One hip mama, part 2

In a previous post I had an MRI and found out I had a torn labrum in my hip. Now is the time on the blog where we talk anatomy of the hip. Ball and socket, sound familiar? The socket is lined with cartilage, and there's a lip that extends out, that's the labrum. Mine has torn away from the underlying cartilage. I suspect that the amazing joint instability I had while pregnant with Sami caused the ball to catch on the labrum and, over time, cause a tear. The orthopedic surgeon blames my many years of dance class. Nobody, for the record, is blaming running for the injury. Oddly enough, running typically doesn't hurt - it might hurt after running, it hurts sometimes walking, and it hurts like all get out when I roll over in bed. The bigger issue is that it could get worse, and will likely lead to osteoarthritis, which is not good. So it behooves me to fix it sooner rather than later.

How do you fix a torn labrum? First, you try rest, physical therapy, and anti-inflammatories. Check, check, and check, and mine still hurts. In short, tears don't heal themselves. So you fix them. With surgery.

When my doctor first floated the word "surgery," I immediately burst out with "I HAVE A NATURAL DISTRUST OF ORTHOPEDIC SURGEONS!" With an anesthesiologist dad, an OR nurse mom, and my own stint working in a medical library, my impression of orthopedic surgeons has not always been the most favorable, though there are plenty of orthopods who defy the stereotypes. The problem is, orthopedic surgeons, the good ones, anyway, tend to be very specialized. So you have to hope that "the hip guy" happens to be the guy in the department with a sterling track record, and a great beside manner.

Lucky for me, my doctor also has a natural distrust of orthopedic surgeons, and found The Hip Guy in this area. He's not at my local hospital, but he's one of a handful of surgeons in the state with extensive experience in hip arthroscopy, so I made the long drive to Richmond to meet with Dr. D.

more to come....

One hip mama, part 1

So I've had hip troubles on and off since I was pregnant with Sami, who is now three. I've done a stint in PT that made a lot of difference, but the pain has never completely gone away. My wonderful new doc sent me for an Xray, which was negative for some bad stuff. Yay! But I then needed an MRI to rule in/out some other stuff. Boo.

The very exciting part about all this is that in order to get a good view of the joint, I needed to have an arthrogram - basically, an x-ray where they inject dye into your joint. This involves a long x-ray so the radiologist (a PA, actually) can visualize that the dye is going into the right space during the injection, and the space is all filled up. One nurse took my sworn statement that I wasn't pregnant (though I had already signed a waiver with another nurse before), and handed me off to another who got me positioned on a table under an x-ray machine. She made all kinds of jokes about not wanting to fry my eggs in case I wanted to have more kids as she swaddled me in lead. Then she realized that my arthrogram was for my hip, and not my shoulder, and unswaddled me, leaving my eggs to fry. Nice.*

The PA numbed me up good, and got started. Even with all the numbing, there is no way to disguise the fact that at stranger is injecting dye right in to your joint. Especially since you see it on an x-ray screen. It was over soon enough, and a nurse helped me hobble down the hall, into the elevator, up a floor, and down another hall to the MRI. Did I mention I was wearing a hospital gown for this whole journey? Fried eggs with a side of humiliation.

I was pleased to discover that I was waiting for the flagship MRI of the brand-new hospital - the 450. Its wide bore is suitable for bariatric and claustrophobic patients. What a relief, not to be in a tube that is barely bigger around than me. However, at the last moment, I was whisked down the hall to the mobile unit. Yes, I was getting an MRI in a trailer. My gown, drafty by nature, provided no protection against the cold breeze in the waiting area.

I rode the power liftgate up to the trailer, and asked the MRI tech how short a straw he had to draw to get this assignment. He said he actually liked being out there with no one to bother him, which made me feel like I should apologize for intruding on his solitude. He readied the machine and the computer while I locked up my purse and clothes.

And then in I went. Holy crap, I went waaaaay in, feet first. I had done some advanced googling to try to prepare myself for how far in I'd have to be. My expectations were way off. I'm only 5'2", so all those pictures of smiling, average-height patients in up to their chins weren't quite accurate for me. Basically, the top of my head was out, which might as well have been nothing. If I arched my neck and craned my head around, I could sort of see one wall, which had a mural of a mountain scene.

Moments later, the tech came bursting back in, shouting, "Ma'am, are you pregnant?" I had, within the past hour, discussed my very personal reproductive issues with a nurse upon check in, two different nurses and the PA prior to the arthrogram, and I had signed a waiver stating that no, I was not pregnant. So when the tech asked me that with panic in his voice, I wondered if he'd seen something on his screen that I should know about. Getting pregnant again is one of my deepest fears, so there I was, sure I was pregnant, trapped in a teeny, tiny, drafty tube. My panic level was off the charts and I deeply regretted not having asked for Ativan, or Valium, or Xanax, or at least a Bloody Mary.

I said no, and he hustled back out, leaving me and my adrenaline all by our lonesome to deal with my deepest fears. So, it was a super fun way to spend my lunch hour. Did I mention that the tech had had to rubber-band my feet together?

Once it was over, I headed back to work where I proceeded to have the most unproductive afternoon as my body processed all the excess adrenaline that I'd been pumping out during the scan.

My doctor called with the results a few days later...on a Sunday. It's never good when doctors call on a Sunday. Sure enough, I have a labral tear.

More on labral tears and their treatment coming in a future post....




*We're done having kids, so I'm not really worried about my eggs being fried, scrambled, or poached.

Race report - Turkey Trot

It was a beautiful morning for a run - cool and sunny. I had decided a while ago that since I was in no danger of setting a PR today that I'd push Sami in the buggy. I haven't pushed any kid in a buggy for any real distance in months and months, so between that, the hilly course, and my general injury/fitness status, I knew today was going to be painful.

And the most painful part was the start. Oh, Turkey Trot, how I love you and hate you. Runners with strollers are asked to line up at the back with the walkers, which is ridiculous, as there is no longer a separate corral for walkers/baby joggers. It's just one big lump, and you kind of just end up where you end up. I ended up waaaay in the back, and spent the first mile trying desperately to move faster than a brisk walk. It's a Turkey TROT people, not a Turkey Lumber or a Turkey Stroll. TROT.

By the time I got out of the lump of slow, we were deep into the tough hills that make up more than half the course. I was too hot, out of breath, and Sami was saying "Can I get out yet? Can I get out yet? Can I get out yet? Can I get out yet?" etc. I had no rhythm, and my main focus was on making sure Sami didn't launch herself out of the buggy, since she now refuses to be buckled. I walked up a good portion of the hills.

The final hill tops out about a half-mile from the finish, and then it's a long, easy downhill. Wheeeeee!

I crossed the finish line at just under 40 minutes by their clock, and just over 38 minutes by mine, since it took that long for my part of the crowd to cross the start. I didn't feel particularly awesome about this, but when I sat down to fill out my race spreadsheet, wouldn't you know it was a huge PR for buggy-pushing. Huh, how about that. Two years ago I pushed Sami to a 42:28 in the Turkey Trot. I set a 4 minute buggy-pushing PR and I felt shitty about the race - that's how far my running and racing have come in the past two years.

So in feeling shitty about the race, I actually feel pretty good about my running overall. I'm clearly more fit than I give myself credit for. My expectations are higher for myself. If I can get my hip fixed up, I think my fastest years are still ahead of me, despite the fact that my late 30's are coming on with alarming speed.

So this year I am thankful that I am healthy, that I am fit and strong. I am thankful, oh so thankful, for the health of my kids and family. I am thankful that my biggest complaint is that my hip kinda sorta hurts, but that I can still PR on it. How lucky am I?

Happy Thanksgiving, readers! May the upcoming holiday season bring you health and happiness that lasts all year long.

I'm awesome; it's the hills that suck

I've been reluctant to blog a lot lately - my awesome new doctor, though he fixed my foot, has been unable to fix my hip. So I've had an xray (looked fine) and am having an MRI in a couple weeks. Meanwhile, I'm paranoid about all the worst case scenarios, and feel really down about my running prospects this season. Last year was so spectacular that I feared I'd reached my peak, and so far this season has done nothing to dispell that.

Anyway, the doctor didn't tell me not to run, and truth be told my pain level has been pretty constant for the past year and a half, so I don't think I'm making it worse. In the absence of a diagnosis or treatment plan, I'm just trucking along.

This year's program is in a new location, since the UVa track is under construction. I'm hoping that it will be done soon and that the powers that be will continue to allow it to be used by the community, because the new location sucks. The high school track is fine, though it's just 6 lanes of asphalt, instead of 8 lanes of marshmallows. The surrounding neighborhoods are lovely - quiet, wooded streets and beautiful homes. But the hills are outrageous.

Yeah. So, not in the greatest shape, paranoid, and demotivated me is not having the best time on the Saturday runs. Thankfully, I have a great running buddy and the group in general has been fantastic.  I'll spend 5 miles kvetching to the crew, and then as soon as we're back to the parking lot, I'm all "Hey, that wasn't so bad!!" Running in a group is the only way I can do this.

Next up - the annual Turkey Trot, and then another weekend of sucking wind on crazy hills.

Adjustment

I haven't been blogging much, not just because I haven't been running much, but because my little niggling injuries were getting me down. It occurred to me that it's been more than five years since I first hurt my foot. Ever since, it's been on again/off again, no bad pain, but in its on phases, a very persistent ache. For months, it's been on again, and more recently, the pain was spreading.

My hip, which I thought I'd bested with PT, was also bothering me, along with the associated glute and back pain that accompanies it. Long story short, I have spent a few weeks feeling sorry for myself and not running much, partly because I was afraid of hurting myself more, and partly because my bad attitude and I were too busy having a little pity party.

I had put off seeing someone about this for many reasons. I'm super busy. The pain wasn't that bad. PT had declared me cured, and discharged me. I've been through every shoe imaginable, from barefoot to motion control with inserts, and nothing had changed. I'm not really an athlete.

On a recommendation from The Supportive Husband, I finally, at long last, made an appointment with a sports med and rehab guy. He's an MD, but an osteopath wannabe, and has a chiropractic table and a skeleton in his office.

Can I tell you how hard it is to go into a doctor's appointment saying "um, well, it's bothered me for five years, and I ran a marathon on it, so it's not that bad, but can you fix it now?" Any normal human would give me a "bless your heart" and a sample of ibuprofen and send me on my way. Lucky for me, my new doc is not a normal person.

He spent 45 minutes hands on, assessing and adjusting me. It was very, very validating to hear him tell me what was out of whack, which totally lined up with every symptom I've had. He worked on my foot, manhandling my misaligned cuboid bone. He put me in spinal twists, plucked my spasming muscles, and otherwise worked magic that is hard to explain. My body and my attitude both got a big adjustment.

Everything feels a bit in flux today - for a few hours, my foot was totally pain free, and now parts of it hurt that never hurt before. My back feels both loosey-goosey, and tight. Will my pain be cured? I don't know, but my pity party is over.

PS Cville runners, the C10M training program begins next Saturday at the CHS track!! Bring it on!

Race report: W4M

My first time volunteering for this race! When I got my post, I knew that the actual work I'd have to do was minimal, and that my main job as volunteer was to bring four years' experience in the Scream Tunnel to the course. I approached my race duties as seriously as any race, set my alarm early, dressed in running gear, filled my water bottle, and did my whole pre-run routine, right down to the thing that all runners do before a long run but isn't polite to talk about. Ahem.

I arrived early, and got the most awesome parking spot - just two cars over from the entry/exit road. There is only one way in and one way out, and thousands of cars, so this kind of parking spot can literally save an hour when trying to leave. Added bonus, I got to sip my coffee and jam to my ipod while watching the parking volunteers do their thing, including one exceptionally enthusiastic and downright scary Coach Mark. The parking volunteers are given the instruction to NEVER, EVER let a car stop, and Coach Mark is the one giving the instruction, so you can imagine the fanaticism at play here. Clearly, if you're looking to burn off a few calories, parking volunteer is the way to go. Lots of jumping, running, gesticulating, and screaming.

 However, I knew that my job would mostly involve standing around, so I warmed up with an easy 15 minutes of jogging (and a few minutes of chatting as I ran into friends) before sprinting to my post, another quarter mile down the road. Sure enough, shortly after arriving at my assigned intersection, three other volunteers and a police officer showed up. I was supposed to be stopping traffic on Free Union Rd from turning on to Garth while there were runners on the course. When the cop arrived, he parked his car across that lane of traffic. Problem solved. Nevertheless, it was a fantastic vantage point for the race, so I stayed put. I was right at the start, which meant that I'd get 4 chances to see everyone! One as they were lining up at the start, one as they were crossing the start, one going from left to right, and one going right to left. I saw so many friends, and it gave me great joy to scream and wave and cheer for them.

 As I was on the "outbound" side of the road, my best chance for seeing people I knew was as they were headed toward the turnaround. This would be pretty close to the halfway point. At that point, the crowd has thinned a bit, so you finally have room to move, but you've still got the biggest hill and half the course to go. Some well-timed cheering here can help push a runner up the hill - convenient parking isn't the only reason the Pink Ladies pick this as their designated cheering spot.

 I saw and cheered for almost everyone I was expecting to see, and lots of people I wasn't. I think I had the most fun cheering for Jen of Jen on the Edge. Ever since I saw this blog post, I have been waiting for the perfect moment to scream "knock knock, motherfucker." And as Jen, looking rad in purple!! came into sight, and I knew, I just knew, that she's one of a handful of people who would actually like someone to yell the M F word at them mid-race. And boy, what fun. I publicly apologize to anyone I might have offended. (But in my heart of hearts I am not at all sorry.) Apparently, it was exactly what she needed, because she PR'ed by six minutes! That chicken will CUT YOU!

I cheered for people coming back inbound, which at that point is about a quarter mile from the finish and nearly all downhill. Yippee! I bailed from my post at 9:30, even though the last racer wasn't in, because at that point, the police officer was still there, and the road had opened to traffic. I felt terrifically guilty eating a bagel, and not at all guilty about zipping out of the gate in no time flat, thanks to my awesome parking spot.

 Overall, this was a great experience. I'm exhausted, dehydrated, and hoarse. Spectating for 2+ hours and cheering 3000+ runners and walkers is hard work. I managed to squeeze in another couple of miles of running downtown after the race, before picking up the kids from Grammy's house. By that time it was hot, and my feet and knees were thrashed from all the standing around. I ran about the distance of the race altogether, which seemed fitting.

 Congratulations, W4M finishers! You rock!!

Dedication

It's no secret that I worship at the altar of Lorenzoni. I've been a customer at their shop for more than 20 years - my first memory of buying shoes there dates back to 9th grade. I can count on one hand the number of pairs of running shoes I've bought somewhere else in those 20 years. It's a bit fanatical for a shoe store, right?

Only as fanatical as the owners themselves. Their (grown and growing) children are fixtures in the shop as well, and I truly hope my children can embrace our family business the way the Lorenzonis have. The owners are *serious* runners, who have actually WON races. Like, broken the tape first. That boggles my mind. But somehow they manage to embrace both elites and schlubs, and welcome everyone with open arms. They know me by name, which also blows my mind. They know everybody by name. And if they don't know, they fake it, and make you feel awesome, valued, and empowered anyway.

I decided not to run the Women's 4 Miler this year. It was a tough decision, but every year I hate the circus of it, I hate running in the heat of summer to train, I hate feeling halfway burnt out just in time for 10 miler training. But I love the event and what it stands for. So this year I decided that even if I wasn't running, the least I could do was devote my Saturday morning to helping with this event.

A Lorenzoni is race director, and year after year, hundreds of thousands of dollars are raised and donated to the UVA Breast Care center right here in our community. In fact, every race sponsored by the CTC, with Lorenzonis involved, is not for profit, and all proceeds go to local causes. Hundreds of thousands every year. And in the process, people like me get and stay fit, and find themselves leading a richer life because of the support of Ragged Mountain, the CTC, and all those crazy Lorenzonis. To show you an inkling of their dedication, here are the instructions I received today for my volunteer post on Saturday:



Anyone who's ever had a training program written by Mark (which is practically everyone in this town) knows that handwriting. Yes, Mark hand-wrote and -drew volunteer instructions for the 80 gabillion volunteers. Some might scoff and say "I can hardly read that." But if you're a real runner in this town, you know that writing like your own, and will gladly decipher it, if it means being part of that family.

I will don my green volunteer shirt with pride on Saturday, and feel proud to be both a runner in this running town to end all running towns, and a volunteer, dedicated to spread the good word about my sport, and support good deeds and good health. I'm so lucky to run in a town where running is not just running.

PS For my readers who are running on Saturday, in case you *can't* decipher Mark's writing, I will be posted at the intersection of Garth and Free Union, by the Hunt Country store. I'll be on the right, about at the halfway point. Look for me and I'll do my best one-woman scream tunnel. Best of luck to you!!

Cold and shaky

I started off the week with a terrible cold. I set my alarm for the crack of dawn on Tuesday to go for a cleansing run to help clear my sinuses. I find that if it's just a cold, running usually makes me feel a whole lot better, as long as I have the energy to motivate myself to do it.

I am so glad I did! Tuesday morning was cool, chilly even, after a long spell of hot weather. I didn't wear my GPS, but I got in 2 solid miles, and though I was still a little stuffy, I felt pretty good.

Then came Tuesday afternoon. I was feeling not as energized by then. Work was humdrum, and I was preparing for a 2pm meeting when I heard a noise that sounded like our elderly HVAC system was finally giving up the ghost. And then the building started to shake! And rattle! And the HVAC noise turned into an all-encompassing ROARRRRRRRRR. I knew immediately it was an earthquake, and dove under my desk.

We don't really have earthquakes here, certainly not the 5.8 centered not far from where I live and work. At least one of the schools near the epicenter was damaged so badly that it must be demolished. Which is particularly scary, given that school was in session that day. My neighbor has a crack in her foundation. West Coasters must remember that NOTHING is built to earthquake code here. An earthquake in VA is like a foot of snow in Atlanta.

We've felt a few aftershocks in the days following, but they'll be decreasing in frequency and intensity. Thank goodness. We also got brushed by Hurricane Irene, but thankfully didn't feel the brunt of it, like areas closer to the East Coast.

Meanwhile, my cold turned from an annoyance to an actual illness, complete with fever. I have been pretty much out of commission all week, and finally this morning was able to take a long walk. Running will have to wait another day or two.

The edge of fall is in the air, and I'm excited for the fall/winter training season to begin!

Back to school - summer recap

Is anybody still out there?

I've done very little running this summer, but have managed to stay very active, and feel strong and fit. My main form of exercise has been the "mom tri" - ride my bike to the gym, pulling Sami in the bike trailer, with Max pedaling alongside. Let them play at the "kid gym" (aka gym babysitting) while I take a class, run on the treadmill, and/or lift, then bike to the pool, swim until everyone is shivering and exhausted, and just when my legs are turning to jello, bike home. Uphill. It's pretty kickin' exercise actually. But I've even been slacking on that lately - it's just soooooooooooo hot. And so humid. I've done very little running outside, and still can only manage a mile or two on the treadmill before dying of boredom.

Max starts kindergarten next week, and I'm slowly easing back into real running. I really need to get in gear. I had considered the Pepsi 10K in mid-September, but holy cats it's 4 weeks away, and 6 miles seems crazy long to me right now. I want to enjoy it, not suffer through it.

I ran into Coaches Mark and Cynthia last night at a party, and over the deafening music shouted some drivel about how awesome they are and I will be back for 10 miler training and please call my husband for all their photo needs and he's under strict orders to give the family rate to anyone named Lorenzoni because OMG I had a 12 minute PR!!!! Um, yeah, real cool there, Mama. Anyway, it was a good kick in the pants to see them, and remember that as daunting as 6 or 10 or 13.1 or 26.2 is right now as the cicadas hum and screech, I have been there before and I can get there again.

Sharpen your pencils, readers, school's back in session.

A hiatus from my hiatus

I've been enjoying my "lazy" summer. I've been running very little, but I wouldn't exactly say I've been slacking off. My 5 year old learned to ride his two wheeler, so I bought a used bike trailer and have been biking with both kids! A typical evening for us now is to eat a fast dinner, bike to the pool, swim until we're shivering, bike home, and fall asleep exhausted. Add to that weekend hikes with me carrying both Sami in the sling and my pack, and I'm pretty confident in my overall fitness level.

It was time for me to get a new pair of running shoes, and after having them in my cart for months, I finally pulled the trigger and got a pair of Merrell Barefoot Pace Gloves. I wore them around the house with the tags flapping behind for quite a while, because I wasn't sure if I should keep them or not. But I couldn't deny that they're extremely comfortable, so I snipped the tags, and decided that if running in them didn't work out, I'd definitely use them for casual wear.

I took them for the their maiden voyage - just a slow mile in the thickest possible humidity. They felt great! My main complaint is that they're noisy - the sole isn't squishy foam like regular running shoes, but a kind of plasticky tread, so every step goes tap, tap, tap. And I now realize that running in Nike Frees bears no resemblance to barefoot running. Still, I could see switching back and forth between the Frees and Merrells. I don't think I have any desire to ever lace up my old motion control shoes ever again.

In other news, registration for the Women's Four Miler opened and closed this weekend, and I did not register. It's such a circus, and I don't really want to put myself through that, especially since I'm not really training over the summer. I will volunteer on race day parking cars or something, and I think I feel much better about supporting the race and the cause that way than about paying a lot of money to spend 40 minutes crammed shoulder to shoulder with 3000 other runners. My tentative plan now is to see what the fall race schedule looks like, and maybe do a couple of 5K's before 10 miler training starts again in Oct/Nov. I'm giving serious thought to a spring half or full. But right now I'm mostly just enjoying my time off, and just running as the spirit moves me.

rest

First, a few stats:

Races run: 9
PR's: 8
Most time knocked off a PR: 15m16s off 13.1
Most time/mile knocked off a PR: 1:11 off 10 mi; runner up: 1:10/mi off 13.1
Barriers broken: 30 min in the 5K, 100 min in the 10 miler
Miles run: a lot!
Treadmill sessions: too many!
Lowest outdoor temperature on a long run: 17 degrees F
Days of training lost due to injury: 0
Long runs missed: 0
New friends: yes :)
Weight lost: 0 lbs

It's been a charmed season, that's for sure. No injury, no major illness, no major snowfall. It was tough to keep up training with the background level of busy that goes on in my life. It's been such a great season, such huge PR's. I had hoped to break 30 minutes in the 5K, but had never entertained the thought I'd break 100 minutes in the 10 miler until about mile 8. It's great, but it's hard to celebrate a great season without acknowledging that it's unlikely that I'll have such a great season next year. Or the year after.

I know, I KNOW that I have the potential to run faster, run farther. And yes, the marathon is always in the back of my mind. It took everything I had to squeeze in the training for the 10 miler, I just don't know how, with two little kids and a full time job, I could ever devote the time to training for another marathon. Yes, I did it once. But my work schedule then allowed ample time for weekday runs, The Supportive Husband was just starting his business and not nearly at the capacity he is now, I had just one child who slept all the time.

It's overwhelming to think about the kind of life I would have to lead to even begin to live up to my potential as an athlete.

So for now, I won't. For now, I'll rest on my laurels, wear all my medals at once, and sleep in on Saturdays. And when the fall rolls around, I'll take it one day at a time, one run at a time, one step at a time. When I was training for the marathon, my mantra was "one foot in front of the other." I can do that.

I just took three whole weeks off of running. I wasn't sedentary - I rode bikes with my 5 year old, walked on the beach, lifted my 2 year old like a dumbbell, hossed both kids during swim lessons.

And when I finally went for a run again, it felt like home.

Race Report - Park to Park Half

To say I've been unmotivated to train since the 10 miler is an understatement. I slogged through the last five weeks halfheartedly. I didn't even do the 11 miler on my program - it was pouring rain that day, so I did five that day, and five the next, and figured that was close enough. I did just enough to feel like I wouldn't totally bonk today. My main goal was to beat my previous PR of 2:29 and change. My realistic but gonna have to work for it goal was 10:30/mi. My realistic but really gonna have to work hard and race smart goal was 2:15, about 10:15/mi.

Yesterday was a crazy day, and certainly not the kind of day I'd like to have before a race. I didn't hydrate enough, I didn't rest enough, and because I needed to watch footage of the Royal Wedding, that I missed because of my crazy day, I stayed up too late.

But once I dragged myself out of bed this morning, I was in a surprisingly good mood this morning, and was ready to go. It was chilly, and I waited until the last possible second to put my long sleeved shirt into my drop bag which went into the official bag drop vehicle, a volunteer's Volvo wagon.

The national anthem was sung, and we were off. Unfortunately, the first few hundred yards were through grass that was sopping wet from dew. So I was cold and wet starting off. It took a good couple of miles to shake the chill, but the sun soon topped the trees. The course rolled through farmland, with some truly spectacular mountain views. I had a good rhythm going.

One of the great things about a small race is that people are so friendly and willing to talk to you. I had nice chats with some women, and we leapfrogged back and forth most of the race. I was concerned about going too fast too early, so I did my best to take it easy in the first half.

Around Mile 6, one of the volunteers shouted "you've got a mile downhill around the bend!" and I used that downhill for all it was worth, running my fastest mile of the race in 9:44. I knew there was a lot of uphill in the later miles, so I was glad to have some time in the bank.

At mile 10, I was pretty much toast. It was clear that I didn't have the training to really finish strong, especially when a strong headwind started blowing hard, just as we entered the most uphill portion of the course. I kept a pretty steady pace, though, and I crossed the finish in 2:13:56 - more than a minute faster than my goal, and more than 15 minutes faster than my previous PR! Not bad for feeling kind of half-assed about the whole thing.

Since it was point to point, I had to wait for the shuttle bus, and then endure a 15 minute ride back to the start while my tummy started complaining. I'm not sure why I'm having awful tummy troubles after races these days - I am off gatorade, and still having problems within 30 minutes of stopping running. Maybe my old standby recovery drink, chocolate milk, isn't such a hot idea any more. I'll go with soy next time around.

So what's next? I don't know! For the first time since last June, I have no races on the horizon. I'm planning on reclaiming my Saturday mornings for a while, hanging out at the pool, going to yoga, and otherwise having a lazyish summer. I'll still run, but only as the spirit moves me. I'm looking forward to coming back in the fall, ready to do it all again. Blog entries will be light to nonexistant on this semihiatus, but don't delete me from your Google reader. I'll be back in fine form soon enough.

One Shot

As I'm writing this, the rain is tapping on the roof. More rain is expected tomorrow - my last long run before the half marathon that will mark the end of this training season. The last several months have been a constant battle to motivate myself, getting up at 6am in the dark during the winter, putting on yaktrax, miles upon miles on the hated treadmill. So many times I wanted to skip just one workout, sleep in on a Saturday just once instead of meeting up for a long run. Last Saturday I ran in the pouring rain, and tomorrow looks to be more of the same. Yesterday I met a bear a half mile in to my run, but rather than flee to the safety of my car, I picked a new route and did the miles. That's not to say I've been perfect, but I have rarely missed a day, and most days I even did my scheduled mileage.

Why do I do it? Missing one workout is not a big deal. Is it?

On my iPod, as many runners do, I have the song Lose Yourself by Eminem. I rarely run with headphones, except when I'm on the treadmill. I can't face a treadmill workout without them. And I always play this song. The opening lines are:

Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?

That one shot, that one opportunity isn't the big race. Every workout, every run is its own shot. You can't have success on the big day without treating each and every run like that one day, one run, one mile, one step is the most important you've ever run.

I post occasionally about junk miles, but the truth is that those are the most important. You can't run big without starting small. All those tiny pieces build your body and mind, and missing even one means that you didn't fulfill your potential. Even when it's cold, rainy, dark, snowy, treadmill.

So tomorrow morning I'm going to get up in the cold rain and go run.

Feet fail me not this may be the only opportunity that I got

Grin and Bear It

I went for another trail run on this perfect, perfect day. This time I brought water, and had thoroughly plotted my route ahead of time, so there was no chance of getting lost. I headed up the fire trail, aiming to do a tough climb with a more gentle downhill, totaling about 2 miles, with maybe a .5 mi spur on an intersecting trail.

Last time, I got less than .5 mi up this same trail when I got whupped by the climb (it is seriously steep, even by foothills standards) and decided that I must be on the wrong trail and turned around. This time, I knew for sure that if I stuck it out for another .1 or so, I'd have a nice level run for a bit, and then a more gradual downhill.

As I was in the steepest part and struggling a little to keep running and not slow to an actual walk, I turned a sharp corner and there was a bear!! We weren't more than 15 feet from each other. This isn't the first time I've come across a bear while running (it's the third, see this post for my first sighting, and I don't think I blogged about the second), and since we live in a stone's throw from a national park where we have occasionally seen them while hiking or driving, they're not uncommon. But for whatever stupid reason, I had forgotten to put my RoadID back on my shoe, and I'd left my cellphone in the car and I was by myself, so if that bear was going to get me, it could be who knows how long before anyone found me.

Being mauled is kind of a phobia of mine, though I even hesitate to call it a phobia, because shouldn't one be scared of being mauled? It's not like my phobia of mangoes, which despite the oil in their skin being distantly related to poison ivy is pretty much irrational. No, when you live in bear country, you need to have a healthy respect for them, even though in all my 36 years here, I've never heard of anyone having any problems with bears more significant than the bears destroying garbage cans and bird feeders.

As it was my closest sighting while running, it also seemed the largest, though it's quite possible it actually was the largest of the three since the second one was a cub. My rational mind knew he meant me no harm, and was just meandering about, enjoying the nice weather and snuffling around for whatever it is that bears eat in early spring. Grubs? Rodents? And I didn't have any food on me. So of course, I screamed like a little girl, shouted "OH FUCK!" as loud as I could, turned around and high tailed it back down the trail. The bear, of course, said "WHUMPF!" and turned around and high tailed it back up the trail.

Not wanting to re-encounter the bear, I ran down the hill, and to a different trail which is in sight of the parking lot and fishing docks, where I had the pleasure of seeing fresh bear tracks in the mud. I finally decided not to tempt fate, and tried to head back to the car on the trail closest to the water and the people, but it got narrow enough that the poison ivy was closing in on it, so I just bailed entirely, and committed to getting my feet wet crossing the spillway back to the road.

As time and distance goes, it was pretty much a bust, but my POE was off the charts, and I'm pretty sure I got an awesome, adrenaline induced cardio workout, so I'll take it. Bear and poison ivy and wet feet were still better than knocking around on the treadmill.

Hitting the trails

It has been a long time since I've done any trail running more trail-y than a fire road. All the stars aligned today, and I hit the park near my house to test the waters. The park consists of a small lake with a beach open for swimming in the summer, a playground, and a picnic area nestled into a valley, and a network of trails that go up and over and around the mountains that ring the little valley. The Supportive Husband and I have taken the kids hiking there many times, and I decided to take one of the longer trails for my run today.

I had never been on that particular trail before, missed the sign for it, convinced myself I was on a different trail, so backtracked after a half mile and returned to the parking lot. I hopped on a different trail, met up with the trail I had meant to be on the whole time, then decided at the spur of the moment to take an intersecting trail that eventually met up with one of the trails we take the kids on. I found it with no trouble this time, and by the time I was back at the car for good, I'd logged just over three miles at a blistering 14 min/mile pace.

It took me quite a while to get into a good groove. I'm used to running being so thoughtless and automatic. It was a whole different experience to have to mindfully place every footfall. I had to cross streams, tiptoe over root systems, avoid loose rocks, climb mountains, descend mountains, navigate switchbacks, and pick myself up after losing my footing on a steep, leaf-covered goat path. It was oh so gentle on my feet and joints, but now all kinds of previously dormant muscles are reintroducing themselves to me. Who knew that just a little change in what was underfoot could make such a difference in my running to both my mind and body.

It was a great break for my mind to have to concentrate on all those other things. I don't think I looked at my watch a single time until the parking lot was in sight. When I wasn't busy placing my feet, I was busy listening to woodpeckers and admiring the view from the backside of the mountain.

What great timing for this run - I've been feeling post-race malaise and lack of motivation since the 10 Miler, and I'd been regretting signing up for the half at the end of the month. I'd been wanting to just bag it, to run when the mood struck rather than when my program dictated, and spend my weekends just hanging out with the kids. Now, I know I can put in the miles for the next few weeks until the race, as long as I've got a few trails runs as a reward.

Race report - Cville 10 Miler

Record breaking freakout this week. Clearly, that works for me.

The 10 Miler started extra early this year, due to conflicts with baseball, softball, and lacrosse games that take place in the same area as the start/finish and whose spectators need the roads and parking lots. So it was pretty disorienting to arrive and warm up in the pitch black. I met up with my crew, used the ladies room (it was actually the men's room, but the ladies had taken it over, and only the most courageous of men braved the urinals in there), and fiddled with my layers. It had been forecast to be in the low-mid 30's, but the thermometer on my car read 40 when I pulled in, so I took my chances and went with a short sleeve shirt over long sleeves, ear warmer, and no gloves.

We lined up waaaaaay in the back. And finally, the crowd started to move. My nervous energy was peaking, and it was good to be lined up in the back where I couldn't go out too fast if I tried. I crossed the first half mile in 6 minutes. I picked up the pace a little, and did the first mile in 11:00 flat. I'll admit, it freaked me out to be 45 seconds off my goal pace, but I knew that I could leverage the downhills to make it up.

And leverage I did! I know the course so well now, I know where every turn, every pothole, every downhill is. I can anticipate them, and get ready to turn on the speed. My first chance was around the back side of the stadium, and I surprised myself how fast I was going downhill. I surprised myself even more on the uphill, where I was passing every single person I came to. I didn't even feel like I was working that hard - I was taking Coach Mark's advice and not pushing myself uphill.

About this time, I came across one of the women I ran with occasionally during training. We ran together for a bit, and then I asked her what her goal for today was. She hemmed and hawed about just running to feel good, and then said that when she ran a marathon a few years ago, it was at a 9min/mile pace. I told her about my 10:15 goal, and, as well she should, she pretty well ditched me after that.

Around the stadium, past the AFC, and then the right on McCormick for a long, relatively flat stretch. I knew that I could conserve some energy on this portion, because The Downhill was coming. The biggest, screamingest downhill comes at the end of mile 4/beginning of mile 5. I took full advantage of it. As full as I could, anyway. The crowd was pretty thick, and I had to bob and weave to pass people. I bobbed and weaved so much that I picked up an extra tenth of a mile, per my GPS.

Coming to the uphill at the downtown mall, approaching mile 5, I took a quick look at my watch and my pace chart and realized that I had picked up a lot of time on the downhill. I was well ahead of my 10:15 pace, crossing the halfway point at just a hair over 50 minutes! This was pretty exciting, but I knew the toughest parts of the course were yet to come.

There's great crowd support in the Lexington Ave neighborhood, and there was music and two unofficial but highly organized water stops, and even donut holes if you wanted them. I was in such a great mood that I just floated over the hills. Even knowing the tough hill by the graveyard was ahead didn't dampen my spirits. And then I floated up that hill, too.

Next thing I knew, I was on Water Street, starting the first in a series of tough, late race uphills. Mile 8 and the beginning of mile 9 are grueling. But I hardly felt it. I just put my head down, and up I went, passing people the whole way. Knowing that mile 10 was now a downhill, I knew the pain of 8 and 9 was only temporary.

One last gulp of water before the mile 9 turnaround on McCormick and I was home free. The new finish is spectacular. A long downhill, steep enough to let you open it up and make friends with gravity, but not so steep that you'll wreck your knees. Before I knew it, I was crossing Ivy, and I could see the finish ahead. I broke into a sprint. I did the last tenth of a mile at a 7:32 pace. I don't know where I found it, but it felt great.

Proof: me, just before the finish, sprinting like I've never sprinted before. I don't know what was up with the Comcast van. This is the only picture ever of me running that actually looks like I'm fast! (Thanks, Pete, for the great pic.)


Then in to the chute, hit my watch, and I was done! Coach Mark was taking pictures at the finish and I damn near knocked him over while deafening him with my screeching "I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR!!"

You heard me, readers. I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR.

Final chip time: 1:38:30, 9:51 pace. Just one second off my 8K pace, can you believe it?

I got my medal, chatted with friends, grabbed a bagel and an orange slice, and headed home, where I spent the next several hours feeling like I was going to vomit, but not minding because I SET A TWELVE MINUTE PR.

High tech

I'm glad I got the Garmin, it's the perfect place to tape my pace chart.

Right on schedule

My pre-race freak week is proceeding swimmingly. Last night I had my pre-race nightmare, and it was a doozy. Not only was I late to the race, but it wasn't just a footrace, there were many Amazing Race style challenges along the course. One involved a maze through a Chinese restaurant kitchen. Since I had started so late, and I hadn't prepared for the challenges, I ended up with a DNF because I couldn't finish the course within the time limit. It was humiliating.

In real life, this has been a tough week to squeeze in the miles, so it's a good thing I'm officially tapering. I was able to run after work two days this week, one with Sami in the buggy. Today I had an all-day work thing, so I missed my usual Thursday run. I'm planning on doing an easy mile or so tomorrow to keep my legs moving. I'm very nervous about Saturday, but all that work over the winter is now hay in the barn, and truthfully not much I do this week could improve my performance.

And look! The weather forecast is amazing.

Freak week

My last long run before the 10 Miler was this Saturday. It went fine, 7 miles at a 10:40 pace. I felt pretty crappy the whole way, and did not feel like I was going that fast. I am just now getting over the chest cold that has given me a smoker's voice and deep, throaty cough for the past week or so. On my weekday runs, I was getting just warm enough to loosen everything up so that I felt pretty good by the end. On Saturday, I warmed up, felt good, but by the end was really, really feeling the congestion in my chest. I was good and whooped by the end.

Also, my foot was hurting. For a few miles, I was convinced that I was coming down with plantar fasciitis a week before the race. When I took off my shoe, I realized what the problem was. Thursday night, I got a number of mosquito bites on foot, three on my arch. I have an unusually strong reaction to mosquito bites, and by Saturday morning, they were so swollen that they looked like one giant welt, and of course every step was pounding on this welt. No wonder my foot hurt. Here's what they look like tonight:

(My foot doesn't realy look that weirdly elongated, it's the angle and the macro setting.)

Not so bad, but this is day five after the bites, when most normal humans wouldn't even have a mark. Saturday night, they were so itchy and painful that I actually took a Benadryl. I hate it - I only take Benadryl when I have no other options. The last one I took was when I had a bad case of hives about 7 years ago. I took a single child's meltaway, and spent 24 hours being groggy and sluggish. And my foot still itched.

So here I am, days away from the race, with an itchy, painful foot, the remnants of a cough and cold, and pumping my body full of performance-reducing drugs. Once the Benadryl wore off enough that I had a return of cognitive function, my pre-race freakout started. I think 5 days before race day is a new record for me.

I tried to silence the demons with a run after work tonight, but running in the heat freaked me out. I'm trying to embrace the anxiety, and harness it. I've got 10:15 on the brain, bad.

tune up - MJ8K race report

I didn't really have my pre-race freakout, Sami took care of that for me, having her first ever (and hopefully last) night terror night before last. If you have never experienced this, it is truly unsettling. Your toddler screams and cries in her sleep, is unconsolable, and there's nothing you can do but wait it out. So I didn't come in to the race as rested as I would have liked. Add to that the cold that I've been fighting working its way down in to my chest, and I was basically treating this run like a training run.

But when I got there, I felt pretty good. I warmed up for a mile, and the congestion started clearing up. The weather was great, chilly, but not super cold. I saw lots of friends, and was in a great mood by the time the crowd finally started moving. I wasn't exactly sure where the start line was (I hit my watch at the balloon arch, but I was almost .1mi short at the end, so I'm pretty sure the start was farther back).

I started running with a friend, and we chatted and braced ourselves for the hills ahead. The hill in Lexington, near the 1 mi mark was pretty killer, and I was glad I had warmed up before the race. The course twists and turns, and I'm never exactly sure of the route ahead, but I did know that after a lazy downhill down the Mall, there was that killer hill up McIntire. I put my head down, shortened my stride, pumped my arms, and ran up that hill. I looked up at the top, and realized I'd left my friend behind.

As you might imagine, there's a big downhill after this big uphill, and I took full advantage of it, and flew down. Some twists and turns, and then another massive, killer uphill. This hill is my nemesis, and I don't think I've ever run the whole thing. It is long and it is steep. And I RAN up that long and steep hill.

I took a well deserved gulp of water at mile 4, just on the other side of the hill, and set my sights on the finish. I ended up very close behind another runner as we made the final turn before the chute, and I was thankful that she kicked it in to high gear, too so that I didn't have to either awkwardly pass her or feel like I could be finishing harder.

And that was it! I was done, and my watch said 47:57. Truthfully, I was probably about 30 seconds slower than that, since I hit start after I crossed the actual start. But my overall pace on 9:47 and my freakin' awesome negative splits are right on the money. I can't believe with the two most killer hills in the second half of the race that each mile was faster than the next.

(UPDATE: Official gun time was 48:46, 9:50 pace; no chips at this race, but I figure it took about 30 sec to cross the start.)

I've been on a great streak of meeting goals and setting PR's, and I hope I can keep it up for the 10 miler in two weeks. Between now and then, I need to seriously consider my goals for the race. My goal of 10:30/mile might be too conservative. I've trained so hard, and had a magically wonderful snow- and illness-free winter that it would be a shame to not try for something a little faster. I have never had a streak of more consistent training, and with two little kids, I'm not likely to again any time soon. Based on my 5K's, my 2 mile time trial, and now today's race, I think that 10:15/mile is definitely within my reach.

To put it in perspective, my previous PR's in both the MJ8K and the 10 miler were in 2007. The 8K PR was 10:43/mi - almost a minute/mile slower than I ran today. My 10 miler PR a few weeks later was 11:10/mi.

It's terrifying to set a goal of 10:15, knowing that I might not reach it, especially knowing that I'd be really, really close. After meeting or beating all my major goals this season, I would be crestfallen not to meet the goal I'd been working for all this time. But what's the point of setting a safe goal? Would the woman who ran a marathon while still nursing a 10 month old set a safe goal?

Go big, or go home.

10:15, here I come.

it's all downhill from here

12 mile run this morning. 11:13/mi, which is acceptable for a training run, but almost a minute slower than I hope to run the race. The good news is that I got to try out the new finish, and boy is it ever fast! The last mile of the usual course takes you through a series of rolling hills that are murder on every part of your body including your psyche after 9 prior hilly miles. The new last mile takes you down, down, down, down, and then down a little farther.

Today's run I had textbook negative splits for about the first half, and then my splits started creeping back up. Long story short, I took gatorade again (will I never learn?) and at mile 10, even though my legs, heart, and lungs felt fine, I had to screech to a halt and walk for about 5 minutes to avoid unpleasant consequences. Ida walked with me, and we were running again less than a half mile later, but I was not feeling my best. Still, we hit that last mile and without even trying, did it in 9:30.

9:30, people! If I can do that whilst trying not to vomit (or, um, anything else, ahem), at mile 12, then surely I can do that or better at mile 10, with no gatorade on board. Oooooh, I am so liking this. I'm really starting to think hard about my race strategy. I want to run 1:45, which is a 10:30 pace. I think I can actually do significantly faster than that, but I don't want to blow my whole race by going out too fast, and forgetting about the hills in miles 7 and 8 which are killer. But knowing that I've got a super fast last mile, that will allow me to comfortably keep it slow in the beginning, knowing that I can make up a minute or more at the end.

Only two more Saturday runs before the race! Both are 7 miles - the MJH8K plus warmup/cooldown next weekend, and just a straight 7 the week before the race. The past couple of weeks have not been good for me, training wise - I've traveled twice, I've been fighting a cold, and both The Supportive Husband and the kids have been sick. This coming week especially I really want to focus on getting those weekday miles so that I can feel confident that I've prepared as well as can be for the 10 miler.

and one more thing

Speaking of challenges and victories, I ran a 5K on Saturday, and got another PR! I ran the two miles from my house to the start, and was holding back enough so that I'd have enough juice to get home, and lo and behold, despite the cold and the wind, and despite dying on the hills in the last mile, I beat my New Year's time by 9 seconds. Go me!

in pursuit of victory

I haven't been blogging much - my training is a little bit on autopilot. Nothing earth-shattering, no epiphanies happening on Saturday mornings. It's not very interesting to contemplate the same old same old.

I did go to the shop a week or two ago to adjust my program. I had two main concerns. First, I want to run a half-marathon at the end of April, and I needed to add on the appropriate recovery and training weeks after the race. Second, I'm having trouble getting my midweek mileage in. Six miles on a Wednesday just isn't going to happen. I've been trying to run more days, and many days I was waking up to run a few miles in the dark and cold, and then slogging out a few on the treadmill. Cynthia immediately unburdened me, and put X's through my 6 mile midweek runs. She told me that she didn't start training seriously until her youngest was 10. And it takes her a fraction of the time to run 6 miles. Apparently, the demands of parenting don't discriminate based on how many times you have won the Marine Corps Marathon. By the time Cynthia and I were gabbing about kids and parenting, Mark was able to join in.

Can I tell you how humbling and inspiring it is to have the full attention of two of the sport's greats? I'm barely even a middle of the pack runner, and at that moment, I felt like my training program was every bit as important as anyone with an outside chance of winning a major race. And you know what? It is. To Mark and to Cynthia. To me.

Running has the great gift of meeting you exactly where you are, yet always presenting a greater challenge, no matter your level. My goals may not be as speedy as as an elite athlete, but they are the goals of an athlete nonetheless. My 10:15 stretch goal pace for the 10 miler is no less significant to me than the eventual winners' will be to them. I'm proud to be part of a sport that has room for everyone, and room for everyone to grow, stretch, and be challenged.

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!!!)