Worry is an unusual, but very effective, motivator

I went eight (8) miles yesterday. You should be so very proud. The weather was beautiful, and the humidity was low (and so was the Run-O-Cam's battery) -- a marvelous day for a long easy run out on the open road. But after the first four miles, I was tired and had lots to do. I had run well and since it was already getting late in the evening, I was going to just pack it up and go home.

But I went four more. Because I'm a wuss.

Now, I might have been able to run more of the last four if I'd at least gotten some water. My water was at my car. My car was in a parking lot that -- as I was approaching -- was quickly filling with fire trucks and police cars and various emergency squads. Two police cars blocked off the main road at either end of the parking lot, and were actually turning vehicles back. And my car, with my water, was parked -- alone -- in the middle of it all.

I probably could have simply asked one of the police officers what was up, should I move my car, can I please get my water. But I'm a wuss. I know it was probably just an alarm or a drill, but I couldn't help thinking that maybe they thought that my car shouldn't be there on a Sunday evening and therefore must be a threat, and so had called in an entire emergency crew to check it out. Because I'm imaginative and neurotic, too.

So I kept going. Because at the time I don't think I could have handled an interrogation, or even a suspicious glance. I figured that it would take me about another hour to do four more miles, and hoped that by that time they would have checked out what they needed to check out, or at least by that time I might be rational enough to address someone and beg to go home, because I just ran eight miles without water.

So after four more miles of mostly walking with intermittent running and some careful stretching, everyone had left, and my car was alone again as if nothing had happened while I was gone. And so I drank two bottles of water, changed into flip-flops and drove home, stopping only for ice cream. Glorious ice cream.

Good things come preprogrammed

There are days when I have to fight tooth and nail with my psyche to run a full mile. There are days when the *other* things in life outweigh working out. There are days when I'd rather gouge my eyes with spoons rather than put on my shoes and go for a run.

And then there are days like today, which seems to be headed for one of the above. You know, when my head just isn't in it. But I was kindly reminded of what lies ahead -- a marathon to be specific -- and I knew I couldn't skip out.

He: "So, you're doin' some running!? Keith said you're going to run a 5K or something?!"

Me: "I did a 5K back in June. I'm signed up to run the Marine Corps Marathon in October though."

He: "WHAT!? You're crazy girl! That's awesome! Good job!"

Me: [weak laughter] "Well I haven't done anything yet..."

He: "Yeah, but you've got more ambition than I've got. Good luck!"

(He being one who runs 8 miles at noon in the dead heat of summer.)

Accountability. It's a real bitch, you know.

So Keith and I went to the gym tonight. And I was going to wimp out and get on the elliptical (although, I must say the elliptical really is nothing to scoff at), but all the elliptical machines were in use. So I breathed a heavy sigh, selected my treadmill and climbed on. And then I figured out how to use the preprogrammed workouts. And I selected HILLS. AND THIS HAS FOREVER CHANGED MY LIFE. For I have just had the most incredible, challenging, satisfying, triumphant workout in a long while. Once I learned to pay attention to when the machine was going to incline so that I would not go rolling off the back of the belt, that is. Quads burning, sides cramping, lungs bursting, the steady pace throughout, the long, glorious sprint for the last 45 seconds -- it was more beautiful than a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream atop a warm brownie with hot fudge sauce.

Evidence of improvement

The solstice might be a few weeks away yet, but summer's already peeking around the corner. It wasn't quite as hot as it will be, but it was hazy, and I ran two miles yesterday in a cloud of tangible humidity, with deer flies jumping on my arms--those suckers land on you while you're moving! And they won't go away! They don't bother me quite as much as those damn sand fleas though; at least you can brush the deer flies away, and they're not so small that you can actually inhale them while you're running through a cloud of them. Ick. There was, however, a very nice breeze coming off the water. Nevertheless, it is very clear to me that I should learn to get up early on the weekdays and run in the morning.

I was supposed to run those two miles at a 12:37 pace, but I inadvertently ran a bit faster than that. As I approached the first mile marker, I looked at my watch and realized I had run the first mile in about 8:30. Whoa. I tried to slow it down a bit on the second mile, for fear that I would fizzle out and collapse in a wheezing, twitching heap on the side of the road, but it's hard to slow down when you're already feeling comfortable at a certain pace, and I finished at 17:38--that's roughly nine minutes for the second mile. I don't know that I could have run a full third mile, but I mean if I could, that would be *amazing* for me and the 5K I'm running next Saturday! I didn't think I could run that fast *ever,* and part of me still thinks my watch might be broken. Or maybe it's just the weather.

P.S. -- And oh, I left the Run-O-Cam in the car during running, but have some pictures of a snake Keith found in a tree near the car before we started. I'll post one for you later.

No point in beating around the bush

It's going to be a weird week because Thursday at 0500 we'll be in the car and driving out of the parking lot, embarking on a 10-hour drive to Savannah. Hopefully all this running will have paid off when I put on my fancy new dress.

Hence, I didn't bother making a running schedule for this week. Heck, since when have I adhered to my schedule anyway? Since I'll be in the car all day on Thursday AND Sunday -- both normal running days, and I don't know the area, so I don't know what kind of workout I'll get to do. But I hear Savannah is a great walking city, so maybe it will be a great running city too.

UPDATE (11:02 p.m.): Awesome workout tonight. It feels good to feel good after a run again.

Starting over

My first two weeks of marathon training have gone pretty well, except that I've skipped both of my long runs. For that reason, I'm starting over this week.

The first week, I skipped because of excessive soreness from being overly active during the week, and this past one I skipped because I didn't have time, and I mean that. I *really* truly did not have an hour to spare unless I skimped on sleep, and I figure my running won't be any better if I don't sleep enough. So I chose sleep.

No matter, I'm starting over, like I said, and that's that. No harm done. We're having company this weekend, but I might be able to wake up super-early on Sunday (if it's not raining!) to get out and run before anyone else wakes up. The weekend after that -- for the time being -- I'm FREE! I have NO plans! And the weekend after that I'll be in Savannah. And then my life will be back to normal. Rock on.

Catching up

Have you ever had those workouts where you work really hard and push yourself to finish even though it totally sucks and you do it and you should feel really good, but afterward you just want to go home and crochet a blanket for your mother-in-law?

I realize I've been really bad at blogging lately, for no other reason than that I'm busy, and it's a lame excuse. And I'm sorry. So today will be a comprehensive post of stuff I meant to write to you about.

Yesterday, I went to the gym and did a speed workout on the treadmill. It totally sucked. Then I did some strength training on my arms, because a strong upper body is supposed to make your body process oxygen more efficiently and therefore run better. As an added bonus, my arms, shoulders and back will be more shapely and less squishy when I wear my most beautiful new dress to Jen B's wedding at the end of this month.

This past weekend I went on a 7.5-mile hike with Jen A and Toby around St. Mary's Lake.

It was a good hike, but my body was completely exhausted from it (and last Thursday's run, gardening all day Friday, and doing standing lunges on Wednesday until I couldn't lift myself up anymore because I was talking to my mom and had lost count). That's why I didn't go on my long run Sunday. It was a good day for hiking, and apparently a good day for snakes to be out on the trail as well. We saw two: a little green snake which scared the living daylights out of Jen when she nearly stepped on it, and a bigger black snake which I thought at first, from a distance, was a bicycle tire (although Jen hadn't seen it at all until I pointed it out).

Then, on Wednesday, I went on a 4-mile walk with Mom because the weather was so nice. We saw a bunny who kindly let me take his picture.

6 down, 20 to go

Here I am jogging the first of 6 miles yesterday evening -- photo courtesy of Keith, who operated the Run-O-Cam, carried water, kept me company, cheered me on and calculated the percentage of the total distance that I had completed, all while following on Rollerblades. And I'm sure you'd like to commend me on a good show of perseverence in the face of procrastination. Why, thank you; you are too kind.

What is the muscle that connects between the top of the thigh and hip? (Iliacus? Psoas major?) The one you use to lift your leg, say, to walk up stairs or step into a pair of pants? Yeah, mine hurt in both legs, so I wore a dress today, but unfortunately must walk up stairs to exit the office trailer-trailer where I work, in order to use the restroom because I have been drinking Gatorade all morning. Thirsty. Other than that, I feel okay. A mixture of proud and scared, as I've set a new benchmark for runnable distance.

One more thing for the rest of the week -- some rules:

1. No soda, tea or coffee (hot chocolate and milkshakes are okay). Water and blue Gatorade instead.
2. Lots of stretching.
3. Clean the house because Kelly's staying over and Greg (Keith's dad) wants to install the ceiling fan (!) in our bedroom.

I do have something better to do (like run), but I'm trying to think of a way out of it

I got to talking with my friend's fiancé, Dave -- the crazy-runner-man -- over this past weekend, and he suggested that I should go out today and jog very slowly for 6 miles, since the race I'm running this weekend is twice the farthest distance I've ever run. Makes sense. Then he said, "or just do 5," when he saw the look on my face. I was supposed to do 6 miles on Sunday, but Sunday was really crappy, the whole weekend was stressful, and I did a lousy 2 miles on the treadmill instead. And I felt like crap afterward. The whole thing just sucked. Did I already blog about that? I can't remember.

I'm procrastinating right now, if you couldn't tell. I'm not really feeling the whole distance running thing. At least not today. Probably because of that whole perfectionist thing, remember? Let's blame it on that. Since I don't know that I can finish 6 miles, I don't even want to try. Not by myself. Because I really don't want to get to 4 or 5 miles and be stuck having to walk back, because I can't carry the Run-O-Cam AND a phone AND a key to get into my car to get my badge to get back into the building where my husband will be waiting to go home. And dude, it's chilly. Ohhhhh. I'd go twice around the neighborhood, but I feel weird running around there alone because I get the feeling people are looking at me like, Yo -- why are you running when the rest of us normal people are eating dinner and watching the evening news? Okay, getting up, publishing, changing clothes, going out, running slow but far.

Right now.

Really.

Sole mates

I got back on the road yesterday evening, albeit briefly and for the first time since the 5K. After the race, I was bothered with mild shin splints yet again, so I made the switch to my second pair of shoes, which are practically new. Although the run was not without pain, I could feel a definite difference in support with the newer shoes (which is exactly the same as my other pair of shoes, but I've only worn them once or twice). So hopefully I will be writing less about shin splints in the near future and more about the vast distances I've accomplished.

And now -- if I may -- let me give my shoes a long overdue shout out. They are the most wonderful running shoes I've ever owned, and obviously quite important to my success as a runner. They're made by Rykä, a company that specializes in women's athletic shoes. I wear the N-Gage Run, which I took a chance on and bought online after reading a review, and found that for runners with high arches -- like me -- it provides just the right amount of support without sacrificing flexibility. Plus they're super-light. Since I started running in them, I found that I don't have strain on my plantar fascia, or the ankle and knee problems that I used to have (from supination). Word.

T minus

So here we are: the day before race day. Yesterday Keith and I took a 2.5-mile walk around the neighborhood. Spring is definitely on the way, with all the daffodils, crocus, forsythia and Bradford pears in bloom.


I'm hoping to finish the race in 35 minutes or less, as there is a St. Patrick's Day parade that follows the same route starting 45 minutes after the race and I would hate to get lapped by a float. Keith and I are heading up that way in a little while, so SIL Kelly and I can pick up our race packets in Timonium. I'm a bit anxious, mostly from not having been to any of these places before, but also because my shins are feeling a bit tender. I'm stretching them, icing them, and eating plenty of ice cream. And I just try to remember that in the end I will get a new t-shirt and free beer, which is -- after all -- what running is all about.

Time out

I know, I've been a bad blogger. It was an unusually busy week/weekend, and with the time change, I'm feeling a little jetlagged. Or DST-lagged.

Sunday I went for a ~2 - 3-mile run with Kelly. It felt pretty good, and was nice for both of us to have a chance to run together once before the big day! (And my shins are feeling pretty good, too.) Kelly found out from her aunt and uncle -- who've run the race before -- that the course is mostly downhill, starts at a bar and ends at a bar. Perfect.

Dignity and a new pair of socks

If I could wish for one thing, it would be to finish the St. Paddy's Day 5K with a bit of dignity, half a muffin and a large strawberry daquiri. Alas, I have been unable to follow my special 5K training plan because of my whiny shin tendons, who get all inflamed every time I try to run a little. So as it is, I may just get the muffin and strawberry daquiri. Oh, I'm sure I'll finish the 5K. But it may take 45 minutes, and I won't have any dignity by the end. Although I will have a new t-shirt.

In order to keep doing something without making my moderate case of shinsplints worse, I've been replacing the running days with cross training: elliptical, walking. I tried another 2 mile run on Sunday, although it was supposed to be 2.5 miles, this time starting on the bridge side. Good idea because running across the never-ending bridge wasn't as frustrating, however, the rest of the course was mainly uphill, which my shins clearly did NOT like. So I did a combination of running and walking instead. (In case you're wondering, I have been icing the shins--well, technically I have been frozen cranberry-ing the shins--taking ibuprofen and doing a simple shin-tendon strengthening exercise to take care of the suckers.)

I also bought three pairs of bamboo socks over the weekend. They are super-soft and naturally antibacterial, but significantly thinner than my regular old cotton socks, so my feet weren't as warm and my shoes weren't as snug, thus they kept coming untied. Ah well. Live and learn.

One word

Shinsplints

Two miles of surprise

I ran two miles today. It hurt. A LOT. I've also confirmed what I knew to be true in the first place, but chose to carefully ignore because it's cold outside: I'm going to have to start spending more time running on the road, because it took me by surprise. The asphalt doesn't move.

Besides sheer frustration with the running being so HARD, the horrid sound of my own rasping breath began to irritate me to no end, so that every other sound, every movement, every vehicle that passed, drove me closer to The Edge, until I nearly hurled my camera at a crow that was CAW-CAW-CAWing at me on the other side of the road.

At that point I could see the first mile marker, and suddenly walking became a very attractive option. Very. Attractive. Still, I passed the marker and kept. on. running, telling myself that if I finished a full two-mile run, I would feel good inside. I feel alright. Besides, when I'm out running, I always have this irrational self-conscious feeling that someone is watching. And taking notes.

I was very glad to reach the final half-mile, which spanned the length of a very straight bridge. Have you seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail? You know the part where Sir Lancelot is charging across a field toward Swamp Castle (I *think*) as the camera cuts back and forth between the castle guards and Sir Lancelot, and the drums are rolling, badum-badum-badum-badum-badum, but he isn't getting any closer? Yeah. Me running across the bridge.

At some point--probably when I was dead-set on walking for a minute or two or five or ten--it occured to me that two miles is the longest distance I have ever run at once. So I kept going, I did not throw my camera at anything, I did not get hit by a stray golf ball, I did not get trapped in an infinite time loop on the bridge, and I did not throw up at the end although I had thought I might, my chest and diaphragm and abs were contracting so hard. I ran it in just under 21 minutes, which is not a fantastic time, but it surprised me. Heck, finishing surprised me too.

Catching up

Sorry for the light posting this week: I was planning on posting Tuesday night after I got home, but ended up on the phone all evening with Jen B who was having the one of the most terrible weeks imaginable. I was then going to post last night, but got home late from WIFLing at mom's and ended up on the phone with Jen B again for a short while as she called to tell me the MOST EXCELLENT NEWS that I think has made the fog of terribleness lift. And then I was tired and went straight to bed, although not before *finally* burning a CD of Ok Go so that I can play "You're So Damn Hot" at my desk. What can I say? It makes me feel good.

What I would have written on Tuesday and/or Wednesday is this:

I did 30 minutes on the treadmill at the gym because it was cold! and dark! outside. But I must say, it felt darn good. Not from the throbbing in my ankle, nor the steady tightening in my chest as my lungs struggled for oxygen, nor the deafening lub-lub-lub-lub-lub of my pulse, nor the searing in my quads and hamstrings and glutes and calves and TIBIALIS ANTERIOR as I forced them to continue moving against their collective will--no, no. It felt darn good because I ran on that treadmill at a steady 11-minute-mile pace for 20 minutes before I started to notice how much it freakin' hurt or that the music I thought was in my head was actually coming from the mp3 player someone else had left in the holder thing.

Cardiomania!

Keith called me at work today to ask if I wanted to go with him to the gym tonight. That's right: He called to ask me. It must be a cold day in hell.*

I started on the elliptical machine, which I normally hate, only today I realized how amazingly well the darn thing works every leg muscle I own, and consequently the cardiovascular system. Then I got on the treadmill--because I can't stay away!--started running and couldn't stop. I was not aware that it was possible for me to run for 45 minutes on a 1 percent incline (to simulate the resistance of outdoor conditions!), but hey, you learn something new every day. I now believe that running a 5K is a reasonably attainable goal. Even cologne boy on the neighboring treadmill didn't bother me.

Although, now I'm home and sitting down and quite frankly, I'm afraid to stop moving. I know what will happen. Tomorrow morning I will awaken to weak rays of sunlight crawling through the windows and I will smile and think, "Ahh! Another day! A chance to start brand-new! What a beautiful gift!" only to be interrupted by the sound of my abs and glutes and quads and hamstrings and calves and shin muscles screaming in threatening chorus, "DAMN YOU, WOMAN!"

*His words, not mine.

Le Grande Battement

Tonight I went over to my mom's house and we completed the NYC Ballet workout 1. I don't think we'll be auditioning for The Nutcracker any time soon. In fact, we would probably get thrown out of class for not properly respecting the spiritual art experience of the ballet dancers and making smartass comments to accompany the disembodied Bavarian male voice's instructions: "In dis stretch, you should feel your hamstring and calf mossels..." "Yes, I most definitely feel my hamstring and calf mossels."

Beyond that, all I have to say (in my best Bavarian accent) is, "DUN FORGET TO BREATE!" Thank goodness! I knew I was missing something!

Back on the road again

Even though I know it's just a tease, the warm weather and later sunset (well, that's not a tease) made for a pleasant evening of aerobic goodness.

Now as it turns out, perfectionism is a psychological condition. And after a very careful and highly reliable self-diagnosis via the Wikipedia article, I think I can safely state that I am perfectly pathological and neurotic. Apparently this is unhealty. All jokes aside, it makes perfect sense, then, why I feel as though I have completely failed and thus hate myself for it.

So today I instituted a new kind of workout, to force myself out of the comforting bonds of regimented scheduling, list-making and the inevitable self-deprecation. You will notice this week's schedule is blank, except for today, whose goal was to do "Something. Anything." So for two liberating miles, I did Whatever I Feel Like, henceforth known as WIFL (pronounced "wiffle"): today's WIFL in the form of completely unstructured run/walk intervals, although this was mainly due to the fact that I forgot my watch with the interval timer. And it was very nice.

I even enjoyed the running part more than I have in a very long time. Unlike a treadmill, it is more difficult to control my running pace on the road, and inevitably I start off too hard and too fast and end up feeling like if I could just keep running without my lungs exploding, maybe all the body fat will just detach from my frame by force of impact and I can kick it away into the woods. So I decided since today's goal was simply to move, I would run (jog) at what I thought would be the slowest, most pathetic pace I could muster. Which turned out to be exactly perfect.

And I returned home feeling a little cheerful, which is quite a change indeed.

And yes, I am sore today

Yesterday I completed my first workout that included running. Ten minutes of it. Total. And it was freakin' hard. I've never felt fatter than when my legs were tired of running and my feet came down harder on the ground than I intended them to, and it seemed as if the entire earth was quaking with every Thud. Thud. Thud. But of course that's only because I was moving at a prolonged intensity that I have not attempted since ... oh God, I can't remember.

GO!

It's official! Today I completed the first workout of my marathon training--a 30 minute brisk walk--despite the overwhelming urge not to because it was gloomy and dark. As you can see from this blurry one, I *was* actually moving.

I wanted to start with 30 minute walks for several reasons. First of all, I haven't been running in a very long time and didn't think it would be a good idea to destroy my knees right off the bat. Second, as I reached the end of the walk (exactly 2 miles in 30 minutes, not too shabby in my opinion) I was overcome with a nearly irresistable urge to break into a full out sprint the rest of the way to my car. And by forcing myself to maintain a brisk walking pace--no more, no less--I realized that I am also exercising the mental restraint I will need to keep from running as fast as I possibly can early on and burning out in the middle of a race.

I then came home after narrowly avoiding an accident which would have become a four-car pile-up if my brakes weren't so darn good and ate a medium-sized slice of pie. Pecan. For protein.