First 20 mile run ever today...and my oh my...it was SLOW. Steady, relentless, barely uphill and flat for 18 miles...but done, by golly it's done.
I decided that the slight uphill route was better than running it as a slight downhill, as it mimics the basic pattern of the bulk of the marathon I will be running. It's funny how each and every mile seems to be its own special torture, but I ran a faster 2nd half than first half and pretty even splits across the board. My watch stops auto-magically when I stop, so I need to turn that feature off on the next run and work on walk breaks instead of complete stops. It's amazing how much that time adds up, and I won't have the liberty of a stopped clock on race day. My moving pace today was about 0:25 off of goal pace, and my real pace (if you add in all of the stop breaks) was about 1:25 off of goal pace. According to what I have read, this is consistent with the recommended pacing for long runs.
My hydration belt was a pain in my behind today both literally and figuratively. I loosened it before the run and wore a slick pair of shorts...it kept bouncing and at about 8 miles or so I gave up and chucked it into AMA's pannier. The run got a lot more fun after that!
I seemed to handle the whole nutrition/hydration thing just about right. There was no epic bonk, and my stomach seemed to hold up okay. I took one gu every four miles. I battled some pretty intense nausea after my run, and really thought that I was going to lose the meager contents of my stomach when the train started moving. Luckily, I didn't. I waited until I got home and showered before I ate. Mac & Cheese, a Pear and String Cheese went down before the nap. I will experiment with eating something more substantial, sooner, after the next long run. Part of this was a logistic issue (long transit home, cold weather), and therefore can be remedied next time.
I tried to drink every mile until 12, with extra to get the gu's down. I thought I had hydrated plenty, as I actually needed one bathroom stop, but I was still pretty dehydrated when I got home. The bathroom stop(s) were at about mile 8 and mile 12. The one at mile 8 was aborted because I saw the gentleman who came out of the porta-potty on the right, and decided that the one of the left was a better call. However, the one on the left had a clogged urinal, the lid was down on the toilet, and the single roll of toilet paper was not on the roll, rather it was sitting next to the toilet. I picked it up to tear off a piece to lift the lid and found the bottom side to be thickly smeared with a brown substance the consistency of play dough. I was done before I began. Luckily, mile 12 presented with a rather lovely bridge with low visibility to runners on the path and the great outdoors in general!
Socially and emotionally I had a bit of a rough go of it. When AMA is there, I always feel like I should be doing more to impress him. I get frustrated that I'm not pounding out miles that are 1:30 to 2:00 faster and feel like he's going to judge me for it. I worry that I am boring him. I worry that I'm not worth HIS time and HIS effort and HIS energy. This is my problem...not his. He really doesn't seem to mind as much as I think he should. This is good practice for me for the race. I will not be anywhere near the top of my AG, which is arguably one of the most competitive AGs, in one of the most athletic cities in the USA. I can't compete with anyone other than myself, and can't do more than my best effort. Truth be told, my best effort doesn't come from being embarrassed, ashamed or stressed out by my best performance. It comes out of trusting the work that I have put in, and knowing that the success, for the first marathon, is merely finishing it.
Poor AMA, as a testament to his love for me, froze his proverbials off the entire time. Nary a complaint was uttered, and I didn't realize how cold it was for him until after I had finished my run and we were headed for the train to get home. No wonder he wasn't talkative this ride! I on the other hand was really digging the cloudy, mid 40's weather...truly perfect for running, AND we managed to make it home before it started drizzling.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Sunday, March 30, 2014
The Rub: This Time with Feeling
I don't, generally speaking, experience chafing. Sure, part of my bra has rubbed a bit on the longer runs. And then there was the time when my shirt crept up on a long run and put a pretty raw patch through my early 2000's era tramp stamp. But, by and large, this is not something I think of all that often. Frequent enough to be empathetic, but not sever or often enough to be something that rules my every waking thought. Until last week.
It was gloriously warm. Achingly warm. Holey underwear batman I might actually need to wear shorts warm. And that, my dear readers, is when the trouble began. After a few indoor runs and a bad case of the "out of laundry soap, too lazy to buy mores", I found myself with only one pair of clean shorts. A skimpy, skin tight pair that looked pretty amazing 10 pounds ago and I now can only wear in public because runners have no shame. Or skin....
I got back from a not-great-but-not-lousy cutback mileage week run and hopped into the shower. OH MY GOODNESS. The good news is that evidently I shriek "Owie" like a three year old when experiencing first shower post run chafing pain instead of a torrent of 4 letter words. At some point it occured to me that my neighbors might mistake the "oh, oh, oh" echoing from the shower for joy instead of the one man pain extravaganza. Because I am singularly bad-ass when facing raw flesh, I managed to get the area soaped and rinsed well.
I jumped out of the shower and look a look for myself. Sure enough, slightly smaller than a quarter (and feeling larger than life), was a ragged raw hole where my skin should have been.
Hello, first chafed wedgie. I hate you. You will be funny later.
It was gloriously warm. Achingly warm. Holey underwear batman I might actually need to wear shorts warm. And that, my dear readers, is when the trouble began. After a few indoor runs and a bad case of the "out of laundry soap, too lazy to buy mores", I found myself with only one pair of clean shorts. A skimpy, skin tight pair that looked pretty amazing 10 pounds ago and I now can only wear in public because runners have no shame. Or skin....
I got back from a not-great-but-not-lousy cutback mileage week run and hopped into the shower. OH MY GOODNESS. The good news is that evidently I shriek "Owie" like a three year old when experiencing first shower post run chafing pain instead of a torrent of 4 letter words. At some point it occured to me that my neighbors might mistake the "oh, oh, oh" echoing from the shower for joy instead of the one man pain extravaganza. Because I am singularly bad-ass when facing raw flesh, I managed to get the area soaped and rinsed well.
I jumped out of the shower and look a look for myself. Sure enough, slightly smaller than a quarter (and feeling larger than life), was a ragged raw hole where my skin should have been.
Hello, first chafed wedgie. I hate you. You will be funny later.
Monday, March 24, 2014
I Make Poor Choices and My Kidneys Love It!
Last Tuesday we had bad weather. It was cold, it was wet, it was dark, and I got home from work late. Never fear, Treadmill is here! Only, I was just ensconcing myself in the comforts of the mill when someone else came into our apartment's wee gym. Oh, and the other treadmill had an out of order sign on it. Damn and blast! It was right at 5, and there are about 5 (what I would call) regular treadmill users and 10-15 runners in our building.
Given the weather AND the fact that it was Tuesday (why does everyone work out on Tuesdays...no one Zeros on Tuesday), I thought it best not to monopolize the treadmill for an hour or more. It's not that I'm a nice person....its that I saw a bag full of dog poo left outside of someone's door not 2 mornings previous...and we don't live in a walk up.
So I promised the girl that I would bust out a half hour and get out of her way. I did, indeed, bust out a serious half hour and was SUPER DUPER proud of my pace. Unfortunately I still only got a bit more than half of my planned run in.
Then Wednesday rolled around. Glorious, Glorious Wednesday. I decided that since work sucked, life sucked, and the previous night's run sucked (in terms of distance), I would "make up" my missed mileage. I have been told by EVERY SOURCE ON THE INTERNETS THAT I HAVE EVER READ that this is a poor choice. But then, I make poor choices and choose to accept the consequences of my actions. It didn't seem like an outrageous number of miles (Thanks to the new long run distances!).
So, safely and firmly grounded in poor choice numero uno...I decided to launch myself into poor choice numero dos. I did not take my hydration belt even though a) it was warmer than it has been lately and b) I always carry both nutrition and hydration on runs of more than 8 miles. Throwing all logic to the wind, in an effort to just "get out and get this bad boy started", I left the house and started my run.
It felt good...then crappy...then "the tough runs are the ones that make you stronger", then worse, then "I am having trouble running in a straight line...huh". I completed my run, bobbing and weaving to the spot where I exit the bike path. Conveniently, it's only about a third of a mile from my apartment. It was a long third of a mile. I felt hung over, only I haven't had any alcohol in weeks. I felt like death. Getting up the stairs (yeah, because dehydrated girls are too dumb to use the elevator), was an act of sheer will.
I stumbled into the apartment, looked at AMA and said something like "I need your help. Don't yell at me. I need food and water now". I stumbled to the couch with shoes still on. AMA, smarter than I am, realized that unlike my usual poor choice, the deficit was water more than food. Unfortunately I guzzled down a solid 20 ounces before he could slow me down. Then my tummy hurt. We slowed the pace and continued to give me fluids. An hour or so later I finally started using the bathroom again. I was going to be fine and no medical intervention (the penultimate threat at this house) was not going to be required.
Enter Thursday. Crazy day at the office, normal routines busted up, drank about half of what I normally do. I'm a Nalgene in the morning, something with lunch, and a Nalgene in the afternoon kind of girl. Usually my Nalgenes have some sort of tea in them, but super diluted and probably at a tea leaf to water ratio that would make an Englishman cry. Thursday though...The morning Nalgene was mostly drunk by the time I got home that night. I threw on my running gear and got 1.65 miles down the bike path. 1.65 miles and I stopped. I felt...wrong. Head pounding, tunnel visioned, felt like mile 5 million. It was beautiful outside. The sun was shining and it was warm enough that there were loads of people on the path. And I quit. I have never, ever quit a run that early, and rarely cut runs short. Now twice in one week I was running less than I was supposed to. I just couldn't do it though. I literally walked back home, without the ability to even run back from whence I came. I went home...and I cried.
AMA told me it was dehydration and I was ordered to drink and take the rest of the night off AND to adhere to my usual zero on Friday schedule. I did both of these things. Then, apprehensively, I did the long run on Saturday. It was tough...but I did it. A new personal distance record of 18.3 miles. The pace was an atrocious 30 seconds slower than my 16 miler...but well within what the charts say the range for my long runs should be.
It was an ugly week...but I did it. And I would like to think that the doing it is what really matters. I ended up being about 5 miles short for the week, but that's okay. There was no way that I was going to try to "make up miles".
Maybe I can stop making poor choices. Maybe I can start supporting myself as much or more than I try to support my runs. And maybe, just maybe, I could try being proud of what I have done instead of being disappointed in what I have not. After all...not to long ago I could barely even fathom doing a 40 mile week, let alone the idea of being disappointed in one!
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Gone to the Dogs
I had a great run today...even with the .77 mile long overshoot on a long run day. Nothing hurt too bad, was dressed perfectly for the weather, life was good. I tried a new route which was an amalgamation of three training routes (an 8 mile out and back, and a strange little loopy thing made up of two popular parks)--liked it a lot, especially since the familiarity of the routes and finite "chunks" made it easier to manage. This was my longest outdoor run to date! I was really pleased with how friendly everyone was. I don't know if it was the cold or the sun, but I got a lot more smiles in return than I normally do.
The one thing that bugged me was some of the animal treatment that I saw on various paths today.
The first case was a youngish woman that was running with a smooth/short coated, medium sized dog. Nothing wrong there...except...that the dog was wearing a pinch collar. My understanding is that these are sometimes employed by owners of dogs with longer hair and used to correct stubborn behavior in dogs. Generally speaking, I don't like the principle, although perhaps I can respect that there may be those who disagree. As it pertains to running though, I find myself to be quite concerned. It seems to me that if one is going to take the responsibility for correcting a dog's behavior, the time to do this is not on a run. There are several reasons for this:
1) Runners tend to focus on their runs--perhaps not the best time to also try to deliver consistent animal training.
2) If a runner does not believe they can sufficiently control their animal without the use of corrective implements, my guess is that the animal may be a danger to self or others. A tired runner is not in a good position to ensure the safety of themselves, their animal, or other human beings.
3) In the event that something happened to the runner, pinch collar presents another potential danger to the dog. I hate the idea of the leash getting caught in something! There are many things that could go wrong on a run. I get the need for a leash, but also assume that any risk to a runner is also a potential threat to an animal.
4) What if the animal cannot maintain pace for some reason? I would certainly hate to see an injured or unwell animal be forced to keep up simply to avoid the pain of the collar.
The other icky animal incident I witnessed involved a man running with a small breed dog (likely a smooth coat chihuahua, although not a show animal). I was surprised to see him running with the animal, and can think of better breeds that one might choose if running with the dog was a priority. The man looked like he had settled into a fairly regular pace. I passed him, then he passed me about a mile later at a decent clip. I am concerned that chihuahuas weren't designed to do multiple mile trips at 8:00 miles---their legs are only 4" long!
Finally, I saw an owner running with an older, large mixed-breed dog. I don't know a lot about large breeds, but I do have a bit of background. The animal clearly had severe hip dysplasia--back legs close together with a strange bunny hopping gait. It was lagging behind its owner, who didn't appear to be taking note of the dog's obvious infirmity. Instead, the owner would yank the leash forward every few feet, causing the dog to lurch forward.
It's not really my place to step in and intervene with the choices of others running along the bike path. Still, I have to wonder about the choices people make. I ask simply that folks think about their choices. If you enjoy running with your animal, try to make sure that it can enjoy running with you--that your speed and distance goals are compatible with the abilities of your companion---that you acknowledge that the abilities of your companion may change over time---that you are able to manage the behavior of your companion using auditory or visual cues--that you be humane.
The one thing that bugged me was some of the animal treatment that I saw on various paths today.
The first case was a youngish woman that was running with a smooth/short coated, medium sized dog. Nothing wrong there...except...that the dog was wearing a pinch collar. My understanding is that these are sometimes employed by owners of dogs with longer hair and used to correct stubborn behavior in dogs. Generally speaking, I don't like the principle, although perhaps I can respect that there may be those who disagree. As it pertains to running though, I find myself to be quite concerned. It seems to me that if one is going to take the responsibility for correcting a dog's behavior, the time to do this is not on a run. There are several reasons for this:
1) Runners tend to focus on their runs--perhaps not the best time to also try to deliver consistent animal training.
2) If a runner does not believe they can sufficiently control their animal without the use of corrective implements, my guess is that the animal may be a danger to self or others. A tired runner is not in a good position to ensure the safety of themselves, their animal, or other human beings.
3) In the event that something happened to the runner, pinch collar presents another potential danger to the dog. I hate the idea of the leash getting caught in something! There are many things that could go wrong on a run. I get the need for a leash, but also assume that any risk to a runner is also a potential threat to an animal.
4) What if the animal cannot maintain pace for some reason? I would certainly hate to see an injured or unwell animal be forced to keep up simply to avoid the pain of the collar.
The other icky animal incident I witnessed involved a man running with a small breed dog (likely a smooth coat chihuahua, although not a show animal). I was surprised to see him running with the animal, and can think of better breeds that one might choose if running with the dog was a priority. The man looked like he had settled into a fairly regular pace. I passed him, then he passed me about a mile later at a decent clip. I am concerned that chihuahuas weren't designed to do multiple mile trips at 8:00 miles---their legs are only 4" long!
Finally, I saw an owner running with an older, large mixed-breed dog. I don't know a lot about large breeds, but I do have a bit of background. The animal clearly had severe hip dysplasia--back legs close together with a strange bunny hopping gait. It was lagging behind its owner, who didn't appear to be taking note of the dog's obvious infirmity. Instead, the owner would yank the leash forward every few feet, causing the dog to lurch forward.
It's not really my place to step in and intervene with the choices of others running along the bike path. Still, I have to wonder about the choices people make. I ask simply that folks think about their choices. If you enjoy running with your animal, try to make sure that it can enjoy running with you--that your speed and distance goals are compatible with the abilities of your companion---that you acknowledge that the abilities of your companion may change over time---that you are able to manage the behavior of your companion using auditory or visual cues--that you be humane.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Fall Down Go Boom!
I had a solid week of running. Pace continued to be upbeat for most of the week, although I had one day that was about 50 seconds slow. Body wanted recovery, so I did the required volume, but scaled the pace back a bit. It seemed to work, because the next day I was back in good form.
The weekend was perfect, with high 40's/low 50's for running on Saturday, and mid-to-low-60's for biking on Sunday. Saturday's run was odd...it started out rough with cramping low in both calves. I promised myself that I just needed to do the miles...if the pace was even two minutes slow, I would be proud of myself for finishing. What do you know, evidently it worked, because my splits the rest of the time were fan-freakin-tastic.
The bike ride started out beautifully, and I hope that the forth comming whine fest doesn't detract from that. AMA and I had a fine tail wind and clipped through almost 13 miles without a care in the world. It was sunny and felt grand. Muscles were relaxing, and once we got through the glut of people on the bikepath between Cherry Creek and REI it was smooth sailing. Knowing that Denverites are like puppies rolling in the grass on the first fine, spring like day, we opted to "go north". Heading up the South Platte River Trail is one of our favorite Sunday rides. We made it out to one of AMA's favorite suspension bridges, where he was able to get a few "product shots" of his bike that will hopefully show up in his blog later this week.
On the way back, we hit the spot that's always windy, and is even more brutal on a windy day. I had gone ahead of AMA (usually I ride behind, but sometimes I get over enthusiastic and pass for a bit). AMA generously attributes the fall to the wind. I think I am incompetent, wasn't paying attention, and found myself about to careen over the edge of the embankment. Either way, I dropped my front wheel off of the bike path, over compensated in an effort not to fall down said embankment (complete with rocks and shrubbery at its base), and fell over sideways.
I'm pretty sure it would have looked funny if I was, oh, watching it on youtube and it had circus music playing as I fell. Mostly it just hurt. I sat in the middle of the bikepath stunned for a minute, trying to similtaneously be brave, pissed off, and super-first aid lady. Okay...what hurts. I know you are supposed to start at the head and work your way down, but I went for the "Identify your injuries from hurts most to least" method. It is too a method! So...Left knee-check. Both hands-check. Side of left elbow-check (WTF, how did I get the side of my left elbow AND both palms?). Left hip---YOWZA that hurts. Left palm/wrist-internal, not road rash, something else. At some point in this proccess AMA showed up. He must have been the one who stood up my bike. He hugged me and asked if I was okay. I tried not to cry....I'm supposed to be awesome, not a baby. Shit roadrash hurts. He asked if I was cold. Stupid adrenaline was making me shake like a leaf. I poured some of my remaining water over the road rashy spots.
The Good
I got lucky, nothing was bleeding bad enough to make an ewww-y gooey mess. Most everything will scab, but nothing too awful. I was lucky that that particular stretch of bikepath doesn't contain a lot of debris...it was really pretty clean as far as road rash goes. Nothing broken. Maybe a sprain on the wrist and shoulder is kind of jacked up but nothing some TLC at home won't fix. The hip hurts, but I'm hoping the NatureMade saddle bags went to good use in protecting me from anything worse than an epic skin bruise (1 hour and it was already turning purple)
The Bad
AMA wanted me to ride out front so that he could keep an eye on me. I went sprinting off, or as "sprinting" the internal balance between adrenalin, tired legs, and head wind could manage. Didn't mean to, but it was a bit up tempo all things considered. Poor AMA was left trying to keep up with me without the benefit of adrenalin---then he had HIS go boom on a patch of ice. I felt like a jerk. for pushing it and should have forced myself to be more moderate.
The...There.
We made it home. I got washed up. Did a final non-medical-person-medical-assessment and pronounced myself "banged up". Took some ibuprofen, gorged on a bunch of random food and went promptly to bed. I feel better. We'll see how it all shakes out tomorrow, but I'm glad it's a zero day.
The Silver Lining
Girls with roadrash on their hands, a tetchy shoulder and questionable wrist get out of planks and push ups for a while!
Oh, and most importantly...it was gorgeous....the girl got to go outside...and I'd do it all again in a heartbeat!
The weekend was perfect, with high 40's/low 50's for running on Saturday, and mid-to-low-60's for biking on Sunday. Saturday's run was odd...it started out rough with cramping low in both calves. I promised myself that I just needed to do the miles...if the pace was even two minutes slow, I would be proud of myself for finishing. What do you know, evidently it worked, because my splits the rest of the time were fan-freakin-tastic.
The bike ride started out beautifully, and I hope that the forth comming whine fest doesn't detract from that. AMA and I had a fine tail wind and clipped through almost 13 miles without a care in the world. It was sunny and felt grand. Muscles were relaxing, and once we got through the glut of people on the bikepath between Cherry Creek and REI it was smooth sailing. Knowing that Denverites are like puppies rolling in the grass on the first fine, spring like day, we opted to "go north". Heading up the South Platte River Trail is one of our favorite Sunday rides. We made it out to one of AMA's favorite suspension bridges, where he was able to get a few "product shots" of his bike that will hopefully show up in his blog later this week.
On the way back, we hit the spot that's always windy, and is even more brutal on a windy day. I had gone ahead of AMA (usually I ride behind, but sometimes I get over enthusiastic and pass for a bit). AMA generously attributes the fall to the wind. I think I am incompetent, wasn't paying attention, and found myself about to careen over the edge of the embankment. Either way, I dropped my front wheel off of the bike path, over compensated in an effort not to fall down said embankment (complete with rocks and shrubbery at its base), and fell over sideways.
I'm pretty sure it would have looked funny if I was, oh, watching it on youtube and it had circus music playing as I fell. Mostly it just hurt. I sat in the middle of the bikepath stunned for a minute, trying to similtaneously be brave, pissed off, and super-first aid lady. Okay...what hurts. I know you are supposed to start at the head and work your way down, but I went for the "Identify your injuries from hurts most to least" method. It is too a method! So...Left knee-check. Both hands-check. Side of left elbow-check (WTF, how did I get the side of my left elbow AND both palms?). Left hip---YOWZA that hurts. Left palm/wrist-internal, not road rash, something else. At some point in this proccess AMA showed up. He must have been the one who stood up my bike. He hugged me and asked if I was okay. I tried not to cry....I'm supposed to be awesome, not a baby. Shit roadrash hurts. He asked if I was cold. Stupid adrenaline was making me shake like a leaf. I poured some of my remaining water over the road rashy spots.
The Good
I got lucky, nothing was bleeding bad enough to make an ewww-y gooey mess. Most everything will scab, but nothing too awful. I was lucky that that particular stretch of bikepath doesn't contain a lot of debris...it was really pretty clean as far as road rash goes. Nothing broken. Maybe a sprain on the wrist and shoulder is kind of jacked up but nothing some TLC at home won't fix. The hip hurts, but I'm hoping the NatureMade saddle bags went to good use in protecting me from anything worse than an epic skin bruise (1 hour and it was already turning purple)
The Bad
AMA wanted me to ride out front so that he could keep an eye on me. I went sprinting off, or as "sprinting" the internal balance between adrenalin, tired legs, and head wind could manage. Didn't mean to, but it was a bit up tempo all things considered. Poor AMA was left trying to keep up with me without the benefit of adrenalin---then he had HIS go boom on a patch of ice. I felt like a jerk. for pushing it and should have forced myself to be more moderate.
The...There.
We made it home. I got washed up. Did a final non-medical-person-medical-assessment and pronounced myself "banged up". Took some ibuprofen, gorged on a bunch of random food and went promptly to bed. I feel better. We'll see how it all shakes out tomorrow, but I'm glad it's a zero day.
The Silver Lining
Girls with roadrash on their hands, a tetchy shoulder and questionable wrist get out of planks and push ups for a while!
Oh, and most importantly...it was gorgeous....the girl got to go outside...and I'd do it all again in a heartbeat!
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Leaf on the Wind
I'm a wimp...there are other words I use in my head, but that one is probably the most appropriate for me to use in mixed company. Yesterday's long run happened inside. The weather forecast was being all wonky, and while I am okay with running in the cold OR in the wet, both is not acceptable. My ego (and my relationship) couldn't take a failed run when I had my longest-to-date long run planned for the day.
So, onto the treadmill it was! I planned to run early because I was aware that my sloth-like pace was going to hog up a lot of time. Given that our apartment gym has only one properly functioning treadmill, I didn't want to cheese off my fellow building dwellers.
The idea of 17 miles on the treadmill presented some large psychological barriers. First and foremost, our gym is small, ugly, and presents very little in the way of distraction. This is fine for an 8 mile mid week run, but not so fine for a long slow distance run. Chief among my #firstworldproblems issues with the spaces are the color and lighting. The walls are a vivid orange that reminds me of the powder they sprinkle on the carpet when a primary school student pukes in class. Second, florescent lights irritate me. I'm that guy who refuses to turn on the lights in my office because I'd rather have daylight than that weird flickery ugly green light. Blame AMA, he's a photographer and has made me a light snob.
What I am about to tell you may loose whatever running streed credibility that I might have been earning, but I don't care. AMA came to the rescue with the iPad and a movie! Hehe!!! I promised myself I would take the opportunity to make this a slower run, and the movie totally made this possible. I set the treadmill to more-slothly-than-usual and left it there for the whole run.
I got to watch Serenity, which is one of my favorite movies. It served to keep my mind actively engaged through the begining and middle miles, which are mentally the toughest for me. I was highly entertained the whole time, don't know what it did for mental toughness, but it did a lot for my confidence as I sailed through barriers I normally face and the negative self talk I associate with them. The movie itself has lots of great one liners which served to motivate me through the run. I may toy with taking excerpts of them and integrating them into my future run mixes.
By the time it was over, I was ready to focus on the remaining miles. The remaining miles were less than one of my middle distance mid-week runs and felt totally manageable. Even more awesome, I was tired when I was done, but felt like I might have been able to do more.
We'll see what kind of awesomeness I can conjure in a couple of weeks when I bump it up to 19 miles!
So, onto the treadmill it was! I planned to run early because I was aware that my sloth-like pace was going to hog up a lot of time. Given that our apartment gym has only one properly functioning treadmill, I didn't want to cheese off my fellow building dwellers.
The idea of 17 miles on the treadmill presented some large psychological barriers. First and foremost, our gym is small, ugly, and presents very little in the way of distraction. This is fine for an 8 mile mid week run, but not so fine for a long slow distance run. Chief among my #firstworldproblems issues with the spaces are the color and lighting. The walls are a vivid orange that reminds me of the powder they sprinkle on the carpet when a primary school student pukes in class. Second, florescent lights irritate me. I'm that guy who refuses to turn on the lights in my office because I'd rather have daylight than that weird flickery ugly green light. Blame AMA, he's a photographer and has made me a light snob.
What I am about to tell you may loose whatever running streed credibility that I might have been earning, but I don't care. AMA came to the rescue with the iPad and a movie! Hehe!!! I promised myself I would take the opportunity to make this a slower run, and the movie totally made this possible. I set the treadmill to more-slothly-than-usual and left it there for the whole run.
I got to watch Serenity, which is one of my favorite movies. It served to keep my mind actively engaged through the begining and middle miles, which are mentally the toughest for me. I was highly entertained the whole time, don't know what it did for mental toughness, but it did a lot for my confidence as I sailed through barriers I normally face and the negative self talk I associate with them. The movie itself has lots of great one liners which served to motivate me through the run. I may toy with taking excerpts of them and integrating them into my future run mixes.
By the time it was over, I was ready to focus on the remaining miles. The remaining miles were less than one of my middle distance mid-week runs and felt totally manageable. Even more awesome, I was tired when I was done, but felt like I might have been able to do more.
We'll see what kind of awesomeness I can conjure in a couple of weeks when I bump it up to 19 miles!
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Winning Friends, Influencing People
This week has been characterized by a weird running schedule, mostly induced by the fact that I have developed a loathing for the treadmill. This inspired me to take advantage of Monday's nice weather, subbing a zero day for the beginning of my weekly training cycle.
New 10K record on Monday! Okay, I guess those cutback weeks work, because I always feel so awesome the week afterward. It was chillier than it looked because the wind picked up and was COLD. Still, I kicked some serious butt, and when it looked like I could beat the old record, I tacked on a bit extra to hit the 10K mark. Not the short run I had planned for my zero day, but still awesome!
Tuesday found me on the treadmill as I had expected. I ran intervals to keep it interesting, and a warped .2 fast, .3 slow, .3 fast, .2 slow pattern made the time fly by. Another 6.8 miles down and I was HAPPY afterward. Running really does make bad days better.
So, Monday and Tuesday laid the foundation for Wednesday's run. It was nice outside, with long pants and my new long sleeve technical shirt I felt great. More suprisingly, my legs felt good. I went with it, and crushed some more mileage...8.5 to be exact. At the outset I wasn't sure I could handle it, but it just kind of worked. I like it when that happens.
On the way back from my run (I love out and backs for medium length runs), I pass over a couple of bridges. I think one of them hates me. It's the same bridge that I tripped on during my long run a couple of weekends ago. I tripped on it again....in the exact same spot...with the exact same foot. Only this time, I rolled my ankle enough to actually fall. I also dropped an F-Bomb with the raucous enthusiasm that is only made possible by the sincerest of frustration coupled with headphones blaring far to loudly. I also might have been just about to pass a couple who was out on a cute, hand holding walk. I might have shouted said profanity within less than 24 inches of the fine couple's ears. I went down, clutching my ankle, apologizing profusely and (with headphones still blaring & breathing hard) trying to simultaneously die of embarrassment and assess for actual damage. The couple and I each moved on after it was clear that the ankle was going to be okay. I babied it a bit, but could definitely run on it....the voices in my head (you know, the nice, warm, fuzzy, sympathetic ones), told me to run it off and quit being a wuss.
The run resumed and I was okay. I have to chuckle....as I ran back under the bridge, a witness to the event, an older gentleman , face chiseled by wind and sun and work and play, looked at me with a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye, and a nod. Yes, I fell down and went boom. Yes, there was nothing ladylike about my frustration. But my city cares, it understands that people are messy, and it loves them anyway.
Oh...and I beat the 10K record that I set on Monday.
New 10K record on Monday! Okay, I guess those cutback weeks work, because I always feel so awesome the week afterward. It was chillier than it looked because the wind picked up and was COLD. Still, I kicked some serious butt, and when it looked like I could beat the old record, I tacked on a bit extra to hit the 10K mark. Not the short run I had planned for my zero day, but still awesome!
Tuesday found me on the treadmill as I had expected. I ran intervals to keep it interesting, and a warped .2 fast, .3 slow, .3 fast, .2 slow pattern made the time fly by. Another 6.8 miles down and I was HAPPY afterward. Running really does make bad days better.
So, Monday and Tuesday laid the foundation for Wednesday's run. It was nice outside, with long pants and my new long sleeve technical shirt I felt great. More suprisingly, my legs felt good. I went with it, and crushed some more mileage...8.5 to be exact. At the outset I wasn't sure I could handle it, but it just kind of worked. I like it when that happens.
On the way back from my run (I love out and backs for medium length runs), I pass over a couple of bridges. I think one of them hates me. It's the same bridge that I tripped on during my long run a couple of weekends ago. I tripped on it again....in the exact same spot...with the exact same foot. Only this time, I rolled my ankle enough to actually fall. I also dropped an F-Bomb with the raucous enthusiasm that is only made possible by the sincerest of frustration coupled with headphones blaring far to loudly. I also might have been just about to pass a couple who was out on a cute, hand holding walk. I might have shouted said profanity within less than 24 inches of the fine couple's ears. I went down, clutching my ankle, apologizing profusely and (with headphones still blaring & breathing hard) trying to simultaneously die of embarrassment and assess for actual damage. The couple and I each moved on after it was clear that the ankle was going to be okay. I babied it a bit, but could definitely run on it....the voices in my head (you know, the nice, warm, fuzzy, sympathetic ones), told me to run it off and quit being a wuss.
The run resumed and I was okay. I have to chuckle....as I ran back under the bridge, a witness to the event, an older gentleman , face chiseled by wind and sun and work and play, looked at me with a smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye, and a nod. Yes, I fell down and went boom. Yes, there was nothing ladylike about my frustration. But my city cares, it understands that people are messy, and it loves them anyway.
Oh...and I beat the 10K record that I set on Monday.
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