Reflecting the Conditions

It's race season again.

Sunday morning, I'll run my first stand alone 10K since April 2012.  And really the first one I've raced since 2008.  My current PR for a 10K was set at Age Group Nationals last year, where I ran a 46:46.  I've been thinking I should improve upon that this weekend, but doubts are creeping in.

I was putting away laundry last night and paired a set of running gloves.  That means some time in the last week and half, I ran in temps under 50.  Today the max was 93.  Sunday at 8am, it's supposed to be 72 degrees and 81% humidity.  Acclimatization will be an issue.

Then there's the course.  This is by no means a flat course, or even AGN with its steep but short hill, then slow decline for 5 miles.  This is a steady 4 mile climb.

Finally, there's a feeling that having spent most of my off season working on distance, that my speed may have suffered.

Then there's just the general level of distraction going into this race season.  For the last two years, I've had Age Group Nationals as the cornerstone of my season.  All races, every mile trained, led to Nationals.  At the end of the 2010 season, I knew I was going to Nationals 2011, and I knew I would want to go back to improve upon them in 2012.  I also knew that in 2013 Nationals would leave New England.  I could go back this year, but my desire to travel by plane for a race is negative.  Without this season anchor, tri season feels a little adrift.

I had planned the Newfound Lake Triathlon for this weekend, but it was cancelled.  I had planned the New Englad Trifest for the end of June, but had to cancel because of our honeymoon, which we in turn postponed because of work and buying a house.  A yes, there's also that.  In July, we'll become home owners.  After just over a year of searching and seven (yes, 7) offers, we are closing on a house in Belmont, just 4 days before my first tri of the season.  I have just 3 triathlons planned for this season.  I've tried to offset that with races like this 10K and a Trail Ragnar in West Virginia, the types of races I usually can't allow myself to do because of my triathlon goals.  And I am excited, especially for Ragnar, but it's just not the same as that goal that you build to for a year.

Where does that leave me on Sunday morning?  Newton. Running a 10K.  Trying my darndest to hold 7:20s.  And remembering that my performance is reflecting the conditions of the race and of my life, not of my effort or preparation.

Finishing the Race

It wasn't the sunny, clear day we had back in April, but it was lovely nonetheless.  For my long run today, I ran into Boston, to the finish line of the Marathon to watch thousands of runners complete their race.  

Crowds starting to gather

It was tear-filled, cathartic and soggy.  And it was wonderful to cheer on the runners.  It was also awe-inspiring to see our police out there supporting the runners, clearing the roads, watching the crowds, just like they do every year.

Here they come

Copley Square Memorial

I love this running community, and I want to keep this communal feeling.  Running can be an isolated experience, so from now on, I'm waving when I see people running.  6 minute miles or 12, if we cross paths, I'm gonna wave and smile.  We're a part of a secret club, and this is our handshake.

Plan C

R and me, pre race

Paul and I stayed the night after the marathon with friends A and C in Virginia.  The day before A asked me if there were going to be tears if I didn't hit my goal.  I told him that I thought there would be tears regardless, but that if I didn't hit Plan A then so be it.

I didn't hit Plan A.  I didn't hit Plan B.  I mostly hit Plan C, with a little bit of D in there too.  You know what the best moment of the race was:  deciding to give up on Plan B, and not just because I allowed myself to hide behind a car for a quick pee.

Corral 6 at the start

I ran Plan A solidly through mile 6.  Then we hit The Hill.

Let's just pause a moment to discuss the courses elevation.  I studied it of course.  But most of these profiles tend to make mountains out of molehills.  All of the profiles below are from mapmyrun.com.  The first one makes it look like you'll need poles to summit that hill, so I consulted the second which shows a max grade of 2% on that hill, not so bad.  Except that the second graph is basically not using a high enough sample rate.  If I zoom in on just the hill, it reveals the 3rd graph AND 7-9% grades!  That hill was a little beast.  My coach had mentioned this hill, but I had brushed it off as only 2%, imagine my surprise when I saw this thing towering ahead of me.  My face was roughly 8% grade purple.

 

 

Back to the plan.  Alan had warned me to not get worried if I fell behind pace on the hill, that I'd make it back up on the downhill.  I ran an 8:45 up the hill, so slower than desired, but I'm not worrying.  I just keep cruising, trying to remain loose.  I clocked my half marathon at 1:45:51, about a minute behind Plan A, and right on Plan B.

The half marathoners pealed off, and it was clear how few marathoners there actually were.  The race was advertised as a 30K person race, but it was actually 20K half marathoners and 3.5K marathoners.  It felt lonely and quiet from there on.  It felt more like a half ironman run.  You've just finished this long athletic endeavor, and now you've got to run 13.1 miles.  It felt like this is where the race really began

My heart rate hadn't recovered from the hill.  I would try to concentrate on running smooth and taking advantage of any slight decline, but it didn't seem to matter.  My heart rate was 180 bpm, and it was going to take drastic action to get it back down to 170 bpm.

I pondered this for a few more miles.  What makes 170 the magic number.  Maybe I could hold onto my pace and my 180 heart rate for 13 more miles.  At mile 15, I tried to focus on seeing Paul at the 20 mile mark.  At mile 17, it was clear:  I was not going to make it at that pace.  I was going to need to return to Plan C:  drop the pace til the HR is back under 170, then maintain that pace.  I thought a bit about whether switching to Plan C was just fulfilling the doubts I had going into the race.  But the numbers didn't lie- I wasn't running Plan A any way you looked at it.  Switching plans didn't feel like giving up.  It was a relief to stop having to decide to not slow down.

At mile 20, I saw Paul.  He had ventured out to give me a light jacket in case it rained (it only just sprinkled, and by the time I saw him, it was sunny and low 50s).  It was so good to see him.  I gave him the "thumbs sidways" sign, panted "Plan C" and kept on trucking.  Heart rate down to 170, pace well into the 9:00s.

Heading to the finish

The last six miles were grueling and boring.  Without a good sense of the area it was hard to know what to anticipate.  Having the race broken into miles (I usually train by time, long runs broken mentally in ~30 minute chunks) only reinforced how plodding it felt.  The course itself had five different out and backs.  The worst one is below.  You run down from the top, over a bridge, and you see runners making the turn off to your left (at the bottom), only to realize there are more runners on the bridge parallel to yours, so you have to go over that bridge, turn around, cross the highway a 3rd time before finally going the way you anticipated.

When I finally approached the finish line, I mostly I just felt tired.  I didn't really feel this overwhelming sense of accomplishment.  It wasn't like the posters.  I was the same person who started the race.  I don't know what I expected exactly, but I guess I expected more than strong desires to 1) find Paul, 2) sit down 3) drink more water, and 4) inspect my toes to figure out why they felt so wiggly (answer below).  Other than feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of navigating the finishing chute maze of food, burrito wrappers, volunteers, water, medals, and runners to find my husband, there was no risk of tears.  In fact I was much more emotional at the start of the race, waiting for my corral to be called, shedding a few nervous, excited tears.  In the end I was just happy to be done.  I felt satisfied, but not changed.

Odds and ends:

• Having dinner with my coach the night before the race was such a treat.  It was fabulous to meet his wife and share a meal with them before my first marathon.
• I've definitely been spoiled by Boston.  This race was sorely under-resourced.  Sure having bands on the course is a unique experience, but you don't really hear much of them.  And the water stops were just chaos.  Some stops had no volunteers, just cups of water set out in advance.  For the mid-to-back-of-the-packers, there weren't even any of those left.  Not cool, Rock 'n' Roll.  Not cool.
• I wore my BTT top and got 3 or 4 "Boston!" cheers.  Those were awesome.
• I relied on my virtual partner for pacing, which didn't work quite the way I had planned.  I ran a slightly longer course (26.5), as you do with other runners and many, many turns.  But even the smallest variation say 1.01 miles instead of 1.00 resulted in a time that was off by a few seconds.  I'd think I was running an 7:55, only to clock in at 8:02 on the mile markers.  Furthermore, I thought that on laps the virtual partner would reset my distance, but it did not.  So I continued to get further ahead of my virtual partner, while in reality getting further behind.  After a few miles, I switched to using average lap pace, which at least reset at each mile.

All done

Well, if you're still with me, I'm assuming this means you want to hear about the wiggly toenails.  If not, then read no further.  When I finished, I had at least one toe on each foot that just felt weird.  Once I found Paul, I removed my shoes to find that I had one toenail on the left foot and two on the right where blisters had formed up under the nail.  I've heard about people losing toenails to long runs, but I've run long and I've never had an issue.  Plus, I always thought that your toenails would turn black or something first, and that the nail was separating from the nail bed.  Well, not in this case at least.  It seems the blister is not between the nail bed and the nail, but between the nail bed and the tissue below.  This means that the nail looks almost totally normal, just a tad bit paler than the other nails, but that it's basically floating on a detached nail bed.  It feels like a loose tooth.  It is bizarre.  It has made putting on socks the most dramatic part of my day.

Plan A

Four days to go.

I swear my heart skipped a beat when I saw the "Final Instructions and Important Race Information" email in my inbox this morning.

Here's what I know as far as spectator information goes:

• My race number is 6028 (out of ~30K) runners
• I'll be in Corral 6.  The race starts at 7:30, with corrals departing at 1-2 minutes apart, meaning my start time should be somewhere between 7:36 and 7:42
• You can get text alerts for my progress, here.  That link says 7 updates, but the race packet says they're only taking splits at 5 locations (start, 10K, halfway, 20-mile, finish), so your guess is as good as mine where the other two splits come from.
• If you happen to be in DC and want to see the race, the course with nearest metro stops overlayed is here.

The starting chute: That's two blocks of corrals!

 I got my race plan from my coach a few days ago, and it's pretty straight forward:  Start at 8:00 miles, hold that pace for 26 miles, kick it for 0.2 miles.  But that's just Plan A.

There's a Plan B, a Plan C, a Plan D and a Plan E.  Plan E is to alternate walking 100 steps and running 100 steps.  So, there's quite a big divide between A and E.  I hope I never see E.  But it's also comforting to know that there is a plan should everything go to shit, and it's a good reminder to respect this distance.

With those details taken care of, I'm getting a little wrapped up in all the non-essentials.  How will I get 10oz of gel to DC on a plane? [I'll check a bag, but Paul, rightly points out I should bring my running shoes in a carry on.]  Where to get dinner the night before?  [I was seriously considering bringing my own dinner, until my friend, marathoner, and former DC-er, R came through with a solid recommendation.]

Then there's what to wear.  Until last week, I really hadn't thought about it, just figured I would dress to the temperatures, and I hoped it would be warm enough for shorts.  Last week, R (different R from above), asked me if I'd have my name on my gear, so people could cheer for me by name.  In watching the Boston Marathon, I've always enjoyed calling people out by their names.  But damnit, this sounded crafty.  R even suggested outlining iron-on letters in glitter paint.  The craftiest thing I've done recently is to make curtains, out of curtains.  And then you've got a shirt with your name on the front of it, can one train in that shirt after the race?

Here's my Plan A: if the weather cooperates (i.e., temps ~45), I'll wear a black long sleeved shirt with my tri team jersey on top (yay, BTT).  But if it's cooler (most sources tend to agree on upper-30s degree starting temperature) or wetter (also, 40% chance of rain), then I'll add my pink windbreaker.  It doesn't have my team or my name on it, but it's seen many, many miles with me, so I know it will perform well.  Here's to Plan A, and being ready for anything else that gets thrown at me.

One Last Long Run

Three weeks from yesterday, I'll be toeing the line at my first marathon.

Mid-point of my longest run ever: end of the bike path in Bedford.

Yesterday morning, I ran my longest run ever and my longest run before the marathon: 20.8 miles, which should also mark the start of my taper.  Despite having trained for this 23 weeks, I don't feel quite ready.  My biggest concern is that my long run pace has been significantly slower than the 8:12 pace I'll need to maintain to hit a 3:35 goal.  The last hour of yesterday's run I ran on 8:12s, but that was downhill, my net-graded pace (estimation of the pace on the flat) was 8:20.

But whether I run the marathon in 3:35 or 4:35, I'm gonna finish.  That's all about guts, and I feel confident that I've got the guts to finish.  Training for this marathon has led to a lot of firsts:  many new longest runs ever (20.8 the latest record), many new most miles ever run in a week (40 miles this week is the latest), running the whole river loop, running to the end of the bike path in Bedford.  I've run over 525 miles in marathon training, that's one pair of running shoes sacrificed to training for the marathon.  I've run in 12 degree weather with my water bottles freezing shut.  I've run in a headlamp.  I've worn compression gear under my work clothes.

I had always considered a marathon outside of the realm of possibility for me.  With so many shin splints throughout the years, I just didn't think my body could handle that volume of running.  Sure, there have been aches and pains, and trouble getting out of chairs, but no injuries (knock on wood).  This is uncharted territory for me, and it's reinforced that there will always be new frontiers to explore.

In the next three weeks, I'll focus on the minutiae of the race: the weather, what to wear, how to tote my ~800 calories of gels, to bring my own water or rely on the course, what to eat the night before, buying plane tickets to DC (yeah, I know), and of course where to find our celebratory brunch afterward.

Here's to the taper!

Running distractions

I was talking to another runner over Christmas break.  He mentioned that he was trying to minimize all of the trappings that come with running that are not running.  He wanted a running experience that was pure:  no mental energy spent on the sport outside of the run itself.  This “naked running” ideal, where all you need are your feet and a desire to run, sounds so zen.  To run for the sake of running, without pace, without plan, without distraction is this almost holy pursuit.

And when I compare that ideal to my running, my watch, my hydration belt, my mapmyrun routes, my trainingpeaks evaluations, it feels like my training is missing the point.  Shouldn’t I just run for the love of running?

At the time, I said I didn’t think my goals could be met with that sort of training.  But what I felt was that my running was inferior to the naked run.  But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize that, for me, part of the joy of running is the accoutrement.  It’s the planning.  It’s the evaluation.  It’s executing the details perfectly for the optimal training.  

If you don’t read Mother Running Rampant, you must.  I LOVE her blog.  She is a far better runner and writer than I am.  Last week, she posted about being less ambitious in her running and how that’s counter to her experience:

My intrinsic love of this sport is shrink-wrapped in minutes, seconds, and that lovely little colon in between them. I’ve tried taking off the wrapping, but as when removing food packaging, that just makes my insides start to turn.

I read that, and I thought “EXACTLY.”

For me a run includes:

• Reviewing the plan from my coach.  
• Selecting out a route.  I have some standard routes (10 mile loop around the Mystic lakes, 2.5 miles to the river then loops, out and back on the bike path), but regardless some thought and sometimes some online mapping goes into route selection.  This step often includes reviewing similar workouts in the last month to get the most accurate expected pace.
• Planning a time (sometimes with a buddy).
• Checking the weather and making apparel choices: heavy gloves, thin gloves, no gloves; earband, thin hat, thick hat; pants, capris, shorts; tank top, shirt, long sleeved shirt, windbreaker, insulated jacket.
• Programming watch with workout (optional).  Depending on the type of workout, I may program my watch so it alerts me when my HR exceeds or falls behind the desired window
• Preparing nutrition.  Water, sports drink, gel and how to carry all of these
• Selecting safety gear.  Road ID, reflective vest, blinkies, headlamp, if it’s dark, T pass and money if it’s a long run.
• Entertainment:  I used to listen to music on my ipod.  For a while I was trying to select music with the right beat to keep my cadence up.  But, as tri season got underway and many of my runs were part of a brick, adding headphones just got in the way.  I spent the summer running mostly without audio input.  With marathon training demanding longer and longer runs, I’ve started listening to podcasts.  It gives me some distraction when the going gets tough but is also easy to tune out if need be.
• Reporting and analysis of the workout.  I upload my workout to trainingpeaks and provide feedback to my coach on how it went.

The funny thing is all that prep is what allows me to focus on my run when I’m out there.  I’m not distracted by the weather or deterred by having to make route planning decisions.  Once I’m out there, the running is pure and and the preparation makes it perfect.

Year's End

2012 has been a huge year:  getting married, getting a PR at Nationals and again at Lobsterman, starting a new job, twice!

I also topped 700 miles of running this year, despite 10 weeks of not running with the stress fracture.  722 miles to be exact.  That's over double the distance I did in 2011.  Woohoo.

Looking forward to next year, things are still feeling fuzzy.  A combination of missed workouts and no A race have led to a lack of focus.  Between holiday pool closures, a thumb cut so deep that swimming was forbidden for 2 weeks, some planned rest and recovery in response to the Chilly Half performance and now a cold, I just haven't been in a good rhythm.

Additionally, I have yet to choose my tri season yet.  Not planning on going back to Nationals this year, since it's in Milwaukee.  I've looked at races in the area and even a few in towns with family, but nothing has emerged as a clear A race.  Any suggestions?

What is clear is the marathon.  It's just 11 weeks out, and it's the only race in 2013 that I'm registered for.  And my goal is not just to finish it.  I'm going to try to qualify for Boston 2014.  For my age group that's 3:35 or an average of 8:12 per mile.  I'm a little nervous that putting a time goal on a new distance is just begging for trouble, but I also think that given my current fitness and speeds, it's not an unrealistic goal.  Despite the recent funny business, my training has been going well.  My longest run to date was 17.3 - a complete lap of the river loop from the museum of science to Watertown, which in 10 years of living in Boston, I've never done.  Two weeks ago, I did a 13 mile run, including 8 x 1 mile repeats at 7:24.  I left the house before dawn and ran to the track with my headlamp.  I watched the sun rise as I nailed my repeats - so much so that Alan has sped up the repeats to 7:15s.

Longest. Run. EVER!

Under my Christmas tree this year, was a reflective running vest and a couple of very bright blinkies.  Even if I don't know what to expect for summer 2013, I'm fairly certain January and February will include many more miles and sunrises.

Have a safe and happy new year.  See you in 2013!

Twenty Six Point Two

Maybe it's the cabin fever.

Maybe it's the rest day today.

Maybe it's the fact that registration fees increase by $30 on Wednesday.

Regardless, I am officially signed up.  Hopefully, DC will have recovered from Sandy by then.

Mental over physical

Well, that was... a bit disappointing.  28 seconds slower than last year.  The plan was to run the first 4.5 miles at a hard pace, then increase to very hard and very very hard for the last 2 miles.  I stuck to the plan, but somehow my hard heart rate translated to a 7:44 pace.  This pace felt a little slow.  And I spent those miles watching the competition pass me by, hoping that my increased effort at the end of the race would allow me to catch back up. 

At 4.5, I kicked it up a gear and finally felt like I was moving.  I passed the 5 or 6 people who had passed me in the last mile.  Then I set my sights on a woman who had started with me, but left me in the dust when I tried to maintain my effort level in the first mile.  I slowly reeled her in, and in the last half a mile, I passed 4 more women, so that felt good. 

The end results are that with a slightly slower finish, I had an 8th place in age group (versus 6th last year) out of 272.  I can't really be disappointed about coming in the top 3% of my age group, even if it wasn't the performance I'd hoped for.  This wasn't an A race, and I didn't have A race preparation, taper or mentality going into it.  Having a solid race should be a good result.  My bigger concern is that I have an aggressive goal for the Chilly half of a 7:20 pace.  Averaging 7:29 here does not build confidence.

Much more exciting (and less sulky):  my friend A had a stellar race!  She improved her time by nearly 3 minutes.  That's almost 30 seconds per mile.  She hit her goal and really raced out there today.  So happy for her.

Breaking new ground

Last week, I ran the most miles I have ever run in a single week.  My previous record was just over 27, in the week of the Chilly Half.  Last week I ran just over 30.  I know in the world of marathoners that is not a big number, but for me, this is pretty huge.  That was 30 miles in just 3 runs, nestled in amongst 2 hours of swimming and 2.5 hours of biking.  Hell yeah.

But that will likely be the longest run, I'll see for another month.  This weekend is the Devil's Chase 6.66 miler in Salem.  I'm feeling good for this race.  Last year I did this race at an average pace of 7:28, for a total time of 49:08.  My plan for this weekend is by heart rate, so I don't have a good sense of what to expect time-wise.  I believe I'm faster, but I haven't raced a 10K in the last year outside of a tri.  My best was at AGN, but that was a 7:32 pace.  So, yeah, faster.

Then in 3 little weeks I've got the repeat of the Chilly, so I don't imagine the training will get back up to 30 miles until after that.  Here, we're targeting a 1:36.  This feels legitimately fast.  And a little bit scary.

But not as scary as signing up for a marathon.  I've talked about, I've researched, I've put it on my race goals with my coach, but I still haven't signed up.  Because I'm scared.  Marathons have always been this big looming beast.  I've always had too much trouble with injury to even flirt with a full marathon, but here I am, running healthy and looking at that 26.2 boundary.  The deadline for early registration is next week. I'm sure I will register by then, so I get the discounted rate, but I just can't seem to do it, yet. It will mean many more weeks over 30 miles.  It will mean running in the brutal cold and dark.  It will also somehow legitimize the possibility of doing a full ironman at some point in my future.  Marathons are scary.

Firsts

Ok, Slacky McBlogsALittle, it's time for an update.

My first tri of the season is this week.  Really, I have no idea how it's already here.  I don't feel unprepared, I just don't feel like it can be nearly June.  I've got some transition practices to knock out over the next week, so hopefully, I'll arrive at the race course better than rusty.  But the first race of the season always feels like a bit of a craps shoot.  I've put in the hours training, but there's no substitute for a race.  I'll have to talk it over with my coach, but expect a race plan here over the next few days.

What I'm most proud of and excited by in the lead up to this race is my running.  It was mid-March before I got the all-clear to start back again.  I'm now running close to 20 miles per week, completely pain free.  It feels like a miracle.

Then there's other firsts.

This weekend was R's first half marathon.  I was stoked to cheer her on as she crossed another goal off her list.  I continue to be in awe of her determination and progress.  Halves are my favorite distance, so I was also eager for her to get a taste of the distance that you can't just go and do.  The distance that is equal parts legs, heart and brains.  And she totally rocked it.  Each time we saw her, she had a smile on her face.  She stuck to her plan and knocked out her goal.  It was fantastic!  And then she signed up for another.  I love it!

And finally, last fall when I switched coaches, I started down a path of regimented training for the 2012 Age Group Nationals Championship.  I realized that this style of coaching, though exactly what I was looking for, was not one that was super conducive with social training.  However, I've been proved wrong.  This winter I've done almost every single trainer ride with my friend A.  I've done nearly all of my swims with her as well.  She's been flexible enough to go along with my plan and steadfast enough to get me to all of my workouts.  I'm not sure I would have gotten them done without her.  (She left for vacation last week, and I'm super glad I have a taper week now, otherwise...)  

The happy byproduct of all this training with A is that she's decided she's ready to tackle her first Olympic distance triathlon at this year's Mass State race.  And she's decided to tackle it on her very own first road bike.  She's been a champ doing most of our bike rides on my road bike which is much too small for her. A few weeks ago, we went to the local bike shop and came out with a bike, pedals, shoes, a helmet, sunnies, and a saddle bag.  She is ready to roll.

So here's to the start of the 2012 season, and here's to new challenges, new goals and PRs.

On running a race

Yesterday, I participated in the James Joyce Ramble, a lovely 10K out in Dedham, MA which has actors in period dress reading Joyce along the course.  This 10K didn't really fit in with my prep for tri season, so my coach and I decided to use it as a training run.  The plan was to do a nice Zone 2 (easy) run and to not get too caught up in the competition.

We had a gorgeous day for it:  plenty of sunshine with a cool breeze.  And I got to run with my friends A and R and new friend D, who all set new PRs, so definitely worth it.  Still, there are benefits and drawbacks to running a race, but not racing it.

Benefits:

1. That is the best I've felt at the 4 mile mark of a 10K run, ever.  The thought that went through my head was "ooh, 2 more miles" instead of "ugh, 2 more miles."
2. I got to really enjoy the spectacle of the race.  The Joyce readers were fabulous.  There were a set of elderly twin women, in matching pink shawls reading in unison and a guy with a thick Irish brogue.  It was hard to really hear what they were saying, but it was still cool.  Then there were the three guys running with mullets sticking out the bottom of their headbands and American flags sticking out the top of them, singing "I'll ramble for you" to the tune of Culture Club's 'I'll tumble 4 ya.'
3. No pre-race nerves.
4. Water stops

Drawbacks:

1. The urge to pick people off is strong.  I started at the back of the pack, with the intention of running through and picking up my friend for the latter half of the race (which didn't work cause it was too small of a race).  So I got to pick people off for a few miles, but then I caught up to my pack, and it was tough to just hang and not go too hard.
2. $40 for a training run is a bit steep (though the free beer afterwards did help with that).
3. It's been a long time since I've run a 10K on its own (like 4 years).  As I was nearing the finish line, I realized that my training run was getting very close to my PR, and that if I could just pick it up a bit there at the end, I would beat it.  But I was already at the top end of my heart rate zone, so in the end I was 9 seconds slower than my PR from 2008.

Notes from Houston

We're down in Texas for Paul's sister's wedding this weekend, so that means more exploring the town via running for me. Here's what I've learned:

1. Despite being called a "speedway", the Buffalo Speedway had a speed limit of 30 mph. It was actually very pleasant to run down and had a well protected side walk on tree-lined, residential street.

2. Said speedway is also visually interesting. Maybe due to the lack of zoning, every house is different. Not just like different colors either. You get a low, brick ranch next to a stucco McMansion next to a southern charmer with big columns, a modern concrete slab and corrugated aluminum unit, and the occasional colonial. Really a pleasant distraction.

3. Despite my "hi"s and "good morning"s, the people of Houston out this morning were not very welcoming. Compare that to last weekend at lake George where all 11 people I came across said hi. Where's that southern hospitality?

4. I ran 7.5 miles this morning. My longest run since the stress fracture!

5. Finally, while I was out on the bayou, I heard a cyclist approaching behind me. I pulled to the right, and this guy on an elliptical with wheels rolled past. Seriously, I thought those things were just an Internet meme. Tey really do exist.

Becoming a runner all over again

In August of last year, my friend R ran a mile.  

Through a combination of bullying and cheerleading, I convinced her to sign up for the Somerville Homeless Coalition 5K where she crushed her goal and got psyched to do the Jingle Bell 5K.  

In preparation for that race, she allowed me to write her a training program.  I'm not a coach.  But I've read a good deal about training science, and I've executed on more than a few training plans in my time.  I know for me, one of the most important factors in my training is knowing that my coach is paying attention to my workouts.  Accountability is just not something I can enforce on myself.  Where I may lack in the certifications, I can definitely deliver on the accountability for R.  And using a few online plans, I cobbled together a plan that I thought would be enjoyable and would get R to her goal of going faster.

At Jingle Bell, R took 7 minutes off her time from SHC.  And she did some nice descending work, each mile faster than the previous.  Bolstered by her improvement, we embarked on a ~6 month plan to build to a half marathon at the Run to Remember this May.

R's new shoes,
taken, without permission, from her blog

The thing I wasn't expecting is how rewarding it has been to be part of her team.  I mean, I guess it's not totally surprising, that I might like telling some one what to do.  But, it's more than that.  Yesterday, she toed the line at her fifth 5K with a goal of breaking the 30 minute mark.  As I left her at the starting line reminding her to love, respect and then own her goal pace (I'm big into mantras, so far R is still humoring me on this), my heart was pounding.  I was so nervous and excited for her.  This was the first 5K that she was not just running:  she was racing.  

In the end, she ran a new PR by over a minute, but missed the 30 minute mark by 17 seconds.  So close.

I share in her disappointment, but I'm also so proud of the progress she's made.  She has run over 350 miles since last year.  She has run a sub-9 minute mile.  She has confidence in the things her body can achieve and tackles the hell out of her hill workouts.  The way she talks about running has changed.  Her love for running has been kindled:  she is a runner.  It's so amazing to watch this transformation, and I am so grateful that she's allowing me to share in it.

Out of practice

Tonight I ran my first run in 11 weeks.  The running part was glorious.  Everything around it was a little out of sorts.

1. I couldn't find my gloves.  They are completely gone.
2. I overdressed, which I discovered when I wasn't cold as I stood outside waiting for my watch to
3. Find the satellites and
4. Find my heart rate.
5. Forgot to turn on the alert tones on the watch, so no pleasant beeping.
6. Discovered I don't like running on the darkened bike path, even with my headlamp, it just felt a little too alone.

Looking back at my Zone two speeds (peak for 5 minutes), I slowed down quite a bit in December when I wasn't training for a race, and I was getting down on the shin.  Tonight I was right back in it with a pace just north of 8 min miles.

But most importantly, my shin felt great.  No pain whatsoever.  Time to start signing up for road races again.

Game on!

I got the all clear to run today.  It's been 11 weeks, yes, 11 weeks, since I last ran.

But tomorrow I get to run again.  I didn't think I was going to be quite so excited about it.  I mean, I don't even love running.  I've completed runs that I love, but I've also done ones that I didn't love so much. 

Still I was so excited, that when my alma mater emailed me asking for money, I sent it to them.  Let's hope the warm glow continues, but the spending spree abates.

I don't want to go home yet

It's been a while.  I started running again two weeks ago, and my shin is not better.  It's been frustrating.

Last week Paul's dad suggested that someday (someday soon) I wouldn't be able to keep running.  My shin wouldn't recover.  What the hell?  Sure, I don't expect to be running when I'm 95, but at 32?  Come on, I'm bound to have a few good years left.

Then today, one of my running buddies went to the orthopedist for some nagging quad and knee trouble and came back with a recommendation to give up running or face knee replacement.  I guess we're not invincible after all.

It's got me sorta bummed out. Maybe three weeks wasn't enough time to heal.  I've tried ART, massage, acupuncture, changed my running gait, more aleve than any one should take and so much ice.  This shin is just stubborn.

Last weekend, I ran in (but didn't race) the Jingle Bell 5K.

This race was the largest in Somerville's history and featured runners dressed as 8 inflatable reindeer, Santa with a shopping cart sleigh, and a woman dressed as the lamp from A Christmas Story.  How could you miss that?

Recovery can be fun too

It’s been almost two weeks since the Chilly Half and exactly that long since I last ran.  And I feel ok, both physically and mentally.  Yesterday, I missed my first race due to this shin splint, and I didn’t have that nagging feeling of missing out.

As I trained for the half and the pain in my shin waxed and waned, I went through periods of despair that this injury would end my bid to run my best half marathon ever.  The morning of the Somerville Homeless Coalition 5K, I made peace with the thought that I was going to need to take some time off from running and forego the Chilly Half to allow my shin to heal.  But, then the week after the 5K my shin improved.  It was still not pain-free, but I could run on it without it impacting my stride.

I picked up my t-shirt and bib for the Gobble, Gobble,Gobble 4 miler last weekend, knowing full well that only half of those items would get any use.  Yesterday morning, I went out to the race course to support my friend A as she continues to make fantastic strides in her running (serious negative split and beat her goal!), and to cheer on both BPC and BTT athletes.  As I stood at the finish line, a man next to me asked why I wasn’t running, and I replied that I was signed up but had a bum leg.  It was as if fate had sent him to tell me, “See you’re not disappointed.  Taking care of your body and not running is ok, too.”

Of course, I miss running.  Maybe it’s that setting a PR at the Chilly Half has instilled a new confidence and calm within me.  I feel a bit like a kid in a candy store:  which PR do I want to tackle next, all of them are within reach.  I’m very tempted to return to the half marathon distance again this season with an “adequate endurance base.”  

You see the week before the Chilly, my coach told me that although I would likely set a PR at the race, I did not have an “adequate endurance base for a quality half.”  Can you hear the sound of tires screeching to a halt in my brain?  WHAT? I’d been training for 9 weeks for this race, and it’s not like I was starting from a couch potato fitness level.  What Alan meant was, there’s a difference between having the fitness to go out and run a half (maybe even your best half to date) and having the fitness to run the best half your body is capable of running.  Despite the long miles I had run in preparation, I hadn’t even come close to running the 20 mile long runs for 8-12 weeks that is necessary to prepare for that best half ever time.  

Since I’ve stopped running, I’ve been swimming and biking more, and I’ve added some legitimate weight training.  For the last several months, my strength training has been limited to body-weight core exercises (think planks and bridges).  Though I enjoy these, it doesn’t compare to the pleasure of hitting the gym for bench presses and lunges.  The weight room at one time was a place that raised my heart rate just by going in.  After training with Paul two years ago, it’s no longer daunting.  I know what I’m doing, and I emerge feeling stronger for it.

My shin is improving, too.  I can run my finger over the spot that once was too sensitive to the touch and have no pain.  I’m still on NSAIDs, so I’m not quite ready to declare victory just yet, but I’m encouraged. They say that triathletes are either injured or racing or both.  My goal for right now is to be neither, so that come August I can be firmly in the racing camp.  Of course, a lot can happen between now and then:  there are no guarantees.  All I can do is put my faith in the process and enjoy the (bike) ride.

Signs of good things to come

I can now wholeheartedly recommend actually training for a Half Marathon. 

I was surprised at how nervous I was for this race.  I'd had three less than optimal runs this week that didn't do much for my confidence.  Saturday was all about the details:  what to wear, how to use my watch, what time to arrive.  Luckily, I have a very detail-oriented coach who loves getting into this stuff.  Seriously, we were discussing the blend of polyester and spandex in my tights to determine whether or not they would be appropriate for the slightly warmer than anticipated temperatures (they were).  And he gave me the ok to use not just the virtual partner, but also the advanced workouts in my garmin (so I could have a visual on pace and an auditory alert if my heart rate exceeded the prescribed zone for each portion of the race).

Sunday morning with my wardrobe approved and my watch programmed, I felt ready.  I got to the race course early, and got a great parking spot.  The race began and ended at the Newton South High School, which was great to have a structure to wait in and indoor plumbing!  I caught up with a few friends, and before long it was 7:05, time to warm up.  I ran my 16 minute warm up, ate a gel, drank some water and headed for the start line. 

Despite having finely tuned my garmin, as I was attempting to lock the bezel, I managed to start the watch.  I think about 30 seconds elapsed by the time I realized this and stopped it.  I didn't have time to reset the watch, so I just restarted it when the gun went off.  This meant that when I started running, I was already well behind my virtual partner.  I tried to stay a consistent number of seconds behind the VP.

And that worked until I got to the first hill.  You see, This course covers some of the heart break hill area from the Boston Marathon.  I've heard it referred to as the Chilly Hilly Half.  I was prepared for the "big hill" at 5.6 miles, but there was still a fair bit of "undulation" before you got there.  I decided as I floated down a hill, pulling my VP back to 10 seconds ahead of me that this was ok.  Having an average 7:45 was the goal, I can't expect to go the same speed uphill as downhill, and I might as well take advantage of the free speed on the downhill.

Touring some expensive neighborhoods in the western suburbs of Boston, the miles peeled off. It was mile 10, and I was feeling pretty good, but also getting a bit anxious to be done.  I wanted to pick up the pace, but of course the plan was to stick to the 7:45s til 11.1.  And I was very glad that I did.  I picked it up at 11 and started passing people, only to hit one last hill at 12 that allowed some one to pass me back.  Ok, none of that, keep picking people off.  Just as the finish line came into view, a woman sprinted up next to me.  No way.  I dig deep, find my last ounce of effort, and sprint past her, finishing 2 seconds ahead.

I came in in 1:40:02.  Two minutes faster than my goal and over six minutes improvement on my previous PR.  And 10th in my age group out of 154.  This race gives me a lot of confidence for the coming season.

Of course in every race, there are things that you could do better, in this one, I did not negative split.  As best I can tell I ran 49:55 for the first half and 50:04 in the second (oh, and according to my watch the course was short by about a tenth of a mile).  And the first half of the course had more climbs (247 ft versus 146 ft), so that only accentuates my getting slower over the race. 

My shin felt ok throughout the race.  Not recovered, but it didn't bother me.  In fact, right now the thing that's bothering me most is my left hip.  Maybe it was all the climbing or descending, but it's very sore.  Regardless, both will have 3 weeks to recover with no running as I take a break to try to get back to injury-free running.

Chilly Half Race Plan

The Newton Chilly Half is just 5 days away.  It will be my seventh half marathon, and the first that I've really trained for.  You see, three of those half marathons were part of half ironmans.  Totally different game.  My first half, back in Australia was just after I had moved to Brisbane, I used it as an excuse to keep myself training, but I think I only did one ten mile run in preparation.  Then two BAA Half Marathons, each on the tail ends of tri seasons where I was taking some time off from training, but not racing.  The danger of half marathons is that they are just short enough that I feel like I can just go out and run it without training.

Not so this time.  That is not the Coach Alan way.  I've been training for 9 weeks with increasing distance each week, starting around 7 miles, topping out around 11.

Race starts at 7:30, it's gonna be about 35 degrees then with winds around 10 mph.  I'm planning on wearing the same gear as the Devils Chase.  Brief warmup.  I'm gonna be racing at a 7:45 pace (hopefully with my virtual partner on my Garmin if I can get everything working right) with heartrate varying with the HILLS. 

That's right, this course has several of the hills from the Boston Marathon itself.  So, yeah there's that.

My current Half Marathon PR is 1:46.  I'm feeling pretty confident I can beat that.  If I hold my 7:45s, I'll come in at 1:42.

Finally, the most important part of the half marathon:  the BPC Brunch.  No training can prepare me for that.  See you on the course.