Twice the Towpath Action

Meet Benjie. He’s an energetic three-year-old cocker (he looks like a Sussex) spaniel currently hanging out at the Euclid Animal Shelter. Rumor has it that his parents split, so they ditched their baby and went their separate ways. Not only is he already housebroken, Benjie knows how to sit and play nice with kids.

So, if you’re looking for a lovable pooch (or know someone who is), head to the Euclid Animal Shelter. He looks so much like my ol’ Skippy that it melts my heart. And I can’t imagine what it’s like for the little guy to go from a warm, happy home to the pound. I’d like to bring him into my warm, happy home, but we won’t be in it for another 1.5 months (which probably means I should stop looking at pups for now), and he shouldn’t have to wait so long!

Surely someone is looking for a good running, sitting and fetching buddy, right?

Speaking of running buddies, the Towpath is my new running buddy. We’re thick as thieves now, and it has warmed my heart to learn from Landon and TriGuyJT that I won’t be Towpath-less in Cleveland. The thing stretches for miles and miles. Woo hoo! I’ll also have North Chagrin for running, and I’m hitting the muddy trails there very soon.

Even with the Towpath an exit away, I still had trouble early this week conquering my laziness. It was less that I lacked energy or that my legs were heavy, I just couldn’t get my shoes on and myself out the door. In fact, it wasn’t until Wednesday that I met up with Landon for our weekly run.

Landon was nice enough to travel all the way to Peninsula and to let me know about other access points. Wednesday weather was stellar for a trek down the path, but it was also my first bout with dehydration this season.

Generally I don’t bring water with me when I run; I just either plan a pass by the car for a sip, a route that hits water fountains or a distance that can go waterless (with upped hydration for 1-2 days prior). But the first run in 70+ degrees can run you dry.

Before Landon arrived, I ran a little over a mile to warm up and then we hit the trail for close to 10 miles. We probably ran around nine miles a touch under 9:50/mile and then walked the last mile or so because we were just bone dry. I had yet to become a salt shaker, but I could feel my sweat beginning to dry up and it was only a matter of time before my face got crusty and white.

With that in mind, I gulped some Gatorade before my Friday run on the path and kept my distance a little shorter this time. I totally blew my training plan this week—I was scheduled to run 6x800m at 10K pace on Tuesday, easy five miles on Wednesday, tempo 7.5 miles on Thursday and rest on Friday. But I did none of them.

Running the ten miles on Wednesday definitely made me feel better about blowing off the early week training, but I was still feeling guilty by Friday. And it got me to thinking about my “speed” work.

I haven’t taken the speed portion of this plan very seriously. As you know, I took last year’s half-marathon training plan very literally (even though it wasn’t written up specifically for me) and ended up with a stress fracture. So, after almost 1.5 years running, I’ve finally learned to listen to my body and its need to build up endurance, muscle and acid-buffering before I think about being speedracer.

That being said, I ditched the 6x800 this week, but didn’t want to totally nix the tempo run. I now realize that even if I’m doing “speed” work or tempos that I don’t have to sprint and that upping my pace doesn’t mean break-leg speeds. And I’ve said that before. I just don’t seem to remember it while I’m running.

When I hit the Towpath last night, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. Friday was supposed to be a rest day, after all. So, I mixed it up.

Following a 15-minute warm-up, I ran four “comfortably hard” miles with 90-second recovery walks in between—a sort of tempo/reps run that actually felt all right. I didn’t feel energetic at all during my warm up, and I couldn’t fathom running 7.5 tempo miles. Not only am I lazy, but I just don’t think my body is there yet.

Nevertheless, I wanted to still push my lactic threshold and get some of the benefits of my would-be workouts. Here’s how it worked out:

• Warm-up 1.5 miles at 10:00/mile
• 4 x 1600 (8:40, 8:30, 8:12, 7:38)
• Cool down 2 miles at 10:00/mile
  

I started out pretty sluggish, but my legs came back about half way through mile two. And as I pushed through miles three and four, I consciously reminded myself that the burning in my legs was a good, that my body was learning to deal with lactic acid and that the only way to feel OK in the future was to keeping pumping my arms, keeping breathing and keep running. So, I did.

The best part of running on the Towpath is the mile markers. When I run in familiar neighborhoods, I generally know distances if I take particular paths, but get me off course I don’t know the difference between three and twenty miles!

And was I ever happy to see my final milemarker! By the fourth mile, my legs had really relaxed and were feeling the burn, but not as intensely as the first two. In fact, I was really surprised at the time because that leg had gone so smoothly. It didn’t occur to me that I’m run my fastest-ever recorded mile when my pace felt that comfortable.

Overall, I covered close to 8.5 miles and ran 7.5 of them. I made it back to my car—salt free—and chugged some more Gatorade. The intensity of the workout didn’t really hit me until 9 p.m. when I was conked out in front of the Indians game, deliriously asking Neil questions that I probably won’t remember.

I had an awesome couscous, chicken sausage and pumpkin seed recovery dinner and a great night’s sleep, so I feel just swell this morning. Now, if only I had a dog to play with on this bright and sunny Saturday morning.

On the Road Again

Well, the track, at least.

Thanks to everyone’s well-wishing, I’ve made it from the depths of fluville and into my kitchen where I am making chamomile-vanilla and brown-rice pudding. What a difference a day makes. So, thank you to everyone!

Back to the track: it was raining and cold during lunch and I thought I could better endure the track than the nagging pneumonia and relentless scolding I would have received for running outside today.

I took out my run very casually to feel out my condition. To my surprise, I felt comfortable running my normal pace.

After about one mile, however, I noticed that my HR was too high for light running—around 180 bpm. While I haven’t nailed down my various HR levels, I’ve found that the upper 170s mark higher intensity for me. So, I slowed down. And nothing happened.

I slowed a little more, adjusted my stride, ran faster, ran slower. Nothing. It just stayed in the upper 180s. I felt physically fine and thought it might have something to do with recovering from being sick… and continued running.

Right around mile three, a really bad stitch crept up on my right side and nothing I did would make the thing go away. And it just kept getting worse and worse.

Finally, when I stopped to stretch my side, I noticed that I was pretty thirsty, salty and exhibiting all the classic signs of dehydration. It dawned on me that this being sick thing consumes plenty of salt and liquids in one’s body. I was so used to be chappy, dry and uncomfortable over the past five days that I didn’t even notice that I needed some serious hydrating.

Now, it may not have been bad enough to speed up my HR (I think it was just my body’s violent reaction to movement again; I think it was digging the rest-all-day vibe I had going), but the dehydration certainly didn’t help.

After a big drink, I walked for a bit and then finished (s-l-o-w-l-y) my 4.21 miles.

The greatest part was that I felt really energetic after my run—despite a few calf cramps I picked up while walking. I didn’t quite have a distance goal in mind, but simply wanted to get back into the swing. And I think I could have run farther if I a) wasn’t trying to take it e-a-s-y; b) didn’t lose my tissue; and c) didn’t run out of time and have to go back to work! (I did eventually find the tissue, in case you were concerned.) So, I'm feeling positive about my road to recovery.

Despite this good sign, I have decided not to run the Julie Zajac Memorial 5K Run this Sunday. I’m re-bummed out, but at least this time it’s for a good reason: my health.

The Importance of Being Earnestly Hydrated

Finishing up mile seven was harder than I expected. Although I had run fairly well this morning, the last half mile just got slower and slower. And then in the last 400 meters, I had to take a quick pit stop for 15 seconds to collect myself. I was dizzy, disoriented and covered in salt. It doesn't take a genius to determine that I was dehydrated.

I jogged out my last 200 meters, chugged at the drinking fountain and took a break before I got in the car to drive home. Since I broke down my seven miles into three sets, I don't think I realized how dehydrated I was. And had I not stopped when I did, I would have surely collapsed on the track.

Dehydration is dangerous. You've probably seen the Gatorade commercial featuring triathlete Chris Legh's near-fatal collapse only fifty meters from the finish of the 1997 IronMan. He hadn't been able to keep fluids or food down during the race and had become so dehydrated that his organs began to shut down. Legh changed his sports nutrition and hydration with the help of the Gatorade Institute and, last I checked, has been doing all right. Man, makes you want to drink Gatorade (that marketing will get you every time).

Fact is that dehydration frequently catches people off-guard. Be aware of dehydration symptoms and learn how to prevent dehydration while training.