floated over the hills. Even knowing the tough hill by the graveyard was ahead didn't dampen my spirits. And then I floated up that hill, too.
Next thing I knew, I was on Water Street, starting the first in a series of tough, late race uphills. Mile 8 and the beginning of mile 9 are grueling. But I hardly felt it. I just put my head down, and up I went, passing people the whole way. Knowing that mile 10 was now a downhill, I knew the pain of 8 and 9 was only temporary.
One last gulp of water before the mile 9 turnaround on McCormick and I was home free. The new finish is spectacular. A long downhill, steep enough to let you open it up and make friends with gravity, but not so steep that you'll wreck your knees. Before I knew it, I was crossing Ivy, and I could see the finish ahead. I broke into a sprint. I did the last tenth of a mile at a 7:32 pace. I don't know where I found it, but it felt great.
Proof: me, just before the finish, sprinting like I've never sprinted before. I don't know what was up with the Comcast van. This is the only picture ever of me running that actually looks like I'm fast! (Thanks, Pete, for the great pic.)
Then in to the chute, hit my watch, and I was done! Coach Mark was taking pictures at the finish and I damn near knocked him over while deafening him with my screeching "I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR!!"
You heard me, readers. I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR.
Final chip time: 1:38:30, 9:51 pace. Just one second off my 8K pace, can you believe it?
I got my medal, chatted with friends, grabbed a bagel and an orange slice, and headed home, where I spent the next several hours feeling like I was going to vomit, but not minding because I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Right on schedule
My pre-race freak week is proceeding swimmingly. Last night I had my pre-race nightmare, and it was a doozy. Not only was I late to the race, but it wasn't just a footrace, there were many Amazing Race style challenges along the course. One involved a maze through a Chinese restaurant kitchen. Since I had started so late, and I hadn't prepared for the challenges, I ended up with a DNF because I couldn't finish the course within the time limit. It was humiliating.
In real life, this has been a tough week to squeeze in the miles, so it's a good thing I'm officially tapering. I was able to run after work two days this week, one with Sami in the buggy. Today I had an all-day work thing, so I missed my usual Thursday run. I'm planning on doing an easy mile or so tomorrow to keep my legs moving. I'm very nervous about Saturday, but all that work over the winter is now hay in the barn, and truthfully not much I do this week could improve my performance.
And look! The weather forecast is amazing.
In real life, this has been a tough week to squeeze in the miles, so it's a good thing I'm officially tapering. I was able to run after work two days this week, one with Sami in the buggy. Today I had an all-day work thing, so I missed my usual Thursday run. I'm planning on doing an easy mile or so tomorrow to keep my legs moving. I'm very nervous about Saturday, but all that work over the winter is now hay in the barn, and truthfully not much I do this week could improve my performance.
And look! The weather forecast is amazing.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Freak week
My last long run before the 10 Miler was this Saturday. It went fine, 7 miles at a 10:40 pace. I felt pretty crappy the whole way, and did not feel like I was going that fast. I am just now getting over the chest cold that has given me a smoker's voice and deep, throaty cough for the past week or so. On my weekday runs, I was getting just warm enough to loosen everything up so that I felt pretty good by the end. On Saturday, I warmed up, felt good, but by the end was really, really feeling the congestion in my chest. I was good and whooped by the end.
Also, my foot was hurting. For a few miles, I was convinced that I was coming down with plantar fasciitis a week before the race. When I took off my shoe, I realized what the problem was. Thursday night, I got a number of mosquito bites on foot, three on my arch. I have an unusually strong reaction to mosquito bites, and by Saturday morning, they were so swollen that they looked like one giant welt, and of course every step was pounding on this welt. No wonder my foot hurt. Here's what they look like tonight:
(My foot doesn't realy look that weirdly elongated, it's the angle and the macro setting.)
Not so bad, but this is day five after the bites, when most normal humans wouldn't even have a mark. Saturday night, they were so itchy and painful that I actually took a Benadryl. I hate it - I only take Benadryl when I have no other options. The last one I took was when I had a bad case of hives about 7 years ago. I took a single child's meltaway, and spent 24 hours being groggy and sluggish. And my foot still itched.
So here I am, days away from the race, with an itchy, painful foot, the remnants of a cough and cold, and pumping my body full of performance-reducing drugs. Once the Benadryl wore off enough that I had a return of cognitive function, my pre-race freakout started. I think 5 days before race day is a new record for me.
I tried to silence the demons with a run after work tonight, but running in the heat freaked me out. I'm trying to embrace the anxiety, and harness it. I've got 10:15 on the brain, bad.
Also, my foot was hurting. For a few miles, I was convinced that I was coming down with plantar fasciitis a week before the race. When I took off my shoe, I realized what the problem was. Thursday night, I got a number of mosquito bites on foot, three on my arch. I have an unusually strong reaction to mosquito bites, and by Saturday morning, they were so swollen that they looked like one giant welt, and of course every step was pounding on this welt. No wonder my foot hurt. Here's what they look like tonight:
(My foot doesn't realy look that weirdly elongated, it's the angle and the macro setting.)
Not so bad, but this is day five after the bites, when most normal humans wouldn't even have a mark. Saturday night, they were so itchy and painful that I actually took a Benadryl. I hate it - I only take Benadryl when I have no other options. The last one I took was when I had a bad case of hives about 7 years ago. I took a single child's meltaway, and spent 24 hours being groggy and sluggish. And my foot still itched.
So here I am, days away from the race, with an itchy, painful foot, the remnants of a cough and cold, and pumping my body full of performance-reducing drugs. Once the Benadryl wore off enough that I had a return of cognitive function, my pre-race freakout started. I think 5 days before race day is a new record for me.
I tried to silence the demons with a run after work tonight, but running in the heat freaked me out. I'm trying to embrace the anxiety, and harness it. I've got 10:15 on the brain, bad.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
tune up - MJ8K race report
I didn't really have my pre-race freakout, Sami took care of that for me, having her first ever (and hopefully last) night terror night before last. If you have never experienced this, it is truly unsettling. Your toddler screams and cries in her sleep, is unconsolable, and there's nothing you can do but wait it out. So I didn't come in to the race as rested as I would have liked. Add to that the cold that I've been fighting working its way down in to my chest, and I was basically treating this run like a training run.
But when I got there, I felt pretty good. I warmed up for a mile, and the congestion started clearing up. The weather was great, chilly, but not super cold. I saw lots of friends, and was in a great mood by the time the crowd finally started moving. I wasn't exactly sure where the start line was (I hit my watch at the balloon arch, but I was almost .1mi short at the end, so I'm pretty sure the start was farther back).
I started running with a friend, and we chatted and braced ourselves for the hills ahead. The hill in Lexington, near the 1 mi mark was pretty killer, and I was glad I had warmed up before the race. The course twists and turns, and I'm never exactly sure of the route ahead, but I did know that after a lazy downhill down the Mall, there was that killer hill up McIntire. I put my head down, shortened my stride, pumped my arms, and ran up that hill. I looked up at the top, and realized I'd left my friend behind.
As you might imagine, there's a big downhill after this big uphill, and I took full advantage of it, and flew down. Some twists and turns, and then another massive, killer uphill. This hill is my nemesis, and I don't think I've ever run the whole thing. It is long and it is steep. And I RAN up that long and steep hill.
I took a well deserved gulp of water at mile 4, just on the other side of the hill, and set my sights on the finish. I ended up very close behind another runner as we made the final turn before the chute, and I was thankful that she kicked it in to high gear, too so that I didn't have to either awkwardly pass her or feel like I could be finishing harder.
And that was it! I was done, and my watch said 47:57. Truthfully, I was probably about 30 seconds slower than that, since I hit start after I crossed the actual start. But my overall pace on 9:47 and my freakin' awesome negative splits are right on the money. I can't believe with the two most killer hills in the second half of the race that each mile was faster than the next.
(UPDATE: Official gun time was 48:46, 9:50 pace; no chips at this race, but I figure it took about 30 sec to cross the start.)
I've been on a great streak of meeting goals and setting PR's, and I hope I can keep it up for the 10 miler in two weeks. Between now and then, I need to seriously consider my goals for the race. My goal of 10:30/mile might be too conservative. I've trained so hard, and had a magically wonderful snow- and illness-free winter that it would be a shame to not try for something a little faster. I have never had a streak of more consistent training, and with two little kids, I'm not likely to again any time soon. Based on my 5K's, my 2 mile time trial, and now today's race, I think that 10:15/mile is definitely within my reach.
To put it in perspective, my previous PR's in both the MJ8K and the 10 miler were in 2007. The 8K PR was 10:43/mi - almost a minute/mile slower than I ran today. My 10 miler PR a few weeks later was 11:10/mi.
It's terrifying to set a goal of 10:15, knowing that I might not reach it, especially knowing that I'd be really, really close. After meeting or beating all my major goals this season, I would be crestfallen not to meet the goal I'd been working for all this time. But what's the point of setting a safe goal? Would the woman who ran a marathon while still nursing a 10 month old set a safe goal?
Go big, or go home.
10:15, here I come.
But when I got there, I felt pretty good. I warmed up for a mile, and the congestion started clearing up. The weather was great, chilly, but not super cold. I saw lots of friends, and was in a great mood by the time the crowd finally started moving. I wasn't exactly sure where the start line was (I hit my watch at the balloon arch, but I was almost .1mi short at the end, so I'm pretty sure the start was farther back).
I started running with a friend, and we chatted and braced ourselves for the hills ahead. The hill in Lexington, near the 1 mi mark was pretty killer, and I was glad I had warmed up before the race. The course twists and turns, and I'm never exactly sure of the route ahead, but I did know that after a lazy downhill down the Mall, there was that killer hill up McIntire. I put my head down, shortened my stride, pumped my arms, and ran up that hill. I looked up at the top, and realized I'd left my friend behind.
As you might imagine, there's a big downhill after this big uphill, and I took full advantage of it, and flew down. Some twists and turns, and then another massive, killer uphill. This hill is my nemesis, and I don't think I've ever run the whole thing. It is long and it is steep. And I RAN up that long and steep hill.
I took a well deserved gulp of water at mile 4, just on the other side of the hill, and set my sights on the finish. I ended up very close behind another runner as we made the final turn before the chute, and I was thankful that she kicked it in to high gear, too so that I didn't have to either awkwardly pass her or feel like I could be finishing harder.
And that was it! I was done, and my watch said 47:57. Truthfully, I was probably about 30 seconds slower than that, since I hit start after I crossed the actual start. But my overall pace on 9:47 and my freakin' awesome negative splits are right on the money. I can't believe with the two most killer hills in the second half of the race that each mile was faster than the next.
(UPDATE: Official gun time was 48:46, 9:50 pace; no chips at this race, but I figure it took about 30 sec to cross the start.)
I've been on a great streak of meeting goals and setting PR's, and I hope I can keep it up for the 10 miler in two weeks. Between now and then, I need to seriously consider my goals for the race. My goal of 10:30/mile might be too conservative. I've trained so hard, and had a magically wonderful snow- and illness-free winter that it would be a shame to not try for something a little faster. I have never had a streak of more consistent training, and with two little kids, I'm not likely to again any time soon. Based on my 5K's, my 2 mile time trial, and now today's race, I think that 10:15/mile is definitely within my reach.
To put it in perspective, my previous PR's in both the MJ8K and the 10 miler were in 2007. The 8K PR was 10:43/mi - almost a minute/mile slower than I ran today. My 10 miler PR a few weeks later was 11:10/mi.
It's terrifying to set a goal of 10:15, knowing that I might not reach it, especially knowing that I'd be really, really close. After meeting or beating all my major goals this season, I would be crestfallen not to meet the goal I'd been working for all this time. But what's the point of setting a safe goal? Would the woman who ran a marathon while still nursing a 10 month old set a safe goal?
Go big, or go home.
10:15, here I come.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
it's all downhill from here
12 mile run this morning. 11:13/mi, which is acceptable for a training run, but almost a minute slower than I hope to run the race. The good news is that I got to try out the new finish, and boy is it ever fast! The last mile of the usual course takes you through a series of rolling hills that are murder on every part of your body including your psyche after 9 prior hilly miles. The new last mile takes you down, down, down, down, and then down a little farther.
Today's run I had textbook negative splits for about the first half, and then my splits started creeping back up. Long story short, I took gatorade again (will I never learn?) and at mile 10, even though my legs, heart, and lungs felt fine, I had to screech to a halt and walk for about 5 minutes to avoid unpleasant consequences. Ida walked with me, and we were running again less than a half mile later, but I was not feeling my best. Still, we hit that last mile and without even trying, did it in 9:30.
9:30, people! If I can do that whilst trying not to vomit (or, um, anything else, ahem), at mile 12, then surely I can do that or better at mile 10, with no gatorade on board. Oooooh, I am so liking this. I'm really starting to think hard about my race strategy. I want to run 1:45, which is a 10:30 pace. I think I can actually do significantly faster than that, but I don't want to blow my whole race by going out too fast, and forgetting about the hills in miles 7 and 8 which are killer. But knowing that I've got a super fast last mile, that will allow me to comfortably keep it slow in the beginning, knowing that I can make up a minute or more at the end.
Only two more Saturday runs before the race! Both are 7 miles - the MJH8K plus warmup/cooldown next weekend, and just a straight 7 the week before the race. The past couple of weeks have not been good for me, training wise - I've traveled twice, I've been fighting a cold, and both The Supportive Husband and the kids have been sick. This coming week especially I really want to focus on getting those weekday miles so that I can feel confident that I've prepared as well as can be for the 10 miler.
Today's run I had textbook negative splits for about the first half, and then my splits started creeping back up. Long story short, I took gatorade again (will I never learn?) and at mile 10, even though my legs, heart, and lungs felt fine, I had to screech to a halt and walk for about 5 minutes to avoid unpleasant consequences. Ida walked with me, and we were running again less than a half mile later, but I was not feeling my best. Still, we hit that last mile and without even trying, did it in 9:30.
9:30, people! If I can do that whilst trying not to vomit (or, um, anything else, ahem), at mile 12, then surely I can do that or better at mile 10, with no gatorade on board. Oooooh, I am so liking this. I'm really starting to think hard about my race strategy. I want to run 1:45, which is a 10:30 pace. I think I can actually do significantly faster than that, but I don't want to blow my whole race by going out too fast, and forgetting about the hills in miles 7 and 8 which are killer. But knowing that I've got a super fast last mile, that will allow me to comfortably keep it slow in the beginning, knowing that I can make up a minute or more at the end.
Only two more Saturday runs before the race! Both are 7 miles - the MJH8K plus warmup/cooldown next weekend, and just a straight 7 the week before the race. The past couple of weeks have not been good for me, training wise - I've traveled twice, I've been fighting a cold, and both The Supportive Husband and the kids have been sick. This coming week especially I really want to focus on getting those weekday miles so that I can feel confident that I've prepared as well as can be for the 10 miler.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
and one more thing
Speaking of challenges and victories, I ran a 5K on Saturday, and got another PR! I ran the two miles from my house to the start, and was holding back enough so that I'd have enough juice to get home, and lo and behold, despite the cold and the wind, and despite dying on the hills in the last mile, I beat my New Year's time by 9 seconds. Go me!
in pursuit of victory
I haven't been blogging much - my training is a little bit on autopilot. Nothing earth-shattering, no epiphanies happening on Saturday mornings. It's not very interesting to contemplate the same old same old.
I did go to the shop a week or two ago to adjust my program. I had two main concerns. First, I want to run a half-marathon at the end of April, and I needed to add on the appropriate recovery and training weeks after the race. Second, I'm having trouble getting my midweek mileage in. Six miles on a Wednesday just isn't going to happen. I've been trying to run more days, and many days I was waking up to run a few miles in the dark and cold, and then slogging out a few on the treadmill. Cynthia immediately unburdened me, and put X's through my 6 mile midweek runs. She told me that she didn't start training seriously until her youngest was 10. And it takes her a fraction of the time to run 6 miles. Apparently, the demands of parenting don't discriminate based on how many times you have won the Marine Corps Marathon. By the time Cynthia and I were gabbing about kids and parenting, Mark was able to join in.
Can I tell you how humbling and inspiring it is to have the full attention of two of the sport's greats? I'm barely even a middle of the pack runner, and at that moment, I felt like my training program was every bit as important as anyone with an outside chance of winning a major race. And you know what? It is. To Mark and to Cynthia. To me.
Running has the great gift of meeting you exactly where you are, yet always presenting a greater challenge, no matter your level. My goals may not be as speedy as as an elite athlete, but they are the goals of an athlete nonetheless. My 10:15 stretch goal pace for the 10 miler is no less significant to me than the eventual winners' will be to them. I'm proud to be part of a sport that has room for everyone, and room for everyone to grow, stretch, and be challenged.
I did go to the shop a week or two ago to adjust my program. I had two main concerns. First, I want to run a half-marathon at the end of April, and I needed to add on the appropriate recovery and training weeks after the race. Second, I'm having trouble getting my midweek mileage in. Six miles on a Wednesday just isn't going to happen. I've been trying to run more days, and many days I was waking up to run a few miles in the dark and cold, and then slogging out a few on the treadmill. Cynthia immediately unburdened me, and put X's through my 6 mile midweek runs. She told me that she didn't start training seriously until her youngest was 10. And it takes her a fraction of the time to run 6 miles. Apparently, the demands of parenting don't discriminate based on how many times you have won the Marine Corps Marathon. By the time Cynthia and I were gabbing about kids and parenting, Mark was able to join in.
Can I tell you how humbling and inspiring it is to have the full attention of two of the sport's greats? I'm barely even a middle of the pack runner, and at that moment, I felt like my training program was every bit as important as anyone with an outside chance of winning a major race. And you know what? It is. To Mark and to Cynthia. To me.
Running has the great gift of meeting you exactly where you are, yet always presenting a greater challenge, no matter your level. My goals may not be as speedy as as an elite athlete, but they are the goals of an athlete nonetheless. My 10:15 stretch goal pace for the 10 miler is no less significant to me than the eventual winners' will be to them. I'm proud to be part of a sport that has room for everyone, and room for everyone to grow, stretch, and be challenged.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
It's not the heat, it's the humidity
"It's not the heat, it's the humidity."
That's what we say about our Virginia summers. There's a lot of truth to that statement, although even a dry 90 still feels pretty stinkin' hot to me. In the wintertime, it's not the cold, it's the wind.
This winter has been particularly cold. Not record-setting cold, but very long stretches of below-normal temps. It's pretty common to have 60 degree days during the winter. Just not this winter, it seems. On Tuesday it just about cracked 50, and I wore shorts and a t-shirt to run in. By yesterday it was back to the 30's, we got some snow, and today was cold again.
And windy.
In my particular microclimate, snugged up against the base of the Blue Ridge, we get some pretty serious winds. It's just relentlessly windy. When I popped out at lunchtime for a quick run, I just could NOT handle the wind. It wasn't even that bad. Often this winter, certain spots on my route where the wind is concentrated, I have to lean against it hard just to keep my footing. Today was nothing like that, but in the sunshine, I alternated between feeling warm, and then having the warm ripped right out of my body by an arctic blast.
My intention was to do the five miles on the program for today, and add in the hills I was supposed to do on Tuesday, but didn't get around to. I figured I'd do about a 1.5/2 mile warmup, do the hills for about another .5-1, then do a 2 mi cool down. It didn't shake out like that at all.
First, the cold and wind. So demoralizing. When I set out to train through the winter, I didn't foresee that I'd be training in ACTUAL winter, I figured I'd get our garden variety Virginia winter (see 60 degrees, above). Second, all that winter has kept me indoors a lot. I'm fighting a little SAD right now, and getting motivated is hard enough without feeling physically brittle. Third, I picked the wrong hill. Way too steep. My hill perception is all messed up (see base of the Blue Ridge above). And finally - speedwork AND distance? Am I nuts? Yeah, I am. There's a reason that Coach Mark puts the speedwork on the low mileage days.
Blah blah, aches and pains, blah blah, tired legs, blah blah, I did my hills, put my tail between my legs, and hobbled home.
That's what we say about our Virginia summers. There's a lot of truth to that statement, although even a dry 90 still feels pretty stinkin' hot to me. In the wintertime, it's not the cold, it's the wind.
This winter has been particularly cold. Not record-setting cold, but very long stretches of below-normal temps. It's pretty common to have 60 degree days during the winter. Just not this winter, it seems. On Tuesday it just about cracked 50, and I wore shorts and a t-shirt to run in. By yesterday it was back to the 30's, we got some snow, and today was cold again.
And windy.
In my particular microclimate, snugged up against the base of the Blue Ridge, we get some pretty serious winds. It's just relentlessly windy. When I popped out at lunchtime for a quick run, I just could NOT handle the wind. It wasn't even that bad. Often this winter, certain spots on my route where the wind is concentrated, I have to lean against it hard just to keep my footing. Today was nothing like that, but in the sunshine, I alternated between feeling warm, and then having the warm ripped right out of my body by an arctic blast.
My intention was to do the five miles on the program for today, and add in the hills I was supposed to do on Tuesday, but didn't get around to. I figured I'd do about a 1.5/2 mile warmup, do the hills for about another .5-1, then do a 2 mi cool down. It didn't shake out like that at all.
First, the cold and wind. So demoralizing. When I set out to train through the winter, I didn't foresee that I'd be training in ACTUAL winter, I figured I'd get our garden variety Virginia winter (see 60 degrees, above). Second, all that winter has kept me indoors a lot. I'm fighting a little SAD right now, and getting motivated is hard enough without feeling physically brittle. Third, I picked the wrong hill. Way too steep. My hill perception is all messed up (see base of the Blue Ridge above). And finally - speedwork AND distance? Am I nuts? Yeah, I am. There's a reason that Coach Mark puts the speedwork on the low mileage days.
Blah blah, aches and pains, blah blah, tired legs, blah blah, I did my hills, put my tail between my legs, and hobbled home.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Cool running
Make that freakin' freezin' running.
It was 18 degrees when I left my cozy house for the track for the two mile time trial. Mark couldn't get through his spiel fast enough - my teeth were chattering by the time we headed out for our warmup. My usual running buddy was there, which was a happy surprise, since recent events in her personal life had pretty much taken running off the table for a while. We chatted and chattered our way through the two mile warmup, getting caught up.
Back at the track, we did skips and strides to further warm up, and I tried my best to coherently formulate my strategy. It came as a big surprise to me during marathon training that I love track workouts. They really speak to my inner math nerd, and focus my brain in a way that road and trail runs simply can't. All morning the numbers 2:26, 9:45, and 19:30 were running through my head - the lap, mile, and two mile paces that would translate to a 10:30 10 mile pace. With the extreme cold, I didn't think I had much chance of hitting them without a struggle. Plus, rather than resting last night, I went to a girls' night out at the home of fellow blogger Jen on the Edge. And of course, I wanted to look good, so I wore my highest heels, and then I was feeling shy, so I had to have a glass or so of wine. Not my usual pre-race regimin by a long shot!
My legs were so cold when we actually started the time trial that I really had very little sense of how fast or slow I was running, so I paid careful attention to my watch. I actually hauled out the old Timex for this, though I kept my Garmin on my other arm to track my totals just in case. The first 100 went by in about 40 seconds. Not bad. At 200 I was around 1:15, right on target to come in a little slower than 2:26 for the first lap. My numb legs were hitting their groove, and if I could just keep a lid on my speed the first few laps, I knew I'd cruise to 19:30. The first seven laps went like this:
2:28
2:27
2:25
2:24
2:22
2:21
2:20
Hello, textbook, it's me. I've been a good girl and studied hard. And my last lap was, wait for it....
2:02
For a grand total of 18:53.
YEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! My only regret is that I didn't push just a little harder on lap 7, I really had a lot of gas left in the tank at the end of the two miles. But hey, I'll take a 9:27 pace. My New Year's Day 5K 9:29 pace wasn't a fluke.
I can't begin to describe the utter satisfaction that comes with logging my fastest times EVER at the ripe old age of 36, after having kids. And to be on the track this morning, a really fine collegiate facility that has seen some gifted athletes, to be pounding away on that surface makes me feel like I'm just beginning to scratch the surface of what my body can do.
It was 18 degrees when I left my cozy house for the track for the two mile time trial. Mark couldn't get through his spiel fast enough - my teeth were chattering by the time we headed out for our warmup. My usual running buddy was there, which was a happy surprise, since recent events in her personal life had pretty much taken running off the table for a while. We chatted and chattered our way through the two mile warmup, getting caught up.
Back at the track, we did skips and strides to further warm up, and I tried my best to coherently formulate my strategy. It came as a big surprise to me during marathon training that I love track workouts. They really speak to my inner math nerd, and focus my brain in a way that road and trail runs simply can't. All morning the numbers 2:26, 9:45, and 19:30 were running through my head - the lap, mile, and two mile paces that would translate to a 10:30 10 mile pace. With the extreme cold, I didn't think I had much chance of hitting them without a struggle. Plus, rather than resting last night, I went to a girls' night out at the home of fellow blogger Jen on the Edge. And of course, I wanted to look good, so I wore my highest heels, and then I was feeling shy, so I had to have a glass or so of wine. Not my usual pre-race regimin by a long shot!
My legs were so cold when we actually started the time trial that I really had very little sense of how fast or slow I was running, so I paid careful attention to my watch. I actually hauled out the old Timex for this, though I kept my Garmin on my other arm to track my totals just in case. The first 100 went by in about 40 seconds. Not bad. At 200 I was around 1:15, right on target to come in a little slower than 2:26 for the first lap. My numb legs were hitting their groove, and if I could just keep a lid on my speed the first few laps, I knew I'd cruise to 19:30. The first seven laps went like this:
2:28
2:27
2:25
2:24
2:22
2:21
2:20
Hello, textbook, it's me. I've been a good girl and studied hard. And my last lap was, wait for it....
2:02
For a grand total of 18:53.
YEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! My only regret is that I didn't push just a little harder on lap 7, I really had a lot of gas left in the tank at the end of the two miles. But hey, I'll take a 9:27 pace. My New Year's Day 5K 9:29 pace wasn't a fluke.
I can't begin to describe the utter satisfaction that comes with logging my fastest times EVER at the ripe old age of 36, after having kids. And to be on the track this morning, a really fine collegiate facility that has seen some gifted athletes, to be pounding away on that surface makes me feel like I'm just beginning to scratch the surface of what my body can do.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Resolutions
I'm not big on resolutions. Being inspired to make changes in my life doesn't typically happen on an arbitrary day on my calendar. But in general, I hope that this year will bring a renewed dedication to my training, among other things. For me, this resolution began one July day when I got stressed and had a terrible run. No run before or since had been that bad. And while my training hasn't been everything I want it to be, I have hit some huge goals since then. I've PR'ed in 4 miles, 5K (twice), and 10K. I've done all my long runs for the 10 miler training program. I've been getting up long before dawn and strapping on my reflective vest to get in my miles. I've even, horror of horrors, logged some serious miles on the treadmill. Six months in to this resolution, I'm doing pretty good.
Fast forward to an icy January morning. I decided not to run at 6am in the dark because I was worried about not seeing any patches of ice left from the previous day's precipitation. So I got up at the usual time, and was walking down the driveway in broad daylight to my car when my feet slid out from under me, my bags went flying, I landed hard on my backside and hands, and I may or may not have shouted my favorite expletive. Once I got the wind back in me, I picked myself up and loaded up the kids for school and headed to work. As the morning went on, I got sore and stiff in all kinds of weird places, and could not get comfortable. So after work, I headed to the gym for some stretching and treadmill time.
And of course, it was packed with resolutioners. I am a HUGE advocate for personal fitness. I'm a believer in the power of physical activity. I think everyone should do it. But somehow, when unfamiliar faces start showing up at the gym and hogging the treadmills, I can't help but resent the presence of the unfit. It shouldn't make much of a difference to me - I haven't yet had to wait for any equipment, and truth be told I want my gym to keep its awesome satellite location 1.3 miles from my front steps, so I should welcome newcomers. But I've been through this before, and I know that most of them will fade away long before their 60 day trial membership is up. Maybe my resolution should be to help the resolutioners keep up the good work and fighting the good fight, and crowding my gym every day of the year.
So keep it up, resolutioners! I'll only resent you for a few more weeks, and then we can be friends, okay? But if you leave my gym and never come back, I'll resent you forever.
Fast forward to an icy January morning. I decided not to run at 6am in the dark because I was worried about not seeing any patches of ice left from the previous day's precipitation. So I got up at the usual time, and was walking down the driveway in broad daylight to my car when my feet slid out from under me, my bags went flying, I landed hard on my backside and hands, and I may or may not have shouted my favorite expletive. Once I got the wind back in me, I picked myself up and loaded up the kids for school and headed to work. As the morning went on, I got sore and stiff in all kinds of weird places, and could not get comfortable. So after work, I headed to the gym for some stretching and treadmill time.
And of course, it was packed with resolutioners. I am a HUGE advocate for personal fitness. I'm a believer in the power of physical activity. I think everyone should do it. But somehow, when unfamiliar faces start showing up at the gym and hogging the treadmills, I can't help but resent the presence of the unfit. It shouldn't make much of a difference to me - I haven't yet had to wait for any equipment, and truth be told I want my gym to keep its awesome satellite location 1.3 miles from my front steps, so I should welcome newcomers. But I've been through this before, and I know that most of them will fade away long before their 60 day trial membership is up. Maybe my resolution should be to help the resolutioners keep up the good work and fighting the good fight, and crowding my gym every day of the year.
So keep it up, resolutioners! I'll only resent you for a few more weeks, and then we can be friends, okay? But if you leave my gym and never come back, I'll resent you forever.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Happy New Year!
The New Years Day 5K was cancelled last year due to snow, so I feel like I've been saving up for this one since 2009. Today was my best shot at a sub-30 5K, after the Turkey Trot disaster.
Except I just wasn't feelin' it. An 11am race on NYD sounds awesome, but truthfully, it just means that I'm up with the kids by 7, and spend 4 hours waiting around to run, when I really want to get on with my day. It was rather dreary this morning, and by the time I was driving up Millington, I just felt unprepared and unmotivated. More than that, I didn't want to run unless I knew for sure that I'd break 30 minutes. I didn't want the disappointment again.
But I'd paid my money a month ago, and figured that I'd better just man up and do it.
Just before the start, I ran in to some women from the Saturday group, and my surly solo self begrudingly accepted a buddy. She kept me honest the first part of the race - it's hard to go out too fast when you're chatting about kids and wineries and whatnot. Without even breathing hard, we did about a 9:50 first mile. A little faster than I intended, but not out of the ballpark. The turnaround came up so fast it surprised me, and a glance at my watch showed less than 15 minutes!!
With a mile to go, I left my buddy behind, and switched gears. There's a long, gentle uphill in the last mile, and I wanted to have some gas in the tank and time in the bank before I hit it. And I did, in spades! I have never passed so many people in my life. Pick, pick, pick, everyone in front of me soon ended up behind. I was working, but I wasn't exhausted.
I turned the corner for the last tenth of a mile or so and could see the finish clock reading 28 something. Hell yeah. I could walk and still get a sub-30!
But I ran hard, and crossed the finish time at 29:24 by my watch. Even by the official time (I started way back in the pack), I was still well under 30 minutes.
I ran a 9:29 pace!! Much faster than I ever anticipated. And I felt awesome when I was done! I could have kept running that fast for another few miles at least.
What an awesome way to start the new year!
(For those of you keeping track at home, I had fabulous, textbook, negative splits! 9:52, 9:30, 9:14. Now THAT'S how you run a 5K!!!)
Except I just wasn't feelin' it. An 11am race on NYD sounds awesome, but truthfully, it just means that I'm up with the kids by 7, and spend 4 hours waiting around to run, when I really want to get on with my day. It was rather dreary this morning, and by the time I was driving up Millington, I just felt unprepared and unmotivated. More than that, I didn't want to run unless I knew for sure that I'd break 30 minutes. I didn't want the disappointment again.
But I'd paid my money a month ago, and figured that I'd better just man up and do it.
Just before the start, I ran in to some women from the Saturday group, and my surly solo self begrudingly accepted a buddy. She kept me honest the first part of the race - it's hard to go out too fast when you're chatting about kids and wineries and whatnot. Without even breathing hard, we did about a 9:50 first mile. A little faster than I intended, but not out of the ballpark. The turnaround came up so fast it surprised me, and a glance at my watch showed less than 15 minutes!!
With a mile to go, I left my buddy behind, and switched gears. There's a long, gentle uphill in the last mile, and I wanted to have some gas in the tank and time in the bank before I hit it. And I did, in spades! I have never passed so many people in my life. Pick, pick, pick, everyone in front of me soon ended up behind. I was working, but I wasn't exhausted.
I turned the corner for the last tenth of a mile or so and could see the finish clock reading 28 something. Hell yeah. I could walk and still get a sub-30!
But I ran hard, and crossed the finish time at 29:24 by my watch. Even by the official time (I started way back in the pack), I was still well under 30 minutes.
I ran a 9:29 pace!! Much faster than I ever anticipated. And I felt awesome when I was done! I could have kept running that fast for another few miles at least.
What an awesome way to start the new year!
(For those of you keeping track at home, I had fabulous, textbook, negative splits! 9:52, 9:30, 9:14. Now THAT'S how you run a 5K!!!)
Friday, December 24, 2010
Merry Christmas to all!
I've been dutifully training, despite the cold, wind, snow, dark, and more cold. The Saturday long run group was to take two weeks off, but at the last minute, the Saturday run got moved to Friday, Christmas Eve, so I got one more group run in before the end of the year. Next Saturday will be the New Year's Day 5K.
It was just a delightful run. I had a bad couple of weeks, training-wise, and a terrible day or two life-wise. Driving to the track this morning, I was in one of those "run or cry" moods.
I picked running.
Lo and behold, who should be our group captain this week but Coach Mark himself. He even ran a few miles with me and some other slowpokes - talk about a Christmas miracle. I wasn't fast today, and my hip was definitely crabby about all the cold weather, but I reached a level of zen in my run that I don't often find. I was running with three other women, and we chatted until we got to a hill, and then we'd all get quiet and chug along, and then we'd chat again.
All is right with the world this Christmas Eve. Wishing you joy and peace this holiday.
It was just a delightful run. I had a bad couple of weeks, training-wise, and a terrible day or two life-wise. Driving to the track this morning, I was in one of those "run or cry" moods.
I picked running.
Lo and behold, who should be our group captain this week but Coach Mark himself. He even ran a few miles with me and some other slowpokes - talk about a Christmas miracle. I wasn't fast today, and my hip was definitely crabby about all the cold weather, but I reached a level of zen in my run that I don't often find. I was running with three other women, and we chatted until we got to a hill, and then we'd all get quiet and chug along, and then we'd chat again.
All is right with the world this Christmas Eve. Wishing you joy and peace this holiday.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
fly the airplane, not the door
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.
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.
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.
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