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.

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.

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.

Monday, November 15, 2010

junk miles

I've heard this term before, referring to those weekday runs that you do not for speed or tempo, but just to put hay in the barn, so to speak. The kind of runs with no real agenda, other than accumulating a few miles to keep your legs working, and to justify your long run mileage.

I'm coming to love my junk miles. Don't get me wrong, I crave distance, mostly because I know I'll never have speed. But popping out at dusk on a fall evening for 25 minutes of loping along, just because I can, is delightful.

After such a long, hot, impossible summer, I am reveling in the cool weather. Rather than fight against the short days, I'm fully embracing them. I've got all kinds of reflective gear - a vest, a headband, bracelets, - and a headlamp, and suddenly there are a million more hours of the day available to me to get my fix. I usually run early in the morning, rather than in the evening, because it just fits better with our schedules, but today I had the chance to run at dusk, and I took it.

It was disorienting, running as it is getting darker and darker, when I'm used to starting out in the pitch black, and running as the sky begins to glow. I hadn't brought my headlamp, so just minutes into my run, I couldn't see where my feet were going to land. Once I got over the needing to see, it was a pleasant kind of sensory deprivation. I spied several other runners, also in their reflective gear, out for their nightly constitutionals. It's rare for me to see another soul on my morning runs.

I did see many more cars than I see in the morning - people headed home at the end of the workday. The pilot in me worried about ruining my night vision from the oncoming headlights, but the runner in me just chuckled and kept trusting her feet to the abyss.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

it had to happen sooner or later

I've had such a string of great, uplifting, inspiring runs, that a dud was bound to come my way.

I went for a 3 mile run on my lunch break and it sucked. Suuuuuuuuucked. Suh-hucked. I had a very busy, stressful work morning, and I was so looking forward to blowing off some steam. The second I could break away, I dashed out the door and away I went. Yes, I started out too fast. Rookie! And then I underestimated my route mileage, and realized that I was going to have to do some creative doubling back to get up to three. So then I was tired, burnt out, and running around in circles like an idiot. By the time I finished, I could barely walk, and for some odd reason the pressure of my hat on my head made me feel like I was going to puke.

I usually walk and stretch after a run, but today I sat the f*** down.

But, ever the optimist, I looked for the good in my lousy run.
-It is a PERFECT fall day today. I mean, PERFECT. Cool, clear, beautiful foliage. Oh, your heart just sings on days like this, and I'm grateful to have been outdoors.
-I ran 10:10's. This was the most jaw-dropping for me. My sluggish, crappy run is 10:10's. That's pretty freakin' awesome for me.

Saturday, November 06, 2010

breaking the barrier

I have officially signed up for the 10 Miler training program, and the planets all aligned and I actually got to go to the group run. Regular readers of my blog (both of them) probably know that one of my taglines about running is that I run to be alone. I suppose I'll have to eat my words after this morning.

Coach Mark was there giving us a pep talk. Again, he talked about the Kenyans, which always makes me snicker - I am about as un-Kenyan as you could get, even ignoring the fact that I might be one of the whitest women on the planet. But truthfully, listening to Mark evangelize about running is one of my happy places. It's his words that helped me find my identity after Max's birth. Even if he never remembers my name, he always addresses me as an athlete, for which I am eternally thankful. As much as I complain about standing in the cold to listen to him remind us to hydrate and wear layers, I truly enjoy it, and find it comforting and inspiring that someone so legendary in our local running community has made it his life's work to be a coach to athletes like me.

Amongst the sea of unfamiliar faces was another mom from Sami's daycare. We ended up running together and chatting the whole time, and I never even glanced at my watch. When I got home, I uploaded my run and found this:




What the WHAT?!!

I held a steady 10 min/mile pace while gabbing. Huh. How about that. I'll admit that my running partner was far less short of breath than me, and was probably holding herself back, but it was an altogether comfortable and pleasant run. And fast!

Maybe I need to reconsider the solitude thing.

The big picture is that for the first time ever, I can actually conceive of doing a 30 minute 5K, and not dying or vomiting from the effort. I still have another 20 seconds/mile to deal with, but I honestly think it's doable. I have three weeks until the Turkey Trot, and I doubt I'll be able to do it then, but it's always been a fast race for me. And the next opportunity will be the New Year's Day 5K, which has the advantages of being flat and at 11am.

A 10 min/mile pace has always been both a mental and physical barrier for me. And I almost didn't notice that I ran right through it.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

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?

Friday, October 22, 2010

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.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

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.

Sunday, October 03, 2010

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.

Saturday, September 04, 2010

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.

Friday, September 03, 2010

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!!

Saturday, August 07, 2010

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.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

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.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

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!

Saturday, July 17, 2010

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.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

PT and parenthood

I graduated from PT! I'm not exactly back to new, but it'll do. I am trying to build the core I never had and REALLY didn't have after 3 pregnancies. It's humbling, to say the least. I learned lots of really torturous exercises. Fitting in all the PT stuff has been really time consuming, and I have been running very little.

But today I ran twice! I'm not usually in to two-a-days, but apparently my four year old son is. He heard the Supportive Husband and I talking about going for a walk/run, and decided that not only did he want to come, he did NOT want to ride in the buggy. So he and I ran while the Supportive Husband pushed the toddler in the double stroller. We ran and ran and ran. For some short little legs, we went quite a ways. And Max got tired out, too. ;)

Later in the morning, he had his penultimate swim lesson, just in the nick of time as the pools around here are opening next weekend. He floated and bobbed and glided and jumped. And when it was over, he begged for more time in the water. He recently got a snorkel mask, and I helped him float around as he snorkeled around the pool.

After we got home, he ate a huge lunch, and begged to go running again. So we put the baby in the buggy and took off. We ran and ran to the neighboring neighborhood's playground, where he ran and climbed and slid and jumped. Then we ran home, just beating the rain clouds coming over the mountains.

He then refused to nap, and was later heard telling his sister, "Let's run around!"

He went to bed early, and without a single word of protest.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Physical Therapy

I finally started PT for my hip that has been bothering me since I was 6 months pregnant with Sami. She is now 17 months old, so, yeah, I've really been putting this off.

Why did I wait so long?

After the first session, I felt a little better, confident that the PT had identified my major complaints, and some issues I hadn't even realized I was having because I was so focused on my painful hip. After my second session, I could tell my gait was different, both running and walking. I'm no longer all herky-jerky, using my body to compensate for my sore, weak, and spastic hip flexor. A few days later, I'm finding that surrounding muscles are sore, because I'm finally using them the way they're supposed to be used. I have made huge progress, but still have a ways to go.

Mostly, I'm just so glad to know that I can feel good again. That I don't have to deal with a bum hip permanently. After 20 months, I had integrated the bad hip into my life, so it's taking some time to un-integrate it. But I'm ready to do the work.

The Charlottesville Marathon was this morning. There's a half-marathon, too. I thought about running it, but really didn't want to mess up the work in progress. But now I know that the marathon - the full 26.2 - is now a matter of when, not if. I'm thinking about going easy this summer, spending lots of time with the kids at the pool, doing the 2 mile Cable Swim in July, then tuning up with a fall half. Then next spring - 26.2 here I come!!

Sunday, April 04, 2010

Proud mama!

Today my boy went on a run with me!

We ran about .4 mi around the neighborhood, taking prudent walk breaks. He lectured me on how to make my muscles stronger. I guess we're rubbing off on each other.

Saturday, April 03, 2010

surprise - race report!

So, I ran the 10 Miler.

I had a great week. Nothing was hurting. Nobody got sick. I ran a lot. So yesterday I decided to pick up my packet. "I can drop out at mile 3, which is a quick walk to the parking lot, or mile 5 which is a couple blocks from my parents' house," I said to myself.

I have never been so mentally unprepared for a race before. Lining up for the start, I still wasn't quite there. And then the national anthem, and then the gun. I ran right past my car, gave it a wave goodbye and followed the crowd. I purposefully started way, way back at the start, and took the first mile in about 12 minutes. (Sorry for the inexact times, but I have this new watch that I still can't quite figure out how to retrieve my splits from.) Second mile in a little less, third mile a little less, and fourth mile in a blazing 10:30. Fifth mile was fast (for me), too - I crossed the half at about 55 minutes.

A little intermission to sing the praises of this race - the cherries and bradford pear trees were in full bloom, the sun was shining, the spectators were out in full force. Little kids handed out water in the neighborhoods, bands played, a church band sang uptempo gospel, the Pink Ladies magically appeared just when hope was waning. This is a fantastic race, so well organized, so well integrated into the fabric of my hometown which I love more than any place on earth. There were even college students in tuxes, and frat boys with signs saying "quitters drink free." Today, despite my best intentions, I will be buying my own drinks.

Miles 6 and 7 are always killers, tons of hills. I think one of those was at 13 minutes and something for me. But there was yet another reason to love this race - there's an official pit stop between 6 and 7, at the Pavilion bathrooms. After taking water from every little cherubic face holding a paper cup with an outstretched arm, I really needed that pit stop!

I crossed mile 8, looked at my watch, and realized that I might break two hours, which I failed to do last year. Not a land speed record by any means, but a nice round number for me.

At the water stop at mile 9, I had more than 14 minutes to go before the two hour mark. At that point, I knew I could break 2 hours, even if I walked the rest of the way.

I didn't walk, and ran across the finish at 1:57:04 by my watch, and about 1:58:30 gun time. I felt like a million bucks, and grinned like an idiot the whole way into the chute.

I should be this unprepared for every race.

Congratulations, my fellow 10 milers, and a big shout out to everyone who makes this race go so smoothly.

Monday, March 29, 2010

looking forward

I heard a little radio bit about the 10 miler this morning, and got suddenly depressed. I am NOT okay with not running it. Two years ago, when I was newly pregnant with Sami and just too sick and exhausted to run it, I cheerfully volunteered on race day. But this year, I'm just going to try to pretend that it's not even going on. It's going to be too hot, anyway.

What gets me the most about this is that there's no one good reason why I'm not running. It's death by a thousand cuts. If I hadn't had the first case of strep, or the second. If I hadn't had the flu on the way back from Vegas. If I hadn't had the hurt toe. If I hadn't pulled my side carrying my luggage through the airport. If my hip hadn't started hurting again. If one of those things, or one of so many other little setbacks hadn't happened, I might be running on Saturday. I wish I could point to one thing and say, this, this is the thing that's keeping me from running. It's none of them, and all of them.

Truthfully, it's crossed my mind more than once to just pick up my packet on Friday and go run. I did 3 miles on Saturday, plus a pretty vigorous athletic conditioning class at the gym that's got to be equivalent to another 3. I feel pretty good right now. A few creaks here and there, but nothing insurmountable. The problem is I just don't have the "hay in the barn" as another running blogger put it. Running 10 miles 2 weeks after a 2 week hiatus, after 3 months of interrupted training is just not smart. Yeah, I could get through Saturday, but at what cost?

My physical happens to be Thursday, and hopefully I'll come out of there with the confidence and PT referral I need to keep my eyes on the road ahead, not just the next step in front of me.

The next round of races that I'm looking toward is fall. Fall is lousy with halfs and fulls around here, plus a smattering of 10K's and the like. It's a long way till then, and without the high of the 10 miler to draw from, it's going to be really tough going to make it through the summer. I'll admit to feeling a little bit lost right now. I run to reach goals, and having not reached my goal, it makes the next one harder to set, let alone reach.

I think I'll take a few days to just wallow in it, but then it's moving on, my eyes up ahead on the road, thinking of autumn.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

I'm *really* not running!

I think the Supportive Husband gave me cooties.

As if the flulike illness wasn't enough, then there was the painful side. As that got better, I realized how much the rest of me hurt from hunching over to compensate. So I booked a massage to fix that. However, just to put the exclamation point at the end of the sentence, my toe started hurting. I went to bed with ten good piggies, and woke up with nine good piggies, and one red, swollen piggy that I can't bend or put weight on. If I had any recollection of any kind of trauma whatsoever, I would totally believe you if you told me it was broken.

So yeah, I'm officially, *officially* not running the Ten Miler, as I am officially not running right now, and haven't run (not even in place!) in over a week.

Say a little prayer for my toe - the weather has turned balmy, and I'm itchy to get back out on the roads and trails!

Saturday, March 13, 2010

yoinked

Today was the MJH8K, and I didn't run it.

I look forward to this race every year, it is the first reliable sign of spring. After a very long and snowy winter (60 inches of snow, in a place that usually gets about a foot), I *needed* this race. And guess what?

Yeah, I got sick. AGAIN. I've been sick more than well the past few months. It wasn't strep this time, but my symptoms were very similar - fever, aches, sore throat, swollen lymph nodes. The rapid test came out negative, and I haven't heard back on the culture, so that's likely negative, too.

And on top of it all, I pulled a muscle or strained a ligament or otherwise yoinked (that's the technical term) a good portion of my right torso. It's an injury nearly as stupid as the time I tripped going up the steps at the bagel shop and twisted my ankle. Like a total dummy, I messed with perfection and decided to hand carry a duffel bag rather than use my airline pilot wheelie bag when we went to Vegas (with a side trip to Zion National Park) last week. I can only move my right arm in certain directions - getting my shirt and pants on is quite the challenge, and I end up contorting myself like a Cirque du Soleil acrobat to avoid certain movements.

So I'm calling The Supportive Husband's physical therapist on Monday to get myself patched up.

I fully admit to being optimistic to the point of Pollyanna-ism, but my optimism is failing me right now. At this point, I'm just hoping to be able to spend a little time on the recumbent bike tomorrow. Lifting weights is entirely out of the question, as are running and swimming. I can't push either kid in the stroller. I know the 10 miler, 3 weeks away, is a no go for me this year.

And I feel like such a failure. I was totally on track to do it, I had padding built into my training schedule. But all those January and February weekday miles are as useless as our checked bag that never arrived in Vegas. Carefully planned and packed, but if it didn't show up on the baggage carousel, we might as well have never packed it in the first place.

I know, all those miles were good for something, regardless of whether I manage to meet my goals. Overall health and fitness, right? Cold comfort right now, as I sit swaddled in a heating pad.

And in the big scheme of things, a little yoinking really isn't that tragic. It's not like I blew out my knee or got cancer or broke my arm. So tell me to buck up, interwebs. Tell me that tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it yet. Tell me to play the glad game!

Tell me that I will kick the 10 miler's ass next year, and the sting of not running it this year will fade fast once I've got that finisher's medal around my neck.

Right?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Game off!

Strep again... not me....yet. The Supportive Husband was feeling a little off this morning, headed to the doctor, and tested positive for strep. Coincidentally, I had an appointment to get both kids tested for strep today, just in case one of the little darlings was the source of my illnesses. And as it turns out, my dear boy is an asymptomatic carrier. Poor dear, I think he genuinely feels bad about it.

But after schlepping two kids to the doctor, scrambling to find childcare for Typhoid Max, cleaning vomit out of the car after his delayed gag reflex kicked in a mile down the road, running to the pharmacy, making it to work, scrambling to get myself to the doctor to get tested, racing home, making dinner, fetching whatnot for the Sick Husband, putting kids to bed, washing up, making tomorrow's lunches...I look up and it's 9:30pm and I'm preparing for a restless night on the sofabed.

Good lord. Can spring come fast enough?

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Game on!

Okay, I recovered from my non-running hiccup, and got in a fantastic run and workout this weekend, plus lots midweek mileage, woooooo! I even ran to the gym (about 1.5 miles), took a 1 hour "athletic conditioning" class which involved getting my ass kicked by a sadistic little sprite, and ran home. I am feeling it today!

We had temps in the 50's this weekend, which is pretty normal for us this time of year, but seems so balmy, given the cold and snowy winter we've had. It's been nearly a month since we had a high temp that was at or above average! The snow did some serious melting, and I've got more options for running routes and times (ie before dawn). And the days are getting longer, so soon a 6am run won't be in the pitch black. And with the nicer weather, I don't feel guilty about putting one or both kids in the buggy. We've all been jonesing for a little fresh air, and even Max has been an eager passenger this past week.

My weight has stabilized, and I'm no longer losing and this is a good thing! I am at a weight that 1) looks and feels great and 2) I can actually maintain over the long haul. For the VERY FIRST TIME in my whole life, I feel like my weight is simply another measurement in my assessment of my overall health and fitness. I was totally dragging during a treadmill session and workout at the gym the other day. When I was done, I hopped on the scale, and was down almost two pounds. Instead of thinking "awesome, I'm so skinny and therefore a better person," I immediately though, "I bet I'm dehydrated." Sure enough, I struggled sleepily through the rest of the day, downed 32 ounces (or two pounds) of water after dinner, and perked right back up.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

Clunk

.....aaaaaand I'm off the wagon again. Just like that.

I was feeling all fly and buff and powerful. Another snowstorm was forecast to give us 6-12 inches. No big deal. I played in the snow and did a lot of shoveling. And then about an hour later, WHAM, just like that, I was hit with the chills and aches, and my temp spiked to 104 (or higher, I just was so sick I couldn't even take my temp any more), and I spent the rest of the afternoon delirious in bed. By the next morning I was in really bad shape, and got to traverse snow covered roads to go to the ER, where two male nurses and a DO with a ponytail got me all fixed up.

I had strep again. Can you believe it? Turns out, I might need to have my tonsils out. Which is funny because I already had them out in 1986. So I've got an appointment with an ENT coming up to discuss my options. Super.

So, I spent most of this past week recovering. And shoveling, as we had a minor snow event in the middle of the week, and ANOTHER Snowpocalypse this weekend. We had somewhere north of a foot of snow, with a fair bit of sleet mixed in the middle. I'm not really sure. There was so much snow still on the ground from last weekend, that we never did get a good measurement. I have shoveled and shoveled and shoveled. And yet, when I heard the gym was going to be open today, I actually went. Did a little speedwork on the treadmill, lifted weights, did abs, and stretched. And spent a long time rolling around on my back on the foam roller. Aaaaaaah.

The roads around here are in good shape, but the sidewalks aren't. And there are tall snowbanks on the side of the road, so running in the early morning (ie in the dark) is a very, very bad idea. I can hit the gym early, I guess. Or try to get back into the lunchtime gym routine. And shoveling (especially with the baby on my back) has turned out to be some awesome cardio. But at some point, I need to get some real road miles in.

Did I mention we've got another snow storm coming on Tuesday?

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Lightening the load

May I celebrate a moment? I am at my goal weight. I have a 5-lb range, actually, and I'm smack in the middle of it. Truthfully, I didn't think this was a weight I could really maintain over the long haul. But since it's been more than two months since the baby weaned, and I've held this weight for four months, I think I can say that yes, this is a realistic weight for me. The last time I saw this weight was before I got pregnant. The first time. Six years ago. Okay, I was at and even below this weight for about 30 seconds my highest-mileage week when I was still nursing Max. And I was miserably hungry.

But this time, I didn't kill myself to get here. I gave up packaged cookies. I started upping my activity level around the time the baby weaned. And that's pretty much it. Mostly, I am just working hard on becoming stronger and faster, and the goal weight is a nice side effect.

I've also realized that it is time for me to give up, or at least put aside, my beloved CamelBak FlashFlo. It's just too much to haul around all the time. With my nursing days behind me now, I don't need 54 oz of water for a 10 mile run (plus all the attendant crap I got used to carrying in the pack). I've downsized to a SPIbelt, and one of those water bottles with a strap for your hand. I did get the double SPIbelt, though, mostly because my energy of choice is ShotBloks, which aren't easily strapped to anything. They need a pocket.

(And sadly, no, neither CamelBak nor SPIbelt are sponsors of this blog in any way, though I love them both dearly.)

So then end result is I'm hauling around a few ounces less than I have been. I don't know if I'll gain any speed out of it, but both my body and mind are happier for it.

Click

Sometimes it all just clicks into place.

This past week, I was able to train my plan for the first time in years. YEARS. I am not exaggerating. That is what life is when you have a kid or two and a job.

I am healthy. I am uninjured. My kids are reasonably healthy (though the baby did vomit all over me while we were waiting at the pharmacy for antibiotics for her ear infection). It's The Supportive Husband's off season. The kids are sleeping well. There's no more snow on the ground, and the weather, though cold, hasn't been too bad.

I will admit to switching a run for a swim when I got the gym and realized that I didn't have a sports bra in my gym bag. But, that's why I always keep a swimsuit and goggles in my bag.

I squeezed in a run on my lunch hour. I got up in the pitch black darkness. I pushed my run till 10am to fit the schedule of my new running group, but got there early and put in an extra mile or two. I ran to the gym, lifted weights, and ran home. I did the most amazing core workout watching The Biggest Loser. Click, click, click, click. All the pieces just settled right in, and it almost seemed effortless. Almost.

Weeks like these are so rare. It feels awesome to be ahead of the curve training for the 10 Miler. This time last year I was barely training. My hip was in pain every time I took a step, and I was about to come down with walking pneumonia. Oh yeah. and I was nursing a 2 month old.

So I'm writing about this week not for you, the two of you who read my blog (hi Mo and Robine). I'm writing this for me, so I can remember that even if I only get weeks like this once every two years, I DO get weeks like this. They're out there, and there is hope for making a plan and sticking to it.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Come ON!

So, I was sick AGAIN. I have been sick - sick enough to not be able to work out at all, let alone run in the cold, for 3 of the last 6 weeks. This is crazy! Stomach bug this time. Nuff said.

Anyway, pounding vitamins C and D, eating my greens, and washing my hands till they crack. And setting my alarm for dark-thirty tomorrow morning. Of course, with snow expected tonight, I'm not sure if I'll actually be able to run or even drive to the gym at that hour. But damned if I'm not going to do SOMETHING tomorrow. Because all this sitting around is exhausting.

Friday, January 01, 2010

non-race report - NYD5K

Because the snow rendered the field used for parking impassable, the New Year's Day 5K was cancelled. I was crushed - it is one of my favorite races! I always look forward to starting the new year right - running in the cold, dreaming of PR's.

So Louise and I did our own 5-ishK this morning instead. At 8:10, five minutes before our scheduled meetup time, I was having serious regrets. The Supportive Husband and I had been out past midnight, communing with our inner gypsy punks at the Gogol Bordello show.

I haven't run outside since I came down with a nasty cold made worse by two days of nonstop snow shoveling. The cold air made my airway feel "itchy." So I've been doing the treadmill at the gym, but since I can only manage about 3/4 mile before I die of boredom, I've been running 1/2 mile, hopping on the bike, running 1/2 mile, lifting weights, running 1/2 mile, doing abs, running 1/2 mile, and stretching. So I was a little apprehensive about how my body would take to running three whole miles all in one stretch.

I shouldn't have been worried. I felt great. Mad props to Louise for poking along at my conversational pace, which I know she can do while reading a book and carrying a baby. My hip tightened up a little at the very end, but otherwise I have no complaints. Airway felt fine.

No complaints - no excuses. Hello, twenty-ten!