Leap Year = One More Day to Train

For St. Malachi, that is. This year’s race falls on Saturday, March 15, and if you haven’t already registered, do it now!

Neither my mind nor my body is ready for racing right now, but I still have a little less than one month to go. At least I have Feb. 29, my one extra day, to prepare for my first race of the season.

And that preparation officially started today: I ran for one hour at about 10:00/mile pace around my neighborhood. The run wasn't particularly fast or long, but it felt great just getting it done. What a good way to get my new schedule rolling...

It was super-sunny outside this afternoon, which made the bitter cold easier to bear. I was dressed in my typical fleece running jacket, thermal headband, and my new Mizuno running tights (I’ll obsess about these things another time), while most of the people I passed were going sans coats and one guy was wearing a sweatshirt while washing his car. Weather.com promised in was 25 degrees; I believed it. You would think that being the person running that I would think it was warmer. You would think that.

Yet I was more taken aback by how creakedy my body felt as I warmed up. Sure, my running schedule has been pretty jumpy, but I haven’t had shin splints and calf cramps and general fatigue quite like I felt today.

I thought that the new running shoes I picked up this afternoon from Vertical Runner (they were a gift from my dad—thanks, pops!) would make me fly, fly, fly… but I just felt stiff and flat-footed.

My first inclination was to blame the shoes. Were they too big, too wide, too bulky? I tried different tying configurations, but I was just in denial. My new Mizuno Wave Inspire 4 (the same shoe I bought last year; new colors) are kickin’. Granted, they don’t have the magic fairy dust I needed today, but I don’t think those are race-legal anyway. Sigh.

Thirty-five minutes into the run, I hit the point at which I either a) wanted to stop and go take a nap ASAP; or b) keep running because my lactic threshold was just around the corner. For the sake of not being a wuss, I chose option b. And it worked. The latter half of the run was pretty smooth. My shoes felt like a reinvigorated version of my old Mizunos, and now my training plan in under way.

That plan: build distance every day at a healthy pace. Avoid injuries. Eye progress, but don’t force my hand (or foot). In other words, don’t be stupid (again). Perhaps I’ll follow that notion all year long.

Come Monday (or some other day next week), I should have a clue what’s wrong with me. That’s not an open invitation for speculation ;-) Following today’s run I felt fantastic for 1-2 hours; I ate dinner and I was fine; and then I ate some honeydew and wanted to cry.

Was it bad honeydew (it tasted great!)? Was it delayed digestion? Was it just runner’s stomach? Who knows.

Lucky for me, this thing seems to pass after whatever is miffing my stomach makes its way through. But I would prefer eating in peace, scarfing my cake and loving it too.

I’m fairly certain, however, that all the non-injury problems I’ve had over the past year have been the result of bad karma. For years I was one of those horrible people who bragged about how she never ever got sick. Ever. Look at me now! Have you known (and hated) a person like that? Well, now you know what happens to us. So, tell your children to brag about something else, like being tall. I’m curious about what happens to people like that.

Speaking of tall people, I hope you didn’t miss the All-Star Weekend Slam-Dunk Contest. It’s my favorite event of February. After my birthday, that is. I always like watching talented people being creative and reaching for the stars. And, in Dwight Howard’s case, pretty much touching the stars.

Sure, I’m horribly jealous of tall and incredibly able-bodied people. Some of that envy turns to inspiration. I won’t be dunking any basketballs soon, but I like when people reinforce the idea of aiming high. So, aim high, my blogger friend. Aim high.

Even if I’m not going to run the Cleveland Half Marathon….

I can still prepare. Besides, you never know when a good race might just pop up in your neighborhood. And sometimes you can just make your own.

I woke up this morning without even the slightest urge to run. It was foggy outside and expected to rain for hours and hours on end. I felt cold and tired and blah, blah, blah. But I’ve adopted my “don’t think about it, just do it” philosophy, particularly with swimming, without any attribution to Nike, thank you very much. So, I toiled over how to dress for the weather (as always, I overdressed with a fleece), made a deal with Neil to meet me near his junk food store, and headed out the door.

When I chose my 10-mile iPod workout setting, I thought, “well, I can set it at ten and see how far I actually go.” Ten miles later I was glad I did.

Today I ran the route I rode my bike last season, which I thought was long, tiring and uber-hilly. And as I cruised through it, I began to doubt a) my shape last year and b) my cycling abilities. The hills were harsh, but I didn’t feel the same agonizing burn I got when I rode my bike. So, I began thinking that I should really get back to bike training and hope that the pain was more a product of my out-of-shapiness than my ineptitude in bike-riding. I’m still dealing with this running thing!

As I previously mentioned, I’m trying to pick up my pace. And I realized something about myself today: I can run faster than my 9-minute St. Malachi miles! I really listened to my body and paid attention to pace this time and realized that whether my body gets tired, I’m likely to settle into a slower pace and never go back. So, whenever I felt exhausted or tired, I just picked it up a notch.

Yes, I thought about my 200-yard fly sets and was able to maintain a 7:37/mile pace for my first 10-mile run.

My last five miles were all around 7:30 (but the first couple miles were a little pokey). In fact, as I was finishing up mile 10, I passed a couple out for a walk and the guy said, “Hey, great pace!” Now that was nice to hear!

And I only found it a little strange that my casual, yet considerably more-hilly Saturday morning run was not only double my St. Malachi run, but generally faster. I realize that I didn’t actually “race” that run (my goal was to just finish!). But if I wouldn’t have slunk into that sub-G pace, I could have premiered in far snazzier fashion!

So, I met up with Neil at our designated spot. He stood outside the store holding a big jug of Gatorade—the one thing in the world I needed at that moment. I had long been paranoid about hydration (especially since my couple of bad instances with dehydration), but I made sure I had been thoroughly hydrated over the past several days, as well as this morning, and felt fine throughout the run (thanks for the advice Salty One!).

It took me a little over an hour twenty to run the 10 miles, so I was really great on the hydration front. Plus, it was damp outside (and, oh, the puddles!) and maybe 45-50 degrees. But I was glowing with accomplishment!

My feet, however, were sore after the run—to be expected. But my shoes might be looking forward to retirement as much as I am. Melissa gave me a little bit of lowdown on running shoes the other day and warned that mine might need to be replaced (I don’t quite remember when I bought them, but it was probably around… July?). They were my first pair of running shoes since about 1993, and I was wearing those 1993 shoes when I first started running last spring. It was no surprise when I had some serious foot problems. I’d like to not make that same mistake this time around.

But what shoes to get? Which shoes are on your feet?