…is what I said to the momentary cold, flu, allergies, whatever that wiped me out for most of Tuesday.
I woke up really whipped and wrote it off as carried-over exhaustion from the weekend’s running. But by 10 a.m. it felt like much more than that. My throat hurt. I felt on the verge of being stuffy. My head went fuzzy from time to time. It was all I could not to nap at my desk. I still don’t know how I kept my eyes open.
My race-week schedule had me running some short distance (5-6 miles) on Tuesday, and I promised myself I would do it. After a short nap.
I fell asleep around 5 p.m. and was CERTAIN I would wake up with the flu. This thing just didn’t seem shakable. And when I woke up an hour later, I still felt like poop. So I ate.
What do you do when you’re under the weather? I know there’s the old feed this/starve that, but if my stomach is even close to A-OK, it’s getting fed. Perhaps it’s the spike in blood sugar or sheer hunger-related satisfaction that makes me feel better (if only for a moment). Whatever it is, it works.
Two soy butter and fruit spread (a.k.a. peanut butter and jelly) on toasted multigrain English muffins later, my stomach was happy! I picked up my computer and plugged away at work to the tune of the Indians game. And two hours later, I felt almost fine.
Which leads me to ask (pardon the language): WTF?
It’s like my body just wanted to give me a race-week scare. “So, you think you’re ready for 13.1 miles? Ha! Try it sick as a hippo!”
Most people who know my "I'm not sick and I don't need to rest.... ever" attitude will be surprised to learn that I didn't run. You read that right. I stayed in. I rested. What do you know? I feel better. I think.
This morning wasn’t as bad as Tuesday; I hope the progress continues. The rain, however, seems to be in on the joke, and it will likely dampen tonight’s miles.
Oh well. I only have tonight and Thursday night runs before I rest. And then, I don’t know, maybe I’ll take a 13.1-mile stroll around Cleveland on Sunday. Just for kicks and pride.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Hudson
Just to recap: I was running through Hudson last week when an approaching car, which was about to blow through a stop sign, almost hit me when I was in the middle of the street, in the middle of the crosswalk. It was almost the second time a car struck me, but that Jag had some good brakes.
The other incidents I described (the meanies in Stow, the nicies in Euclid) weren't car related at all, but just me, losing my sidewalk grip with two left feet.
Strangely enough, I can dance!
Most of the past week’s training, however, took a backseat to my continued battle against stress. It was all self-induced, really, and, therefore, my fault. But would it win?
The hardest part was shaking off the stress-battle fatigue and getting my butt outside. And I knew with the Cleveland Half speeding up on May 18, I should really consider getting in some miles before race day. What a bright idea!
So, I woke up early on Saturday and took a Stow-to-Hudson 16-miler (we move in two weeks, so it was my last one here) on what turned out to be a near-perfect morning. It started out super chilly—higher winds, bigger clouds and temps in the upper 40s—but warmed up to the lower 60s about 30 minutes down the road.
It was yet another good exercise in running with a jacket, without a jacket, with a jacket and getting stuck halfway out of it too. One of these days I need to invent some type of force field that can cover and uncover me when I hit x degrees. Put it on the to-do list!
But a funny thing happened when I was crossing Oviatt and Aurora: I saw a police officer ticketing a driver for running the stop sign and hitting, you guessed it, a runner. No, it wasn’t me! It was, though, the same intersection where I was almost bumped on Thursday.
I didn’t really stop to talk (it pulled a crowd), but as I slowly trotted by, I heard everyone saying that drivers have to start acknowledging runners and that pedestrians have to learn to stand their ground, follow traffic rules and take their right of way—lest drivers forget they must yield. Within reason for pedestrians, obviously.
That last part came from the police officer. And I think that as communities like downtown Hudson try to attract a pedestrian crowd, getting drivers not to run over those pedestrians will be key!
Instead of eavesdropping at that scene, I stopped for Vitamin Water at Heinen’s and practiced drinking on the run. I’ve toyed with walking through race water stops the past couple races and have gone pretty much stitchless on race day since the middle of last year. Knock on wood.
And on Saturday, I managed to drink (I’d walk, sip and then run) sans stitch for most of the run and then belly-breathe my way out of an almost stitch right around mile 10.
The only real problem, which is a regular on my long runs, was my foot aches around miles 12-13. Every time I run 11+ miles, I get achy feet. Even in new shoes. When I first started feeling the pain last year, I thought it would subside with time and conditioning, but it seems to have an 11-mile trigger.
Granted, it’s not a painful experience and, therefore, not a real concern. It’s just more of an annoyance. Perhaps at mile 10 I’ll change shoes. We’ll see.
I finished the 16-miler around 2.5 hours (9:30/mile), ran upstairs, showered, dressed, moved boxes into my car and sped to Cleveland for my brother’s graduation. (Congrats to Nino on his big college graduation! Here’s to his bright future and imminent world-changing!) Let me tell you that carrying boxes down three flights of stairs after a 16-miler doesn’t feel remotely as peachy on the knees as you might have guessed. At least it wasn't up three flights of stairs.
Yet my legs didn’t feel remotely as stiff when I woke on Sunday as I might have thought.
I woke up around 6:15 a.m. on Sunday to run a few miles with Landon (6.25 miles to be exact) for our last outing before the Cleveland races. Landon’s going the full 26.2; I’ll quit halfway. It was incredible to see how desolate a cloudy 6 a.m. Sunday can be. We saw maybe 2-3 people and twice as many cars.
We started the run pretty fast (after I warmed up to our meeting spot), but had to slow down once my legs woke up and stiffened up around mile three. I managed to keep rolling at the speed of stiff, but mostly enjoyed the trip with Landon out to the park and back before taking a walk break to his house and then making the stiff, stiff, stiff run back to my house before it started to rain.
So, my outlook for the Cleveland Half is good. While I don’t feel as prepared as the Akron Half, I’m confident in my ability to finish 13.1. But I don’t know that I’ll have a time goal. Maybe just to beat my last time (1:54:10) or just have fun doing it.
Marathon Training Week 5: 33 miles
The other incidents I described (the meanies in Stow, the nicies in Euclid) weren't car related at all, but just me, losing my sidewalk grip with two left feet.
Strangely enough, I can dance!
Most of the past week’s training, however, took a backseat to my continued battle against stress. It was all self-induced, really, and, therefore, my fault. But would it win?
The hardest part was shaking off the stress-battle fatigue and getting my butt outside. And I knew with the Cleveland Half speeding up on May 18, I should really consider getting in some miles before race day. What a bright idea!
So, I woke up early on Saturday and took a Stow-to-Hudson 16-miler (we move in two weeks, so it was my last one here) on what turned out to be a near-perfect morning. It started out super chilly—higher winds, bigger clouds and temps in the upper 40s—but warmed up to the lower 60s about 30 minutes down the road.
It was yet another good exercise in running with a jacket, without a jacket, with a jacket and getting stuck halfway out of it too. One of these days I need to invent some type of force field that can cover and uncover me when I hit x degrees. Put it on the to-do list!
But a funny thing happened when I was crossing Oviatt and Aurora: I saw a police officer ticketing a driver for running the stop sign and hitting, you guessed it, a runner. No, it wasn’t me! It was, though, the same intersection where I was almost bumped on Thursday.
I didn’t really stop to talk (it pulled a crowd), but as I slowly trotted by, I heard everyone saying that drivers have to start acknowledging runners and that pedestrians have to learn to stand their ground, follow traffic rules and take their right of way—lest drivers forget they must yield. Within reason for pedestrians, obviously.
That last part came from the police officer. And I think that as communities like downtown Hudson try to attract a pedestrian crowd, getting drivers not to run over those pedestrians will be key!
Instead of eavesdropping at that scene, I stopped for Vitamin Water at Heinen’s and practiced drinking on the run. I’ve toyed with walking through race water stops the past couple races and have gone pretty much stitchless on race day since the middle of last year. Knock on wood.
And on Saturday, I managed to drink (I’d walk, sip and then run) sans stitch for most of the run and then belly-breathe my way out of an almost stitch right around mile 10.
The only real problem, which is a regular on my long runs, was my foot aches around miles 12-13. Every time I run 11+ miles, I get achy feet. Even in new shoes. When I first started feeling the pain last year, I thought it would subside with time and conditioning, but it seems to have an 11-mile trigger.
Granted, it’s not a painful experience and, therefore, not a real concern. It’s just more of an annoyance. Perhaps at mile 10 I’ll change shoes. We’ll see.
I finished the 16-miler around 2.5 hours (9:30/mile), ran upstairs, showered, dressed, moved boxes into my car and sped to Cleveland for my brother’s graduation. (Congrats to Nino on his big college graduation! Here’s to his bright future and imminent world-changing!) Let me tell you that carrying boxes down three flights of stairs after a 16-miler doesn’t feel remotely as peachy on the knees as you might have guessed. At least it wasn't up three flights of stairs.
Yet my legs didn’t feel remotely as stiff when I woke on Sunday as I might have thought.
I woke up around 6:15 a.m. on Sunday to run a few miles with Landon (6.25 miles to be exact) for our last outing before the Cleveland races. Landon’s going the full 26.2; I’ll quit halfway. It was incredible to see how desolate a cloudy 6 a.m. Sunday can be. We saw maybe 2-3 people and twice as many cars.
We started the run pretty fast (after I warmed up to our meeting spot), but had to slow down once my legs woke up and stiffened up around mile three. I managed to keep rolling at the speed of stiff, but mostly enjoyed the trip with Landon out to the park and back before taking a walk break to his house and then making the stiff, stiff, stiff run back to my house before it started to rain.
So, my outlook for the Cleveland Half is good. While I don’t feel as prepared as the Akron Half, I’m confident in my ability to finish 13.1. But I don’t know that I’ll have a time goal. Maybe just to beat my last time (1:54:10) or just have fun doing it.
Marathon Training Week 5: 33 miles
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Beware the Wily Road Warrior
So, it almost happened again: I was almost hit by a car. But first, the early week.
Stress and stuff was still irking me on Monday and Tuesday, but I hit the road on Monday for five miles. I decided to ditch the marathon training assignments until after the half because my stress-waddiness and lack of energy haven’t blended at all with the concept of running 30+ miles a week or coming home to run over ten miles after work.
Go with what works, right?
Despite every intention to run again on Tuesday, I fell for the Cleveland sports spell and lay on my living room floor mesmerized by playoffs and Yankee spankings. Lucky for me, my resistance bands, yoga mat and weights lay also on the living room floor near the television.
Cross-training Tuesday it was! I returned to some serious stretching, ab work and lower-back exercises, which will have to become part of my everyday once our relocation is complete.
Wednesday morning seemed really promising. I walked into work around 7 a.m. and almost took a detour into my gym bag. There hasn’t been a more perfect morning this year, and somehow I didn’t run through it.
If you live in NEOhio or love the Weather Channel, you’ll know it was all downhill from there. Clouds, wind, storms, rain. You name it.
When I left work, however, it seemed to brighten up (no, not because of me) outside, and I decided to drive to Hudson, park at the grocery store, run a few and then pick up dinner.
It’s about an hour drive, so you can imagine the weather, my energy and my bladder were completely different versions of themselves by the time I pulled into Heinen’s. Unfortunately, the only bathroom in downtown Hudson I know of is the one at Main Street Cupcakes, and I just can’t visit until after the Half.
Yet on I ran.
I followed a 6-mile triangular double loop that traveled from Main Street down Aurora to North Hayden and up Streetsboro, if you’re familiar with the area.
It had some climbs and I took a few semi-detours up some hills, but encountered the biggest challenges from the wind, rain and automobiles.
On my second trip around the triangle, I was crossing a side street just as a Jaguar was headed for a stop sign. Or so I thought.
There I was, wearing fire-engine red shorts, a sunny yellow T-shirt and a blindly orange baseball cap, crossing the street. I couldn’t have been more noticeable if I had been wearing enflamed, bottomless chaps with a neon arrow sign that said “Look at me.” But alas, the driver missed both the stop sign and the runner.
It didn’t take me long to know I should watch all cars—stationary or rolling—in front of which I am crossing. And it still blows my mind when you’re staring at a car and its driver, and they both keep moving.
The driver finally noticed the glowing beacon of don’t-hit-me crossing in front of her car and stopped. Meanwhile, I was turned halfway toward the car (ready to brace myself and crash into the windshield instead of going under) with a WTF look on my face. Then WHAM!
The ground hit me.
When I turned away from the car, I momentarily lost my orientation, stumbled and totally wiped out. Thankfully, I didn’t fall on my knees again this time (I’m tired of looking like a nine-year-old girl with scraped knees), but crashed onto my left hip and both palms. I’m a little scraped and bumped; I’m OK for now.
My neck whipped when I hit the ground, so I was wholly disorientated when I finally crawled onto my feet. Not to mention the whip of embarrassment.
Unlike the last car incident, this driver didn’t get out and scream at me. She followed me down the street, pulled into a driveway and offered me a ride. Another driver also pulled up to offer a ride along the way. I must have been a pathetic sight. So, two points for Hudson.
Once I collected myself and stopped my whimpering and limpering, I started back into my three-mile loop just as the ran really started to pour. I was just about the start feeling all Eeyore again, but I’m kind of bored with feeling sorry for myself. And off I ran.
My right felt a little tweaky; my head and neck felt a little off; and my left hammy just wasn’t right. Nevertheless, I finished the trek around Hudson and walked into my favorite grocery store, semi-sweaty, rained-on, dirty, a little bloody and really scraped. I can only imagine the meticulous produce boys weren’t digging my digging for good apples today.
All this falling and car-dodging got me thinking, though: how do communities rate for runner courtesy? Obviously singular circumstances with individuals don’t speak to the whole community, but I wonder what a thorough investigation might find.
The two times I had incidents in Stow, for example, I was yelled at when I was hit by a car, ignored when I wiped out near an intersection and beeped at when I slowly crossed the street all bloody and limping.
I wiped out on Babbitt Road in Euclid last summer, and the passers-by couldn’t have been more helpful. All traffic stopped (I was on the sidewalk), two people offered me a ride, another offered to call an ambulance, one person came out of his house to help and another woman parked her car and came to me with a First Aid kit. Impressive.
I’ll give Hudson the benefit of the doubt this time. Besides, they do have some pretty good cupcakes. Have I ever mentioned that? While they don’t seem to have the same stop-at-stop-signs tradition we follow in other parts of the country, I did get two offers of help. And that’s not so bad.
If nothing else, today was perfect training for incidents, injuries and inclement weather. I had a mean stitch miles 1-3 and kind of started praying for a bathroom when I was 2.5 miles out. Diving face-first into the cement, however, totally made me lose the stitch and forget about my bladder. So, next time you’re in a bad running situation… you know what to do ;-)
Stress and stuff was still irking me on Monday and Tuesday, but I hit the road on Monday for five miles. I decided to ditch the marathon training assignments until after the half because my stress-waddiness and lack of energy haven’t blended at all with the concept of running 30+ miles a week or coming home to run over ten miles after work.
Go with what works, right?Despite every intention to run again on Tuesday, I fell for the Cleveland sports spell and lay on my living room floor mesmerized by playoffs and Yankee spankings. Lucky for me, my resistance bands, yoga mat and weights lay also on the living room floor near the television.
Cross-training Tuesday it was! I returned to some serious stretching, ab work and lower-back exercises, which will have to become part of my everyday once our relocation is complete.
Wednesday morning seemed really promising. I walked into work around 7 a.m. and almost took a detour into my gym bag. There hasn’t been a more perfect morning this year, and somehow I didn’t run through it.
If you live in NEOhio or love the Weather Channel, you’ll know it was all downhill from there. Clouds, wind, storms, rain. You name it.
When I left work, however, it seemed to brighten up (no, not because of me) outside, and I decided to drive to Hudson, park at the grocery store, run a few and then pick up dinner.It’s about an hour drive, so you can imagine the weather, my energy and my bladder were completely different versions of themselves by the time I pulled into Heinen’s. Unfortunately, the only bathroom in downtown Hudson I know of is the one at Main Street Cupcakes, and I just can’t visit until after the Half.
Yet on I ran.
I followed a 6-mile triangular double loop that traveled from Main Street down Aurora to North Hayden and up Streetsboro, if you’re familiar with the area.
It had some climbs and I took a few semi-detours up some hills, but encountered the biggest challenges from the wind, rain and automobiles.
On my second trip around the triangle, I was crossing a side street just as a Jaguar was headed for a stop sign. Or so I thought.
There I was, wearing fire-engine red shorts, a sunny yellow T-shirt and a blindly orange baseball cap, crossing the street. I couldn’t have been more noticeable if I had been wearing enflamed, bottomless chaps with a neon arrow sign that said “Look at me.” But alas, the driver missed both the stop sign and the runner.
It didn’t take me long to know I should watch all cars—stationary or rolling—in front of which I am crossing. And it still blows my mind when you’re staring at a car and its driver, and they both keep moving.The driver finally noticed the glowing beacon of don’t-hit-me crossing in front of her car and stopped. Meanwhile, I was turned halfway toward the car (ready to brace myself and crash into the windshield instead of going under) with a WTF look on my face. Then WHAM!
The ground hit me.
When I turned away from the car, I momentarily lost my orientation, stumbled and totally wiped out. Thankfully, I didn’t fall on my knees again this time (I’m tired of looking like a nine-year-old girl with scraped knees), but crashed onto my left hip and both palms. I’m a little scraped and bumped; I’m OK for now.
My neck whipped when I hit the ground, so I was wholly disorientated when I finally crawled onto my feet. Not to mention the whip of embarrassment.
Unlike the last car incident, this driver didn’t get out and scream at me. She followed me down the street, pulled into a driveway and offered me a ride. Another driver also pulled up to offer a ride along the way. I must have been a pathetic sight. So, two points for Hudson.
Once I collected myself and stopped my whimpering and limpering, I started back into my three-mile loop just as the ran really started to pour. I was just about the start feeling all Eeyore again, but I’m kind of bored with feeling sorry for myself. And off I ran.
My right felt a little tweaky; my head and neck felt a little off; and my left hammy just wasn’t right. Nevertheless, I finished the trek around Hudson and walked into my favorite grocery store, semi-sweaty, rained-on, dirty, a little bloody and really scraped. I can only imagine the meticulous produce boys weren’t digging my digging for good apples today.
All this falling and car-dodging got me thinking, though: how do communities rate for runner courtesy? Obviously singular circumstances with individuals don’t speak to the whole community, but I wonder what a thorough investigation might find.
The two times I had incidents in Stow, for example, I was yelled at when I was hit by a car, ignored when I wiped out near an intersection and beeped at when I slowly crossed the street all bloody and limping.I wiped out on Babbitt Road in Euclid last summer, and the passers-by couldn’t have been more helpful. All traffic stopped (I was on the sidewalk), two people offered me a ride, another offered to call an ambulance, one person came out of his house to help and another woman parked her car and came to me with a First Aid kit. Impressive.
I’ll give Hudson the benefit of the doubt this time. Besides, they do have some pretty good cupcakes. Have I ever mentioned that? While they don’t seem to have the same stop-at-stop-signs tradition we follow in other parts of the country, I did get two offers of help. And that’s not so bad.
If nothing else, today was perfect training for incidents, injuries and inclement weather. I had a mean stitch miles 1-3 and kind of started praying for a bathroom when I was 2.5 miles out. Diving face-first into the cement, however, totally made me lose the stitch and forget about my bladder. So, next time you’re in a bad running situation… you know what to do ;-)
Monday, May 5, 2008
How does stress affect your training?
It took me a while, but a couple years ago, I realized something about myself: I’m surrounded by stress-wads. No, no, I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense (many of these stress-wads are people I love and admire); it’s who they are. And so long as they don’t sink from stress-wad to stress-monger, they’re A-OK with me.
On a typical day, I am a stress-free zone. About ten years ago I verified for myself that stressing didn’t positively affect any situation (its negative effects were plenty), so I just quit. Cold turkey. It’s been a glorious decade.
Swatting down the mongers makes me smile now, and I (heart) converting my favorite stress-wads into chilled-out versions of their old selves. Talk about satisfying work!
I don’t let much of anything get to me, and when it does, I let off a five-minute soapboxing rant about what’s eating at me and then I just breathe easy. Sigh.
But sometimes you just can’t escape it. And the stress will eat you alive.
That’s what has happened to me the past 2-3 weeks. When my stress reaches fever pitch, I internalize most of my feelings and get worn down by it. I lose my energy, my ability to think, my will to blog. Yet I press on with my mantra, stress does no good; soon this will all go away. Excuse me while I go sit in full lotus and repeat that to myself…
Poor Neil, however, knows how well my chilled approach treats the stress-has-finally-breached-the-secure-zone alarm. Zero patience. Zero sympathy. Zero energy. And you can probably see how each of those mount on each other to make one unpleasant G.
Last week it finally started taking its toll on me. I was tired, cranky and wildly uncreative in my work. Then there was the training.
On Tuesday I headed for the towpath to do my brief “speed” work. After a 10-minute warm-up, I headed into 4x1600 at 10K pace with 3:00 recovery jogs. We all know, however, I don’t have a clue about pace.
I ran the first mile at 7:35 and recovered pretty quickly before setting out on mile two. Because the first was too fast for me, I just tried to run comfortably hard—pushing myself but not sprinting or overexerting—for the second. And, of course, ran it in 7:25. Grrr.
What should bug me most is that I can’t control my speed or even get a sense for how fast I’m going. In fact, during mile one I was certain I was below 9:00/mile. But I’m more irked that I can hardly break 8:30/mile in a race yet I’ve almost always been able to sustain (outside brief speed work) faster paces when I’m training.
Silly girl: train slower, race faster! How did I fracture my leg last year?
Strange as it sounds, fortunately my stomach started acting up on me as I headed into mile three. Lucky me, right? At least I know that if my legs aren’t going to stop me from running too fast, my innards will. I ran the miles back to the car at a sustained pace around 9:00/mile for a total of 4-5 miles.
My thigh pain nagged all day Wednesday, so I laid off the running and stuck to weight and core cross-training. It made me nervous to feel that twinge because it was two weeks out from the Akron Half (the Cleveland Half is two weeks from this past Sunday) that I really started feeling the stress fracture. But this pain wasn’t nearly as bad. No crying on the road involved.
And it wasn’t that bad by Thursday when I ventured out with Landon to do an hour of hill repeats on some disconnected stretch of Cleveland’s touch of the Towpath near Newburgh Heights. We ended up finding some mile-long portion of the Towpath that hadn’t found its way (yet) the rest of the trail and ran its hills for a while.
There was no super speed on this training day! It wasn’t sweltering (may a few pinches below 80), but it was hotter outside than any other day I’ve run this year. My legs just weren’t moving that day and the week’s stress weighed me down. But the stitch was more active than ever!
As we headed down one hill, I felt the thing coming on strong, so I tried to follow the condescending advice of one Runner’s World expert: “run through it—stitches only hurt a little bit and last only a few miles.” The minutes and the miles passed; the stitch did not. In fact, it got so bad that I could barely breathe or keep moving. We took a walk break to work the thing out, but it never really went away. Thank you, Mr. Runner’s World Expert!
(Note: we found the actual Towpath on our way home and should hit the Cleveland portion of the trail any day now!)
And that, my friend, was the extent of my quality miles for last week. Barely ten total.
My thigh ached on Friday and then we spent the weekend at our house in Euclid, dogsitting. I only ran Lucy and Harley about a half-mile each (we walked for many, many more) during the two-hour break in Saturday’s rain. My thigh started nagging again, so I rode the elliptical for 30+ minutes and hoped for better feelings on Sunday. It didn’t happen. So, I called it a week.
On the bright side, I gave myself a week of relative rest for a thigh that was obviously not doing well. Do I really need to run 30+ miles when my thigh aches in the morning? Probably not.
It’s a new week. The stress that I felt last week, which kept me from thinking, smiling, running, blogging, has lifted. And I’m not letting it pin me down again. In just a few weeks, the huge work projects, the move, the life changes will have hit their peaks and begun to roll down.
By the then the Cleveland Half will be done, I’ll be able to settle into my new house and I'll relax with a smile and a cupcake.
On a typical day, I am a stress-free zone. About ten years ago I verified for myself that stressing didn’t positively affect any situation (its negative effects were plenty), so I just quit. Cold turkey. It’s been a glorious decade.Swatting down the mongers makes me smile now, and I (heart) converting my favorite stress-wads into chilled-out versions of their old selves. Talk about satisfying work!
I don’t let much of anything get to me, and when it does, I let off a five-minute soapboxing rant about what’s eating at me and then I just breathe easy. Sigh.
But sometimes you just can’t escape it. And the stress will eat you alive.
That’s what has happened to me the past 2-3 weeks. When my stress reaches fever pitch, I internalize most of my feelings and get worn down by it. I lose my energy, my ability to think, my will to blog. Yet I press on with my mantra, stress does no good; soon this will all go away. Excuse me while I go sit in full lotus and repeat that to myself…
Poor Neil, however, knows how well my chilled approach treats the stress-has-finally-breached-the-secure-zone alarm. Zero patience. Zero sympathy. Zero energy. And you can probably see how each of those mount on each other to make one unpleasant G.
Last week it finally started taking its toll on me. I was tired, cranky and wildly uncreative in my work. Then there was the training.On Tuesday I headed for the towpath to do my brief “speed” work. After a 10-minute warm-up, I headed into 4x1600 at 10K pace with 3:00 recovery jogs. We all know, however, I don’t have a clue about pace.
I ran the first mile at 7:35 and recovered pretty quickly before setting out on mile two. Because the first was too fast for me, I just tried to run comfortably hard—pushing myself but not sprinting or overexerting—for the second. And, of course, ran it in 7:25. Grrr.
What should bug me most is that I can’t control my speed or even get a sense for how fast I’m going. In fact, during mile one I was certain I was below 9:00/mile. But I’m more irked that I can hardly break 8:30/mile in a race yet I’ve almost always been able to sustain (outside brief speed work) faster paces when I’m training.
Silly girl: train slower, race faster! How did I fracture my leg last year?
Strange as it sounds, fortunately my stomach started acting up on me as I headed into mile three. Lucky me, right? At least I know that if my legs aren’t going to stop me from running too fast, my innards will. I ran the miles back to the car at a sustained pace around 9:00/mile for a total of 4-5 miles.
My thigh pain nagged all day Wednesday, so I laid off the running and stuck to weight and core cross-training. It made me nervous to feel that twinge because it was two weeks out from the Akron Half (the Cleveland Half is two weeks from this past Sunday) that I really started feeling the stress fracture. But this pain wasn’t nearly as bad. No crying on the road involved.And it wasn’t that bad by Thursday when I ventured out with Landon to do an hour of hill repeats on some disconnected stretch of Cleveland’s touch of the Towpath near Newburgh Heights. We ended up finding some mile-long portion of the Towpath that hadn’t found its way (yet) the rest of the trail and ran its hills for a while.
There was no super speed on this training day! It wasn’t sweltering (may a few pinches below 80), but it was hotter outside than any other day I’ve run this year. My legs just weren’t moving that day and the week’s stress weighed me down. But the stitch was more active than ever!
As we headed down one hill, I felt the thing coming on strong, so I tried to follow the condescending advice of one Runner’s World expert: “run through it—stitches only hurt a little bit and last only a few miles.” The minutes and the miles passed; the stitch did not. In fact, it got so bad that I could barely breathe or keep moving. We took a walk break to work the thing out, but it never really went away. Thank you, Mr. Runner’s World Expert!
(Note: we found the actual Towpath on our way home and should hit the Cleveland portion of the trail any day now!)
And that, my friend, was the extent of my quality miles for last week. Barely ten total.
My thigh ached on Friday and then we spent the weekend at our house in Euclid, dogsitting. I only ran Lucy and Harley about a half-mile each (we walked for many, many more) during the two-hour break in Saturday’s rain. My thigh started nagging again, so I rode the elliptical for 30+ minutes and hoped for better feelings on Sunday. It didn’t happen. So, I called it a week.
On the bright side, I gave myself a week of relative rest for a thigh that was obviously not doing well. Do I really need to run 30+ miles when my thigh aches in the morning? Probably not.
It’s a new week. The stress that I felt last week, which kept me from thinking, smiling, running, blogging, has lifted. And I’m not letting it pin me down again. In just a few weeks, the huge work projects, the move, the life changes will have hit their peaks and begun to roll down.
By the then the Cleveland Half will be done, I’ll be able to settle into my new house and I'll relax with a smile and a cupcake.
HOW CAN YOU STRESS ABOUT THAT?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Quick! Before it Rains!
I don’t know about you, but I’m a total wimp when it comes to rain (unless, of course, I’m running through mud in the woods!). All that wet makes things go the wrong way—my shoes, my clothes, the cars on the road—and makes me go a little nervous.
So, it’s good news that I finished my first 30+ mile week (this year) on Sunday morning while it was still sunny and just a little bit chilled.
The week began, as you know, with a stitchy short run, which didn’t bode well for my future. But things picked up on Thursday, when I met Salty at North Chagrin for an hour-long run on the trails.
I headed to North Chagrin right after work (with a Trader Joe’s pit-stop) and showed up over 30 minutes early—it turns out that when you don’t live an hour away from everything, you don’t have to leave over an hour early to get everywhere! That’s a lesson I’m eager to learn after we move. But it did give me time to run a 10:00 warm-up and rub out a kinky right calf that had been bothering me for a few days.
I was worried that my calf-tweaking was a sign of another injury, but it warmed, faded and hasn’t returned (knock on wood). Disaster averted?
Before this year, I hadn’t done much running-buddy running. And I’ll admit that the first time I ran with Landon, I was a little wary of running with people, thinking that I’d be too slow, too quiet, too weak, too drifty, too blah. Perhaps I’ll never know what accommodations my recent buds have made for me (soon, you can all start a support group ;-), but it’s all gone pretty smoothly and helped me get my run and knowledge on.
That’s the best part: everyone with whom I’ve run knows far more about racing and running and training and hydration than I’ll ever know. It’s like running school and it’s awesome. While I feel bad that I have little to contribute to their knowledge banks, my all-occasion sarcasm should suffice, right? And I think my endless collection of “this is how I hurt myself this time” stories are true keepsakes!
Another bonus: these people always seem to know where we’re going! You don’t have to ask Neil about our trip to San Fran (I turned an afternoon stroll through Pacific Heights to Golden Gate Park and across the bridge into a 15-mile all-day/all-night death march that left Neil bleeding and my tendon serrated) to know I’m not a good measurer of distance and time. I also have zero orientation in the woods. And while I realize knowing the trails comes with practice, it’s nice to run with people who have a clue.
Salty did a masterful job winding us through the trails and getting back to the parking lot in exactly an hour. We kept a nice pace, scaled a killer hill (not much brilliant story-sharing on that one!) and ran on a really pleasant evening last week. Yet my stitches came back to haunt me.
Not that I wish pain on anyone, but it made me feel better knowing that Salty has had her share of run-stopping stitches too. Plenty of articles I’ve read seemed to say, “Problem with stitches? Well, you’re either a wuss or you’re just plain out of shape.”
Au contraire, mon ami! Stitches happen to the best of ‘em.
Part of my stitch problem was mental—I’d fear their onset and freak when I felt them start churning their wrath. I’d spend time reading about preventing the things, but all the approaches I hadn’t taken would cross my mind when I started obsessing over what may or may not be a cramp in my side when I ran.
I’m a head case. I know.
So, thank you, Salty, for my stitchy reassurance!
Whether or not it was that reassurance, a mental lapse or some extra core-strengthening, I went stitch-free for the whole weekend. All 20+ miles of it!
On Saturday, I hit the Towpath with Neil for about 7 miles. Stealing an idea from Kate, I invited Neil to ride his bike on the path while I ran—that way he could take a leisurely ride, the way he likes it, and I could run a decent pace without having to worry about him—and it turned into a peachy afternoon jaunt.
After a warm-up, I ran semi-tempo for about three miles (9:30, 9:00, 8:18) before cooling down 3.5 miles back around 9:30-10:00/mile. Not only was it swell to spend time with him and have Neil as a semi-running buddy, it was clutch for me to have someone to distract me from the sounds of the woods. For some reason, the animal sounds seemed louder on Saturday, and it would have freaked me out had I been by myself.
Plus, Neil was prepared to throw his banana nut bread Clif Bar at any bear that crossed our paths. Swoon: my hero!
Finally, on Sunday, I woke up a little early and ate a low-digestion breakfast of a Think Thin bar and orange blossom iced tea, before heading out for my long run. I skipped Saturday’s Hermes 10-miler to focus on getting my longer-distances runs in. And I finally broke my 10-mile barrier with a 13.3-mile run from Stow to Hudson.
Word to the wise: if you ever use MapMyRun.com or any other brilliant tool for plotting out your next trip, don’t check the elevation until after the run. If you don’t hate yourself, that is.
I knew the trek between Stow and Hudson (no, I didn’t stop for cupcakes—I have a couple more weeks on that—but I did chug a B+guarana Vitamin Water that gave me heart palpitations for the rest of the day) was bumpy by car, but I didn’t process the hills until I saw this:
Elevation is shown at the bottom in blue. Yick! Instead of letting the thought defeat me, I tried to stay proud of my hill-running as I huffed and puffed up one and down the other. It was like winning a prize, however, kicking through the final stretch: not only has recent construction in my area created an accident runner’s bridge on a highway bridge I cross to get home, but I could feel every degree of downhill as I cruised into my neighborhood. Ahh.
I finished in 2:10:00 (~9:45/mile) and sealed my confidence that I’ll finish the Cleveland Half all right. It was my longest run in both time and distance since, well, the Akron Half.
Cleveland is two weeks from this Sunday, so I have time for a couple more long runs in and out of the rain. I won’t be breaking any speed records. But I might get to run half the race with Landon, who will run the full marathon, if I can keep up with him.
Either way, I do get cupcakes at the finish!
Marathon Training Week 3: 30 miles
So, it’s good news that I finished my first 30+ mile week (this year) on Sunday morning while it was still sunny and just a little bit chilled.
The week began, as you know, with a stitchy short run, which didn’t bode well for my future. But things picked up on Thursday, when I met Salty at North Chagrin for an hour-long run on the trails.
I headed to North Chagrin right after work (with a Trader Joe’s pit-stop) and showed up over 30 minutes early—it turns out that when you don’t live an hour away from everything, you don’t have to leave over an hour early to get everywhere! That’s a lesson I’m eager to learn after we move. But it did give me time to run a 10:00 warm-up and rub out a kinky right calf that had been bothering me for a few days.I was worried that my calf-tweaking was a sign of another injury, but it warmed, faded and hasn’t returned (knock on wood). Disaster averted?
Before this year, I hadn’t done much running-buddy running. And I’ll admit that the first time I ran with Landon, I was a little wary of running with people, thinking that I’d be too slow, too quiet, too weak, too drifty, too blah. Perhaps I’ll never know what accommodations my recent buds have made for me (soon, you can all start a support group ;-), but it’s all gone pretty smoothly and helped me get my run and knowledge on.
That’s the best part: everyone with whom I’ve run knows far more about racing and running and training and hydration than I’ll ever know. It’s like running school and it’s awesome. While I feel bad that I have little to contribute to their knowledge banks, my all-occasion sarcasm should suffice, right? And I think my endless collection of “this is how I hurt myself this time” stories are true keepsakes!
Another bonus: these people always seem to know where we’re going! You don’t have to ask Neil about our trip to San Fran (I turned an afternoon stroll through Pacific Heights to Golden Gate Park and across the bridge into a 15-mile all-day/all-night death march that left Neil bleeding and my tendon serrated) to know I’m not a good measurer of distance and time. I also have zero orientation in the woods. And while I realize knowing the trails comes with practice, it’s nice to run with people who have a clue.
Salty did a masterful job winding us through the trails and getting back to the parking lot in exactly an hour. We kept a nice pace, scaled a killer hill (not much brilliant story-sharing on that one!) and ran on a really pleasant evening last week. Yet my stitches came back to haunt me.
Not that I wish pain on anyone, but it made me feel better knowing that Salty has had her share of run-stopping stitches too. Plenty of articles I’ve read seemed to say, “Problem with stitches? Well, you’re either a wuss or you’re just plain out of shape.”Au contraire, mon ami! Stitches happen to the best of ‘em.
Part of my stitch problem was mental—I’d fear their onset and freak when I felt them start churning their wrath. I’d spend time reading about preventing the things, but all the approaches I hadn’t taken would cross my mind when I started obsessing over what may or may not be a cramp in my side when I ran.
I’m a head case. I know.
So, thank you, Salty, for my stitchy reassurance!
Whether or not it was that reassurance, a mental lapse or some extra core-strengthening, I went stitch-free for the whole weekend. All 20+ miles of it!
On Saturday, I hit the Towpath with Neil for about 7 miles. Stealing an idea from Kate, I invited Neil to ride his bike on the path while I ran—that way he could take a leisurely ride, the way he likes it, and I could run a decent pace without having to worry about him—and it turned into a peachy afternoon jaunt.
After a warm-up, I ran semi-tempo for about three miles (9:30, 9:00, 8:18) before cooling down 3.5 miles back around 9:30-10:00/mile. Not only was it swell to spend time with him and have Neil as a semi-running buddy, it was clutch for me to have someone to distract me from the sounds of the woods. For some reason, the animal sounds seemed louder on Saturday, and it would have freaked me out had I been by myself.Plus, Neil was prepared to throw his banana nut bread Clif Bar at any bear that crossed our paths. Swoon: my hero!
Finally, on Sunday, I woke up a little early and ate a low-digestion breakfast of a Think Thin bar and orange blossom iced tea, before heading out for my long run. I skipped Saturday’s Hermes 10-miler to focus on getting my longer-distances runs in. And I finally broke my 10-mile barrier with a 13.3-mile run from Stow to Hudson.
Word to the wise: if you ever use MapMyRun.com or any other brilliant tool for plotting out your next trip, don’t check the elevation until after the run. If you don’t hate yourself, that is.
I knew the trek between Stow and Hudson (no, I didn’t stop for cupcakes—I have a couple more weeks on that—but I did chug a B+guarana Vitamin Water that gave me heart palpitations for the rest of the day) was bumpy by car, but I didn’t process the hills until I saw this:
Elevation is shown at the bottom in blue. Yick! Instead of letting the thought defeat me, I tried to stay proud of my hill-running as I huffed and puffed up one and down the other. It was like winning a prize, however, kicking through the final stretch: not only has recent construction in my area created an accident runner’s bridge on a highway bridge I cross to get home, but I could feel every degree of downhill as I cruised into my neighborhood. Ahh.I finished in 2:10:00 (~9:45/mile) and sealed my confidence that I’ll finish the Cleveland Half all right. It was my longest run in both time and distance since, well, the Akron Half.
Cleveland is two weeks from this Sunday, so I have time for a couple more long runs in and out of the rain. I won’t be breaking any speed records. But I might get to run half the race with Landon, who will run the full marathon, if I can keep up with him.
Either way, I do get cupcakes at the finish!
Marathon Training Week 3: 30 miles
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