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.

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.

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.

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!!!)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Race Report: Fall Classic 10K

It was every bit as cold as I had expected at the start. Luckily, I parked within sight of the start line, and just hung out in my car, jamming to my iPod until nature called. My heart sank when I realized that using the portajohns meant basically exposing myself to the chilly weather. No thank you! I snuck in to a nearby hotel and found an empty, warm restroom, with running water, soap, paper towels, and muzak. Awesome!

Once at the start, I bumped in to Jen of Jen on the Edge! Yay! She's a newbie runner, but is pretty badass as far as I'm concerned, because she walked there from her house (1.5 miles away!!) and her husband was going to come pick her up after the race on a tandem bike.

The race started with a sharp right turn and a hill. Chugga chugga. I kept a careful eye on my pace, and held back - I didn't want to run out of steam, because I knew a really big hill was coming in Mile 5.

After the uphill, it was mostly flat, and then a long downhill to the river. My first mile was about 10:30 - a little faster than I had intended, as I was shooting for 10:45's.

At the water stop at mile 2 (10:15 on the split), I took some gatorade, and headed down to the path by the river. I love this stretch. I have done a few training runs on it in the past, but since it's not near where I live, I don't come here nearly often enough. I noticed frost on the ground, and geese on the water, and just let my body do its thing while my mind doodled around. It was entirely pleasant, which was great, because after this lovely stretch I knew what was coming.

The 3 mile mark was somewhere along the path, and I hit it in 10:06. So that's what it's like to run on a flat course!! I was pretty sure that would be my fastest mile of the day.

And then happy time was over, and it was time to go up a huge hill. Oy. I used to live in that neighborhood, so I already knew what was coming. It was even steeper and longer than I remembered. The 4 mile mark was partway up the hill, and my split there was 10:17. I'll be honest, I think I was walking at that point. I must have really been flying on the flat part to squeak out a 10:17!!

The hill topped out, and it was back to mostly flat, and I reached mile 5 in 10:31, which was pretty good for me, considering that I had walked a little and was not feeling so hot at that particular moment. The good news was that I was through with the hardest part of the course!

I wound up all by myself for basically the last mile of the race. Which I quite enjoy, except I escaped the notice of the officer directing traffic at a busy intersection and had to wait quite a while before I could cross. Both he and the race volunteer apologized profusely for not stopping traffic sooner, but I told them quite honestly that I enjoyed the break.

And then, ZOOM. Downhill. Feeling good, lots of fuel still in the tank, and it was time to make it happen.

I hit mile 6 in a 10:05. That's right, people. Negative split. Can I get an AMEN!

Down the downtown mall, zigging and zagging around pedestrians, and across the finish.

Final chip time: 1:04:14/10:20 pace.

I did a little internet research and found my 10K PR to be 1:06:37/10:45 pace. This was during marathon training four years (and one kid) ago.

I smashed my PR. Second race in a row. I can't begin to describe how awesome it feels. I'm running faster now than I ever have, and I know I've got more in me. I spent most of today trying to slow myself down. For the first time ever, I feel that a sub-10min pace for the shorter distances (5K, 10K) is within reach. Could this be the year that I break 30 min in the 5K?

Pre-race freakout

I think I mostly keep a blog so that I have somewhere to vent during my pre-race freakout.

Vent 1. It is going to be very cold tomorrow morning. Until just a couple of weeks ago, I could hardly run at all during daylight hours because it was so hot. The temp at gun time is supposed to be 31 degrees. Fahrenheit. I have spent the last 30 minutes in a made scramble around the house trying to find a toque and some gloves. And yes, I'm having a real crisis about the layering issue. Don't get me started.

Vent 2. The t-shirt. It sucks, and they didn't have my size. This race was NOT CHEAP and I'm stuck with an ugly, too-large shirt. Grumble grumble. Maybe I'll wear it as my top layer and shed it at the start. Heh.

Vent 3. Did I mention this race was NOT CHEAP? And in addition to the shirt sucking, the packet also sucked. A bunch of coupons for stuff I don't care about, and two samples of Wheaties. I am not kidding. Not even a course map or information sheet. And, their website sucks, is confusing, and keeps opening up new browser windows.

Vent 4. It's a for-profit race. I don't run very many of these - they're a relatively new addition to the running scene here. I like having more options, I do. But give me a down home CTC race any day, where all comers are welcome, you get a welcome dose of information overload, the registration fee is reasonable, the website is spartan but functional, and a worthy charity gets the money.

Vent 5. I keep track of times and PRs for all my races on a spreadsheet, and for whatever reason, I only have 1 entry for the 10K distance, and I KNOW I've run it at least twice, and possibly three times. This is pissing me off, because I don't know what my PR is.

I had a couple of short but speedy runs this week, so I'm hoping that I blaze tomorrow. I'm not super familiar with the course, but I know there's one killer hill in my old neighborhood. I'm hoping for a PR, but between the cold and the big hill, I think that's a stretch goal for me tomorrow. And, see Vent 5, I'm not even sure what that PR might be. Argh.

So, I got my freak on, looks like I should be in good shape for tomorrow.

Fall high

The past few weeks have been pretty uninspiring, as running goes. A few weekday runs, maybe a longish run on the weekend. Pushing the buggy with 1 kid or 2, or sneaking out by myself at dusk.

Last weekend, I did one of my usual Saturday gigs - I pushed both kids in the buggy to the gym, and took a group exercise class while they tore it up in the kid room. It's about 1.3 miles to the gym, and the class usually is a nice combo of cardio and strength - just enough cardio to make me feel better about only running 2.5 miles on a Saturday. Last weekend, there was a sub, and my "Athletic Conditioning" class morphed in to "Super Ass Kicking Cardio Blast." We even did plenty of running around the building, way more than I was expecting. I was pretty spent by the end of the class, and pushing two kids home in a buggy that could probably use a little air in the tires was enough. I was done!

This morning, I had the rare luxury of both sleeping in (well, as much as you can when your kids wake with the sun) and going for an actual run, all by myself!! I decided to hit the Monticello Trail, and off I went in the cool morning. It was about 50 - perfect running weather. The leaves are just now turning and beginning to fall, and around every curve in the boardwalk was another heartbreakingly beautiful glimpse of shafts of sunlight through the fall canopy.

How lucky am I that one of my regular routes was also Thomas Jefferson's route back in the day? How many people get to enjoy a beautiful fall Saturday run at a World Heritage Site?

I needed to do about 5 miles today, and I ran up a half mile, and back down, then all the way up, 2 miles. The run downhill was fantastic. I was properly warmed up, and I just let my legs go. I glanced at my watch a few times and saw an "8" in front of my pace, pretty outstanding for me. And according to Nike +, I ran my fastest mile ever (or, at least in the last couple months since I started using Nike +). I couldn't have slowed down if I tried. The endorphin rush was phenomenal.

At the bottom of the hill, I stretched for a moment, and then headed straight for the city market for a taco, the best recovery food ever.

Welcome, Autumn!

And with autumn comes blessedly cooler temps - I can run at 10am on a Sunday, instead of having to get up at the crack of dawn on a weekend to beat the heat. I can run at 5:30pm without endangering myself. It's bliss.

This past year has been so hard for me to keep up my running. I look back at some of my blog entries, and I'm amazed that I've kept going at all. There's been so much illness, so much snow, so much record-breaking cold weather, record-smashing hot weather, that it's a wonder I have kept up training (even though it's not for more than a 10K) and set a PR in the 4 miler.

Autumn does this every year to me - the crisp, cool air rushes through, clears out the gnats and the stale air, and makes me feel like there is hope. Oh, the spring races I am planning!

And as my youngest leaves her babyhood behind, I'm getting little glimpses here and there of what it is like to have just a little more ease in my day. Not that parenting gets easier, but that so many of those tiny yet incessant demands on my time are easing up. I don't have to carry her everywhere, which means I don't have to make two trips from the car into the house at the end of the day. I don't have to completely mince every bite of food, which means that mealtime goes just an eensy bit faster. She can participate in dressing and undressing herself, which means getting her ready in the morning or in her jammies at night goes just that much more quickly.

And her brother - he can actually help with so many chores. He's not quite five but I can give him a dinner knife and soft things to cut up to help prepare dinner. I can give him pre-measured ingredients and he'll mix them together. He can buckle himself into his carseat. They'll both take their dishes to the sink or dishwasher.

When I think of every little thing that I do as a mom for my kids, things that people without kids just don't even consider, I wonder how it is that I get anything else done at all, let alone have a full time job! It's death by a thousand cuts - sure, it's only 30 seconds to pour another cup of milk, but I do that 3 times a day (at least) for each child. That's three minutes a day I spend just pouring milk. And I haven't changed a diaper (I do that 4-5 or more times a day, at about 2 minutes per), run a bath (2x/day, 10 minutes per), made a meal, reminded a busy boy to go to the potty, put a bandaid on a scrape, read a bedtime story, or soothed a toddler back to sleep in the middle of the night. How is it that there are even enough hours in the day to do all those things?

Yes, in case you were wondering, I am Superwoman.

Race Report: 2010 Women's 4 Miler

I had a truly awful night's sleep. I got to bed late, and woke up several times during the night. Once when the Supportive Husband came to bed, once when my bug bites were itching me, and I had to get up in search of itch relief, once when the baby monitor battery ran out and started beeping, and once when Sami woke up screaming "Mama, Mamaaaaaaa" not long before my alarm was due to go off. In between, I had plenty of nightmares. None race-specific, but enough in both quantity and quality that when I rolled out of bed for the last time just before 6, that I felt satisfied with my mental state.

Coffee, cereal, socks, shoes, and off I went. I listened to my new "getting in the zone" playlist, which included old favorites Ryan Adams, and Liz Phair, and new favorites Gogol Bordello and Sharon Jones 'cause I'm a bona-fide cap-i-tan. Yeah.

Coming in from the west, I was parked just two cars away from the fence, so I had basically no walk to get to the staging area. I sat in my car and jammed out to my iPod a little while longer.

Just before 7:15, I got out to visit the porta-johns, and then met up with my crew from work, so we could have a picture in our team shirts. Dorky, I know, but hey, they're great women, and it was a really nice shirt.

Finally, the big circus of corralling and walking out onto Garth Road. I ran into and old running friend in the corral, and it was great to catch up for a while. And then we were off!

I have finally learned my lesson about the corrals at this race - most entrants wildly overestimate their pace. It's probably true for most races, but when you've got 3500 bodies, most of them racing novices, crammed onto a two-lane country road, whoever you start with, you're stuck with for a very, very long time. So I put myself in the 10 minute mile corral, even though realistically I'm more of an 11. And it seemed to work nicely this year. Other than getting stepped on once, I didn't feel too crowded. There were times when I was not able to pass slower runners, and I had to dodge plenty of weavers, but I didn't have the claustrophobia that I usually do for the first, oh, four miles.

I purposefully allowed myself to be slowed by the crowd, and my first mile was about 10:45. I really wanted to go out slow, and I had to hold myself back to achieve that 10:45. Having the Nike+ sportband was really useful - it's not super accurate, but it gave me a rough idea of how fast I was really going, as my perception of those things is way off, especially during races.

Mile 2, as the crowd started to thin out, and with the big downhill after the turnaround, was in the neighborhood of 10:30. Who, me? Seriously, I was barely even breathing hard at this point.

Not long after passing mile 2 is when we pass by the finish line, going the opposite direction. Lo and behold, the first two finishers were just crossing the line, one right after the other, in what must have been a pretty spectacular footrace! Yeah! That amped me up and I kept on trucking.

I walked through the second water stop, so that I could actually hydrate, and hit mile 3 at in about 10:40. I chugged uphill to the turnaround. I flew downhill, though I could feel my body really starting to fatigue. Once we exited the shade with about a half mile to go, it was full sun all the way in. Luckily, the weather was gorgeous. Cool and dry.

I walked briefly on another uphill, but quickly picked it up to a run again when I realized how close I was to the finish. I shifted gears, and started booking it.

During my freak out last night, I committed my goals to my mind. Safety goal: 45 minutes. Attainable goal: 43 minutes, just shy of my 42:55 PR for the course. Stretch goal: 40 minutes. Pretty much impossible.

I crossed the finish with 41:something showing on the clock, and realized that not only had I set a PR, I'd smashed it. And stomped on it. Cuz I'm a bona-fide cap-i-tan, thank you Ms. Jones. I knew I was very close to my stretch goal. And some quick mental math made me realize exactly how fast I'd been on that last mile - a CRAZY negative split, if ever there was one - less than a 10 minute mile!! At mile 4!

I made a beeline for the porta potties, since I'd had to pee since the corrals, then grabbed some food and water, and headed for the official times - sure enough, 40:39. I went back twice to read it, just to be sure I hadn't read someone else's number. A 10:10 average? Me?? The only other time I've been that close is the 10:12's I pulled in the Turkey Trot a couple weeks after I ran the marathon.

Having PR'ed so definitively is such a boost. This winter was beyond difficult for me, and this summer, the hottest on record here, has been just as hard. It's tough to stay motivated when I've spent the last year squeezing in runs between snowstorms, illnesses, ER trips, 100 degree days, business trips, and PT sessions. I've had to force myself to run when every bit of my life is conspiring against it. It had crossed my mind more than once that maybe distance running isn't my thing, that maybe I should just do games on the Wii Fit and call it a day.

But today, I realized that I'm in charge. I can't control everything, but I'm in charge of setting the alarm to get up early to run. I'm in charge of packing my lunch so that I can go to the gym on my lunch break. I'm in charge of doing speedwork. I'm in charge of putting one foot in front of the other for one mile or four or 26.2. I'm in charge of pushing hard that last mile. I can't let my life push me around. I ain't nobody's baby, I ain't nobody's soldier, I'm a bonafide cap-i-tan.

Ahhhhh, freak out!

Well, no race would be complete without a freaky freakout the day before. Why hello, Women's Four Miler, it's been too long.

I maintained a sane and sensible easy training/activity program, incorporating my new Nikes (still loving them), plenty of cross training, disciplined midweek runs, and lots of core work. I've run some pretty fast miles recently, though my overall times for any distances longer than 3 miles are still hovering around the 11min/mile mark, which is fine. I'm sure the excitement of race day will give me that extra push that I need to keep it under 44 minutes.

So now I'm freaking out because a)PMS caused me to b)eat too many sweets and not enough real food the past two days and c)now I feel guilty about not running today, even though I *know* I should just take it easy the night before a race. I am seriously in a small panic about not having run today, and the sun is already setting, and it's 12 hours to race time and really too late for a run, especially one that I shouldn't even be going on.

So I've got a low-level freak out going, which is awesome, and very comforting in a sick way.

The rest of me is staying positive. Packet pickup was its usual circus, though as well-ordered as it could possibly be, and I've gone through my obligatory round of bitching about how I should quit running this race because it's a circus and a huge pain in the ass. But, I actually managed to raise some money for the cause this year, which is nice, and motivation for me to run again next year. And the shirts are rad.

Wish me luck tomorrow! Hopefully there will be a non-disastrous race report here soon! And to the rest of you running tomorrow: Run like you stole something!!

ups and downs

My renewed enthusiasm for and commitment to running has been going swimmingly. And I am loving my Nike Frees. No, I'm not a paid spokesperson (I wish!!), but they're better than I'd hoped. I haven't done more than 4 miles at a time in them, but I'm hopeful that I can keep going with them. Who knows what kind of crazy barefoot running is in my future? I'm not a barefoot kind of a girl, but with Merrell set to introduce a "barefoot" shoe later this year, it's clear that there are starting to be more options for minimalist running. Just as we should let a playa play, maybe we should let a pronata pronate, baby.

But today, instead of knocking out the 4-ish miles I'd planned, I slept in, ended up with not one but two little short buddies on my run, and eked out a half mile pushing one and dragging the other. And I ate a corndog at the county fair and took a nap. I'll blame it on PMS, and see you back out on the track/treadmill/trail/road soon.

Mama plus

There's no way to break this gently - not only did I buy a pair of Nike Frees, I also bought a Nike+ sportband. I'm not crazy about being so branded, but I can't deny Nike had products I wanted. I needed a better way to pace myself during runs, and to track my runs and be accountable. I nixed the newest Garmin for only showing average pace. And I nixed the older ones for being not only overkill for my purposes, but also too huge for my little bird wrists.

So yesterday morning I woke up super early, put the transmitter in my shoe and the band on my wrist, pushed the button and... nothing happened. Popped the transmitter out of my shoe, pressed the button again, and, as commanded by The Band, started walking. And nothing happened. Popped it out, pushed buttons, walked in circles in the driveway like a madwoman, and still, nothing. So I took off, just me and the road as usual.

I did a little over a mile, in somewhere between 10 and 12 minutes. I felt good. Every time I get up early to run, I wonder why I don't do it more often.

So this morning, I did it again. Pushed some buttons, got an "OK," pushed another button, and the clock started ticking. Success!!

I ran a measured route, and did it in a suprisingly fast (for me) time. It was fun to look down and see my pace - it wasn't super accurate, but gave me confirmation that yes, I slow down going up the big hill and speed up going down. It's a much improved tool compared to the watches I've had in the past. Which is good, since Max has now claimed my watch as his own. He can't yet tell time, even on a digital, but he delights in telling me the time - usually it's in the neighborhood of twenty-seven thirteen or forty-two eight.

The jury is still out on the shoes, but I think I really love them. I'm an overpronator, and have always had very stable shoes. So it is a truly different experience. I'm trying to concentrate on using my toes more - in my regular shoes, I tend to clench my feet, and let the shoe do all the work. In these, I have to let my foot do the work. I'm still pronating, but I'm trying to work with it rather than against it. I LOVE how light they are. It is a breath of fresh air not to be spending so much energy hauling my shoes around.

But more than that, my mind is a little more in the game. And that has nothing to do with Nike.

in which I don't even think about crying

I got a new watch a while back. I pretty much hate it. I like the idea of it, but I can't seem to do any more with it than I could with my old, cheapo watch. Basically, I use it for a stopwatch. I occasionally hit the lap button, but then can't retrieve my info, plus it doesn't calculate averages the way I'd like. I keep old runs on there, thinking that some day I will sit down (in all my spare time, of course) and parse the data and somehow be granted the keys to the kingdom.

I put the kids to bed tonight, and after the Supportive Husband got home, headed out for an evening run. The sun was setting. A fast and furious thunderstorm had rolled through, cooling things off just a touch. Knowing that the light was waning, I pulled out the first white shirt I laid my hands on - my old "Distance is my game" shirt. And headed for the door.

At the last second, I turned around and grabbed my watch off the bathroom counter. After Saturday's disaster, I had no desire to measure myself against anything concrete. I just needed to make the effort to go run a couple of miles. But I decided that good or bad, I needed to be accountable for what I did out there on the pavement.

I opened the front door, and put my watch into stopwatch mode, and there, staring deep into my soul, was the undeniably shitty time from Saturday's run. For shame. I know I'm slow, but even I have standards, goals, and yes, just a little bit of pride. I'll never win. I can't even run with some of my favorite people because I'm just too slow. And this has never bothered me. But the type-A, hyper-competitive part of me wouldn't run if I weren't faster than somebody. I'd much rather be a DNF or DNS than DFL. And I do want to improve my times. I get sloppy about tracking my workouts, but I never, ever miss putting a race into my log and comparing it with years past.

So seeing Saturday's time, the time that isn't going in my training log, and definitely isn't getting posted for the whole Internet to see, almost deflated me completely, and I very nearly turned back around and bagged my run. It's too hot. It's too humid. I just ate. The kids might wake up and need me. The laundry's not folded.

Instead, I held down the reset button, and after a couple of seconds was rewarded with a metallic chirp and 00:00.00.

Slate clean, I hit start and ran. And ran and ran. And kept running. And ran faster when I felt tired. Saturday was gone with the push of a button. I didn't need to leave my baggage on the pavement, I just needed to clear it out of my watch.

And then I got back to my front porch, two miles and just 20:40 later. I measured on two different sites, and yes, it was a whole 2.0 miles. Maybe even a skosh more. For two miles, I ran 10:20 pace, and didn't walk a step. This is HUGE for me. Huge. People, I was happy with 12 minute miles at the 10 miler. I don't think I've run this fast in the past 3 years, at least.

It's a start. Goodbye, Saturday, and good riddance. Chirp!

run or cry

Do you ever have one of those runs that is so bad that it simply has to be the start of something better because it couldn't get any worse? One of those "perfect storm" runs, where everything in your life that interferes with your running is presented to you, all at once, like a mythological test of will and character?

It's been a hot summer - running any time after 8am is uncomfortable, running after noon is just dangerous. And with my sacrifice of my Saturday morning runs to the Husband's work schedule, finding time to get in runs on a regular basis has been nearly impossible. Sure, I'll pound out a mile on the treadmill at lunchtime, and I've been swimming a lot at the neighborhood pool, but I am not race ready.

This morning was a rare Saturday where the husband didn't have a gig. I claimed dibs, and told him he was in charge of the kids till 9am. Like an idiot, I set my alarm for 6:35, which is about 10 minutes before Max is usually up for the day. Next thing I know, I'm putting on my sneakers and I have company. The Husband was still asleep.

I made Max breakfast, feeling my morning run ticking away with every Cheerio. Then I attempted to gently remind the Husband that he was in charge. As I tried to slip out, with the Husband still snoozing and Max groggy and clingy, it met with some resistance. The next thing I know, I'm putting the buggy in the back of the car and telling a tear-streaked Max he can come with me as long as he doesn't slow me down.

Loyal readers (hi Mo and Robine) probably know that I enjoy the solitude of running, so you can imagine that I was, to put it mildly, peeved to suddenly have an unwanted running buddy. I love him, but he weighs 42 pounds, and needs snacks and potty breaks.

Of course, 5 minutes in to our drive, he freaked out about not being at home, so I turned around. I walked him up to the front door and opened it, where I heard Sami squeal "Mama!!" from the kitchen. I shoved Max inside ahead of me, and closed the door before she could see me. Yeah, great parenting, I know.

45 minutes behind schedule, I left the driveway again. The temperature was already 77 degrees, and I almost bagged the run entirely. The mountain of mom guilt I felt for leaving my babies was huge. Almost as big as the grudge I was holding against the Husband for not snapping to when duty called.

I ran the Monticello trail, one of my favorite runs. And yet, I was peeved about that, too. I really wanted to be running some of my old training grounds that I don't feel comfortable running without the safety of a group or at least a running partner. Ridge Road, I'm talking about you!! And Dick Woods, god bless you, maybe even you, too, just a little.

With tears in my eyes, I kept my sunglasses on and my hat pulled low and started off.

The first half mile was pretty good. Each step shook off a little more of the angst, guilt, and anger. But I wasn't ready to make eye contact with any fellow trailgoers; I kept my eyes averted.

I don't know if it was the heat, the humidity, or my growing hunger and need to pee, but I started falling apart. I almost turned around a mile up the two mile path, but figured that I could stop at the visitor's center up top and use the bathroom, and maybe even get an iced coffee at the cafe.

No such luck. I reached the gates to the grounds and an elderly rent-a-cop, clearly drunk with power, roundly chastised me for attempting to run through before the official opening time. He was overly rude to someone who clearly wasn't out to vandalize or wreak any havoc, and it took a lot of willpower not to just drop trou right on Mr. Jefferson's Little Mountain and take care of my potty break right there at that picturesque wayside.

I begrudgingly turned around and headed back down the hill. Despite being wooded, there are precious few areas appropriate for answering a call of nature, so I pressed on.

Usually I let my legs unwind on the long downhill, but I just didn't have any rhythm left. Any baggage I had dropped on the way up, I was picking right back up and then some on the way down. And it was so humid I felt like I needed gills to breathe. I took walk breaks for my lungs. I took walk breaks for my legs. I took walk breaks for my psyche. I ran only when I needed to keep from crying, because I was so worn out that it was really one or the other at that point. If I have to pick between running and crying, there is no fucking way I am picking crying.

How did I get here? How did I get from being a marathoning superwoman to a frazzled mom who can't run downhill? Hip injury, bad winter, illness, hot summer, kid illness, business trips, workaholic husband, needy kids, blah blah blah. I can only chalk it all up to excuses at this point, and resolve to do better tomorrow. I thought for a long time that running was getting in the way of things I wanted to do with my life. But today I learned that running is one of the things on a very short list that I do want, no, NEED, to do with my life. I need to get a plan, get a program, pick a race, find a group, find some time, change my schedule, buy new bras. But mostly, I just need to pick running.