Running resistance. And more dogs chasing me.

Workout: 16 miles (2:55:58) and a lot of sitting around wondering if I should go run outside in the rain.

Let's get one thing clear: I did not want to run 16 miles today.  Nope nope nope.  My body was ready, but my mind was weak.

I farted around again before doing this run.  I was actually dressed and ready for this run at 6:30 A.M. today.  That's right-6:30.  And I didn't start running until about 2:30 this afternoon.

Believe me, I had about 3 hours to think about why this happened.

Mile 0:  In the house.  Waiting.

I spent many many hours dressed and looking out the window.  It was a rainy morning, and I knew that I should have just sucked it up and went out in the rain.  Today was an unseasonably cool day with the high temps topping the low 60s, and many times I got up to go outside but found some stupid excuse not to go.  One time, around noon, I even napped in my chair.  What the hell did I have to be tired about?!?  Sheesh.  Mentally I did not want to do this run.  But out the door I dragged myself in the late afternoon, with a plan to bag the run if I wasn't feeling it after 5 miles.

Mile 2: NOT INTO IT.

I decided to do a 3-mile out-and-back by my house first in case I wanted to call it quits earlier than 5 miles.  Yes, it was that bad.  When I was headed back toward the house, my quads were whining and I was whining and I was sweating and I was just not into it, baby.  Not at all.  I stopped to loosen the laces on my right shoe (no more tendinitis as a result of my own stupidity thankyouverymuch), and then kept going.  I decided I would make it back to the house and reevaluate.

Mile 3: Meh.  Not so bad after all.

I was feeling pretty groovy coming down the street by my house.  I think it's because I slowed down and went at a pace my legs liked, considering they had been abused by a 17.5 mile bike ride yesterday.  I stopped by the house to use the bathroom, because I always have to pee by mile 3 (I love that this rhymes for some reason).  After tricking my bladder and being happy that I wasn't peeing outside for once, I headed back out to finish the run.  I was feeling pretty good, too, until...

Mile 8: I don't want to do this anymore but I have no one to come and get me.

I was in capris and calf sleeves.  I was getting warm.  The sun was coming out.  I was sweating.  Basically, I was a whiny mess.  I kept reminding myself that I was halfway done, that I only had to go out another few miles before turning around to go home, and that my legs were not as tired as my brain was.  I kept on trucking.  I had to, because my husband was out of town and no one else was around to come and get me.

Mile 9.69: Liko.

I was heading down my last road, ready to hit mile 10 and turn around.  And then I met the massive mammal known as Liko.

I heard someone yelling off to my right, and then I saw a man running through the cornfield in front of his farm, frantically calling out "LIKO!" over and over again.  I couldn't see what he was chasing or what he was calling until I looked toward the driveway...and saw a black tail poking up above the tops of the now waist-high corn.

And then Liko appeared.  He is a St. Bernard/English Mastiff mix, with a nice brindle coat and a massive St. Bernard head that oozes white slobber.  And he was heading right for me, barking all the way.

This is not Liko.  But it sure is what he looked like.  Only with a brindle coat and more slobber.

I fumbled for my pepper spray.  The tiny little canister didn't look like it would be any match for the canine behemoth heading toward me, but I got it out anyway and prepared for the onslaught by standing perfectly and completely still. And trying not to soil my running capris.

Liko stopped when he got to me.  He barked at me.  And then began to sniff and slobber all over me (he was also part crotch-hound, apparently) with his massive head.  His owner caught up to us at that point, grabbing the dog and apologizing the entire time, insisting the dog was friendly.

Well, Liko didn't eat my arms off the minute he got to me, so I figured he wasn't that bad.  I put my hand out to pet him (as his owner was straddling him and sitting on him like a horse), and he gave it a big slobbery kiss.  After that he let me pet him, and he even tried to join me as I ran in the opposite direction.

At least next time he would know who I was.  Still won't stop me from being scared you-know-whatless as that big tail and head comes around the corner and bounding down the street.


Mile 10: *Bleepitybleep*

Thank God I only have a 10K left.  (Did I really think that?!?)  Now only to get up this hill and to the road that leads to home...oh hello parent of a child I had in class this last school year sitting on a tractor in your farm field, how are you?  Oh me?  Not doing anything, really, but trying to make it home so I can shower and get all this stink off me; and you?  What are you up to today?


Miles 11-15: I'm hungry.

I was hungry.  Hungry hungry hungry.  This was probably not the best run to limit my gel intake to try and get my body to use its fat as fuel.  I was tempted to sample the field corn.  Or at least gnaw on some leaves.  I would have gladly eaten some snow if it were winter.  It was close to dinner time.  I was hungry.  These miles were filled with multiple and slightly salacious thoughts of food.  At least it kept my mind off how tired I was.

Mile 16:  Finishing strong.  I think.

I played a very motivating-to-me song on my iPod on repeat for this mile because it was the only thing stopping me from sitting down.  This was my fastest mile (9:55) and my legs felt like lead.  After it was over I actually left myself a half-mile cushion to walk and cool down before reaching my house.  I like to do this after long runs because I think it helps with recovery.  And because I'm a total and complete wimp.


I think my resistance to this run has to do with my increasing boredom with my usual running routes.  Don't get me wrong; I run in some breathtaking countryside (especially when a skunk has been set off or has died in a ditch).  But I think it's time for some changes.  So, I have decided that, for each of my long runs, I'm going to go somewhere different to run.  A trail, a new town, or even over to where I now work to run the path through town.  Just SOMETHING different, something to look forward to, something to get my butt out the door and keep my mind occupied with the differentness.

A girl can only look at so many cornfields, you know.  Especially when she's hungry on the run.


photo credit: Tracy Lee via photopin cc

I'm tired, so all you get today is a bulleted list.

Workout: 17.5-ish miles on the bike; 45 minutes of upper body weight work courtesy of Cathe's Total Body Trisets Upper Body Split DVD.

My brain is tired.  I don't have the ability to form multiple coherent paragraphs today.  So, in the spirit of the information age and paying homage to the fact that everyone's brains have been reprogrammed to only tolerate about a sentence's worth of information at a time before skipping to something else, I have decided to write this post as a series of possible status updates I could have written on Facebook about my workouts today.  I'll get to them now just in case your attention is already starting to wane:

• I only do push-ups so I won't look even more ridiculous than I already do climbing up ropes and walls in my obstacle course races.
• I think I pulled a bicep.  Is that even possible?
• Great bike-ride today: no dogs chased me or even had the courage to give me snarky "How dare you pass my territory hairless monkey on a machine?!?" looks.
• Boy, the smell of manure plus rotting trash sure makes for one unique olfactory experience.
• Cars: do not slow down as I slow down-PASS ME ALREADY SO I CAN TURN.  I'm attached to the bike, dammit!
• If a car hit me while I was riding, I wonder if the resultant force would be enough to unclip my shoes from the pedals and send me sprawling through the air like a ragdoll.
• Boy, car that passed me out on Stone Quarry Road; are you sure giving me an inch of space while you passed me was enough?  
• With this bike ride and weight workout today, I wonder how much I have screwed myself for my 16 mile long run tomorrow.

And because I cater to all learning styles on my little blog here, I have included a headless and armless picture of the cute Avia tank top I wore today, with which I am in a heavy state of like:

Now if I can only get rid of some of the fat underneath that tank top.  Maybe that will happen during my 16 miler tomorrow.

That was some hot heat out there this morning while my movement was in motion.

Workout: Intended 7.5 mile tempo, ended up with 4 miles of crap.

Have you ever asked a group of 15 year-olds to describe what "heat" is without having them use the word "hot?"  It's about the same amount of fun as having them describe what "motion" is without using the word "movement.

This morning, while running in the heat at 8 A.M. because I farted around again after getting up at 5 A.M., it was hard to describe the heat as anything but "hot."  Except for maybe "damn hot" or "hot as fire" or "hotter than my husband when he's asleep and pouring forth heat like a nuclear reactor or a supernova."

It was pretty hot.  And humid.  Yay Illinois!

I wanted to do a 7.5 mile tempo (5 at 10K pace), and I was keeping the pace to around 9 minutes per mile just so I could finish the entire run.  But the hot heat had other plans for me.  I had to stop just before mile 4 and start walking.  It was just too much.  It didn't help that I was running in a place with no shade, either.  If I wait to run that late again I am going to hit the shaded trail about 20 minutes away from my house rather than being an idiot and running in the summer sun here in almost Wisconsin.

Was I disappointed I couldn't make it?  Sure was.  But, to paraphrase a picture I saw on Facebook this morning, it's better to have a bad run than no run at all.   I decided I wouldn't freak out about it, and focus on the good things about the run.  There were two of them, the first being:

1) I am in love with my new Brooks Glycerin 11s.

I wore these shoes on all of my runs for Ragnar Wasatch Back this last weekend, and I wore them on my heat-hot sort-of tempo run this morning.  They seem lighter than the 10s, and they are more flexible.  And, this just may be my crazy brain's perception, but I feel like they are less "squooshy."  The 10s give you a smooth and soft ride, but the 11s seems to give you a good amount of cushion without feeling so soft.  Being the neutral-footed runner that I am, I don't really want a lot of cushion--I just want enough.  Enough is enough, you know?

The second good thing about the run was:

2) I thought my new running skirt totally sucked, but it doesn't.

(Please note the awesome running hair that I have when I wear a visor.  I have no running shame.)

I have reviewed this skirt before, but I only ran 4 miles in it.  When I wore it for my 11.6 mile night run at Wasatch Back, however, I ended up with a nice chafe on the inside of my left thigh.  You see, the shorts underneath the skirt have the seams on the OUTSIDE, not the inside, in order to prevent chafing.  But they failed to realize that runners such as myself would be running with one leg of the compression shorts higher than the other, and will run all weird and wacky so as to chafe on only one leg using the seams from the other leg's shorts.  How could they not plan for stupid runners like me who run all wrong in their products?  Sheesh.

Because I was sure I was just being running-skirt challenged (and the skirt is so cute I just had to give it another chance), I wore it this morning for my hot-heat run.  I am happy to report that no chafing occurred, especially since I was sure to have the shorts the same length underneath.  That's not to say it wouldn't happen again at longer distances; now I know not to wear this on a long run.  I'll save my sparkle-sparkley skirts for those.


So, in the face of a bad run, I have found some goodness.  I'm still determined to get my mileage in, however, and plan on doing a brick workout tomorrow with the bike (15 miles + 3 mile run), and then doing some weights.

Hopefully I won't be dawdling in the morning, waiting for the hot heat to start before I get my movement in motion.

The weather is a lie.

Workout: 2.5 mile run outside, 4.88 miles on the bike, 2.5 mile run on the treadmill.

I have a duathlon coming up on July 7th that consist of two 5K races on either end of a 13 mile bike ride.  I was snooping around online, looking at the results from last year.

The female winner from last year won in an hour and 13 minutes.  It's going to take me about 45 minutes for the bike portion alone, and take me about 27 minutes apiece for the 5Ks.  According to those estimates I should come in...oh.....last.

I should know better than to check out past results for events.  I must remember I can't compare my page 1 (actually, with duathlons, I'm still in the preface to the book rather than the actual book itself) to someone else's page 2,375.

And it doesn't help that I wanted to do a brick workout today, but the weather wasn't on my side.  If I had done this workout when I should have (about 8 AM), then it all would have worked out fine.  But no--I had to fart around for another hour before I got started.  I did manage to check the weather when said farting-around was occurring, and this is what it said:

Click to embiggen.

The weather is a lie.  

I headed out for the first 2.5 mile run at about 9:15 AM, and there were a few raindrops I had to dodge here and there, but no major "rain event" was taking place.  When I got back to the house after 25 minutes and got ready to get on the bike, it had started to rain a bit heavier.  

As I headed out on the bike, the heavens opened up and poured forth their mighty aquatic fury upon me.

Well, it wasn't that bad.  But it was raining pretty heavily, and big ol' raindrops were smacking into my eyeballs.  Sweat was also being washed down into my eyes, making them sting sting sting.  Other than the pain, it was a refreshing ride in the rain.  I was going to ride for 8 miles, but turned around at about the 2.5 mile mark and headed back to the house because I determined that around 5 miles of refreshment was all I could handle.  When I got home I was soaked to the bone, so my 2nd transition was a lot longer than I expected--I had to get the bike inside, wipe it down, and change my clothes entirely.  Since it was still pouring, I decided to finish the last 2.5 miles on the treadmill.

Have I mentioned that I hate running on the treadmill?

Those 2.5 miles dragged on and on and on.  And on.  And on and on. And oooonnnnnnnnnnnnnn.  The satellite was out, so I had no TV to watch--it was just me and my music, wishing the run would be over with so I could go take a shower.  

Those kind of thoughts never run through my mind when running outside.  I know I should be grateful I even have a treadmill to do all my bad weather running, but it doesn't make it any mentally easier.

And it's not easy to watch lakes forming around your house in a span of two hours:

Now I get to spend the rest of the day babysitting my basement and hoping that the sump pump keeps pumping.  You're all jealous, I know.

Ragnar Wasatch Back 2013: Holy crap. Mountains.

Workout: Monday-15 miles on the bike (55:52)  followed by 20 minutes of upper-body weights and 10 minutes of abs.  Tuesday-6 x 800m repeats on the treadmill (unfortunately).

Those workouts above are pretty damn good, I think, for a woman who ran in the mountains this past weekend.

Yes, kiddos, I got the great privilege to be a part of another fantastic Ragnar team through Digital Running.  This time we trekked up into the mountains for the 10th anniversary edition of Ragnar Relay Wasatch Back.

Team Great Salt Ache, #241

Now, this Midwestern girl really didn't know what she was getting herself into.  When I signed up for this relay, all I heard was "Ragnar" and "Relay" and "10th anniversary" and "really cool finisher medal."  For some reason my geographical knowledge didn't kick in at the time and realize that we would be in the mountains.  You know, where you have to run up way up high and stuff?

Well that crucial bit of knowledge kicked in on the plane when we started our descent into Salt Lake City.  I saw the Wasatch Mountains from the plane's window and promptly began to have an internal freakout:

"THIS JUST GOT REAL...I HAVE TO RUN UP AND DOWN THOSE THINGS."

And then I wondered if I could catch a flight home as soon as I got off the plane.  I think this is only a natural gut-level response from someone who comes from an elevation of about 870 feet above sea level.

But the more rational part of me prevailed, and I got off the plane and made it through the airport to meet the rest of the team.  After a snafu with the vans that resulted in us having to rent SUVs from another company, we were off to our usual WalMart run and then to the hotel to grab some dinner and catch some sleep before our mountainous adventure began.

Dinnah with our awesome team.

The next morning our adventure began at Utah State University in Logan, UT at 5 AM:

Most people might consider a 5 AM start time a little insane, but we came to cherish this later in the race when we were always arriving at exchanges before everyone else and leaving just as the vans started to pour in.  We managed some pictures in the dark at the starting line, and then we were off to trudge run like gazelles survive running in the Wasatch Mountains.

I was runner number 9, which meant I was in Van #2 again (I'm a Van #1 virgin).  I rather enjoy being in Van 2, because you get to ease into the relay by having time to go to breakfast and get to the first major exchange early.  However, you do get all jazzed up waiting for your turn to run, so by the time your first leg comes, you start getting the "I have to pee a zillion times" and the "Why am I hungry all of a sudden standing in the chute" crazy nervousness happening that only goes away after you finally hit the road running.

You also get nervous before running the Wasatch Back when you seeing sights like this while driving to your first exchange:

Holy crap.  Mountains. I had no idea how I would run at this altitude, but I quickly found out on my first leg. But we had tons of time to wait at our first exchange, so, of course, we took pictures:

Those are band-aids on my face.  This made for some sweet tan lines later.

Pro-compression Ragnar socks!

I know you are jealous of our Ragnar orange skirts.  We certainly were dressed to impress.  I just thought that if I was going to suffer in the mountains, I was going to look good doing it.  Speaking of suffering, let's talk about my legs, shall we?


Leg #1: 3.2 miles

This leg was labelled as "easy," and it was, really--easier than my last leg for sure.  It was pretty flat, and the weather was nice and sunny, with temperatures in the 70s.  But for someone accustomed to being lower to sea level, I found I was struggling to maintain what is normally an easy pace for me.  I managed an 8:30 for the first mile, but after the midpoint I was sucking wind and just barely hanging on to an 8:55 pace.  Stupid lungs, needing oxygen that was now in rarer supply in the air around me at 5000 feet above sea level.

That's when I knew I was going to have to back off a bit on my goals for my next run or my lungs would secede from my body.


Leg #2: 11.6 miles

I began this run feeling awesome leg-wise.  For past Ragnars, I have usually had a long-ish run at the start that makes me start my second run a bit fatigued (and I measure my fatigue by how badly my quads are screaming at me).  But this time my quads were quiet, and when I started the run I had to do a lot more mental preparation than physical.  First, I told myself I would run at a pace that was comfortable for my lungs so I could make it to the end of these 11.6 miles.  Next, I wouldn't let myself think of this run as one loooooong 11.6 miler; I forced myself to think of it as two 5.75 mile runs in order to make the distance more manageable. I wasn't afraid of the distance-not after running four 20 milers for my marathon in April--but I was afraid that my lungs wouldn't be able to handle the pace at which I would have liked to run it (9:00).  So, I started off at about a 10:00 pace, but started picking it up way too early in the run.

That's when I decided to make some friends so I could pace myself.  I went into survival mode.

In the 4th mile I met up with a woman (I wish I had gotten her name!) who looked like she was running at the pace at which I should have been running, so I asked her if I could run with her for a bit.  We chatted for the next 5 miles or so, talking about running (surprise!), families, marathons, how much the headwind sucked, and how we both needed way more hill training.  Some people joined our conversations briefly as they paced with us for a while and then moved on to join the line of blinking red lights in front of us.  I stopped and walked with her when she needed it, and she caught up with me when I was feeling speedy.

At about mile 9.5 she needed to walk again, and told me to go on ahead of her (she could tell my legs were wanting to go).  I left her and went forward, grateful for her company all of those miles underneath the cloudless sky that held an intensely bright full moon.

Soon after I pulled ahead we hit the last water stop, where I slowed down enough to grab some water.  I heard another runner ahead of me ask the water stop volunteers how many miles we had left, and they told him 2 miles.  Since my watch said we had about 2.6 miles left, I told him that as I passed him throwing his cup in the trash can.  And that's when I met Justin from team Mohawk Madness.

He told me he was asked to run this relay after not running for a long time, and he asked me if he could run with me.  I of course said he could, and we then battled our way through the last of the mileage, chatting about education (we are both college profs) and how cold it was getting--I couldn't really feel my fingers by the end of the run.  Let's just say getting the slap bracelet off turned into an exercise in frustration because my fingers wouldn't work anymore.

The cruelest part of this run was the last tenth of a mile.  The run itself was pretty flat, with a slight uphill climb the entire time.  Slight, that is, until you turned right to head to the exchange, and then you encountered a steep hill that was almost a wall.  Justin and I powered up the hill together, pushing each other to get to that exchange.  I did manage to get the slap bracelet off my arm and onto the wrist of our next runner (Tim), and then promptly caught my breath by bending over and letting loose a stream of swear words in my head.

But it was the best night run on a Ragnar I have ever had.  It was like no one was competing out there; we were all united by the run.  Just a bunch of friendly crazy runners trying to get to the next exchange, happy to be out in the Utah night among the stars, headlamps, and blinking red butt-lights of the other runners.

How I felt during that run is why I do Ragnars.  Hell, it's why I run at all.

I started shivering as soon as I got into the van afterwards, so I changed as quickly as possible at the next exchange in a Honey Bucket (port-a-john), taking a flashlight with me because port-a-johns, if you don't know, do not have lights in them.  I then got back to the van, snuggled up under my blanket, and promptly passed out until we got to the next major exchange.  I woke up briefly to have breakfast and then  passed out again in the van until it was time for our first runner to be up on deck (Tiffany).  And then we were off, running our last set of legs.


Leg #3: 4.4 miles

I put on my purplest purple outfit for this run, because purple is my lucky racing color.  Besides, with the mountain I had to run, I was going to need all the luck I could get.

This was my hardest run.  Ever.  Out of any run I have ever done, this was the toughest thing I have ever had to do.  As a matter of fact, I use the term "run" loosely, because I power-walked up most of this mountain, not ran. Below is a rare shot of me running on this leg (and I was walking before I saw the camera.  Shame on me):

I did run the first 1.5 miles because they were flat, but as soon as I hit the base of the mountain, the steepness and heat got me and I had to start walking.  I was bummed about this, but my lungs were burning, I was gasping for air, and my legs were feeling the 11.6 miles from the night before.  I tried to run when I could, but it seemed that there was no recovery, not even when I was walking--parts of this mountain were so steep that even walking was making me wheeze like I had emphysema or something.  My only other option besides walking was to sit down and roll back down the mountain.

My view "running" up the mountain.

And then Justin appeared beside me.  I was so happy.

He and I power-walked/ran up the rest of the mountain.  We complained through the steep switchbacks, reveled in the short flat part near the end, discussed our weight-loss journeys, and then raced each other into the chute so our next runner could start on his/her epic 4 mile journey on the STEEPER part of the mountain.  If it hadn't been for Justin, I just don't think I would have made it.  But I did.  And I had enough energy to cheer on our next runner, who had to trek up the rest of the mountain, and looked like this afterwards:

Why do we do this again?  Oh, because it's fun.

We made it to the finish line in about 30 hours, receiving the awesome finisher medal that I had heard about that made me sign up for this race in the first place.

It was another awesome time on an awesome team and an awesome experience.  This was, by far, the toughest Ragnar I have run, but every moment of "why the HELL am I doing this" was worth it.  Afterwards we all hashed out our experiences, swapped stories, and bemoaned our new aches and pains.

But the one question that kept coming up was this:

"What's your next Ragnar?"

Yep.  We're addicts alright.  Even suffering running in the mountains can't cure us; it just keeps us jonesing for more.
  

Just keep going until you reach the food and bathrooms.

Workout: 12.39 miles on the bike in 46:25.  Snot-rocketing always slows me down.  

This morning surprised me by being cold.  I had to wear a base layer and a thin jacket on the bike.  Thankfully my gargantuan legs needed no excess covering other than my bike shorts for modesty, because their mass generates enough heat on the run or bike to power a small town.  Or independent nation.  Anyway, the morning was clear, the dogs were few, the snot rockets clean and true, and a nice short ride was had in preparation for Ragnaring it up in Utah this weekend.

Speaking of Ragnar, I've mentioned before that it is one of those things that, 8 years ago when I started all this "getting healthy" crap, I never even dreamed I would do.  Running a marathon is right up there with Ragnars, too--I never used to see the point in running, least of all running 26.2 miles of my own volition (and paying for the privilege!).

That is, I never saw the point until I realized that the point of running isn't running itself.  The point is to test your mettle and see how far you can push yourself, to see if you've got the grit to really dig down and see what you're made of...to see what you can really accomplish if you get rid of all the mental junk standing in your way.  Because, as all of us runners know, the battle is mainly mental, not physical, in accomplishing your running goals.  You have to listen to that inner voice that is driving you onward, forward, and spewing forth abuse the likes of which would make a Hell's Angel blush.  Well, if you're listening to MY inner voice, that's what you're hearing.  And then you're sucking it up and running some more because you need to get to where the food and the bathroom is, trying not to cross the line into injury and having to limp home the last 5 miles.

As you can tell, I have built up some rudimentary (if not entirely healthy) mental fortitude when it comes to my running goals.  Every race for which I have signed up I have done so with the knowledge and confidence that I could do it.  I knew it may take some training, putting in some time in before the race, but I always saw myself crossing the finish line with some sort of victory in hand after spending a lot of time in preparation.

So why can't I do the same thing when it comes to the professional presentations and workshops that I put on for fellow educators?

I did a two-day workshop this week on the flipped classroom.

And I freaked out for the 3 or 4 days before it was scheduled.  My inner voice was a whiny puny mess, not wanting to put anything together, dragging my mental feet along the ground and mumbling like a petulant child.  But my bad mental behavior was not because I didn't want to do it.(I had signed a contract to do this, after all; I HAD to.)

It's because I was afraid I would suck.

I had the same feeling before my Google Sites workshop, the training I did for my Science department on our new national standards, and before the last major presentations I did at conferences.  I feel the same way now about a presentation I have to give in July (the same weekend as a Ragnar! Argh!), and I've given this presentation before at other conferences.

Somehow I need to transfer the determination and confidence I have while running to my professional life. Maybe I'm feeling this way because of all the change going on right now in my life: I'm changing jobs, leaving a job I've had for the past 12 years where I know how everything is run and how everyone is and jumping way outside of my comfort zone into new and uncharted administrative territory.

Looks like I've got some mental junk to clear out of my professional path.  Just like when I'm running, I guess I'm going to have to suck it up and keep moving.  I hope there's food and bathrooms where I'm going.

This running skirt thing is getting out of hand.

Workout: 4 miles at a comfy pace in the nice cool 50 degree temps of the early morning here in northern Illinois/almost Wisconsin.

This week I was supposed to start my marathon training plan.  In fact, I was fully intending on doing my 5 x 1000m workout on the training schedule this morning.  However, my legs had other ideas.  It seems my quads were a bit cranky with me after my 17.5 mile ride yesterday, and my shin splints are whining more than usual.  I still wanted to get a run in, so I decided instead just to do an easy 4-miler and enjoy the run.  And enjoy my new running skirt from runningskirts.com:

If you can't see, it's got all the running distances written on the skirt, from 5K on up to all of the distances I will only dream about doing.  I have to say this skirt was pretty awesome.  I bought what they call the "athletic skirt," which means it has compression shorts underneath.  Those shorts are comfortable and don't ride up during the run.  The seams are all on the outside of the shorts, so that means no chafing, ladies.  There are also two pockets on each side of the skirt that close in the center with velcro--pretty handy for iPods, gels, or small phones. (I couldn't imagine running with a big clunker of a phone in this pocket, though; it would quickly become a projectile and then become what they call "broken.")  While not cheap, you can tell they were designed with some foresight and with a runner's needs in mind.

This running skirt thing is getting out of hand.  They make me look like a girl or something.

Nevertheless, I will suck it up and wear it during my 11.6 mile night run this weekend at Ragnar Wasatch Back.  I have the cutest blue top, blue calf sleeves, and running shoes to go with it.  It's really too bad, then, that all people will be able to see of me at that time of night is my bobbing headlight and flashing butt-light.

But I digress into the realm of fashion; let's meander back into the realm of my marathon training plan.  Since this week is pretty much all thrown to hell, I decided tomorrow will be a much shorter ride on the bike with some light yoga afterwards, and then a rest day on Thursday while I'm traveling to Utah.

After Ragnar, however, will get decidedly trickier...I will have to recover for a few days and then resume some training.  I think I will do some easy runs and gear up for the long run that's on the schedule for the weekend (16 miles).  After that, I can resume training as usual.  I don't mind skipping the two speed sessions next week, simply because I will have 14 more weeks to enjoy them.  Oh the joys of marathon training!  At least I'll have a cute running skirt to do it in.

Cross training makes my heart grow fonder.

Workout: Cross training (cycling, 17.5 miles); Upper-body weights & abs (at the end of Cathe's Body Max DVD)

Cross training makes my grow fond of running (because I miss my runs on the days I don't run), but it also makes me grow fond of more cross training.  This whole cycling thing I have taken to doing on my non-running days is getting pretty addictive.

And I'm actually able to shift gears properly, along with knowing actually when to shift gears.  Learning by doing.  It's a wonderful thing.

I decided I wanted to cycle about 17 miles today because I have a duathlon on July 7th for which I need to be prepared.  The bike portion of that duathlon is 15 miles, so, being the overachiever that I am, want to be overprepared.  I mapped out a nice route, thinking I was going to head north first and then west, and then head back east towards the house.

And then, mid-bike, something made me change my mind.  I think it was the devil.  Yep, ol' Beelzebub himself.  Regardless of what sinister supernatural forces were controlling my brain, I decided to bike the route in the exact reverse of what I planned because there was one hill that I would rather bike down than up.

Yeah.  Little did I know that this decision meant that the rest of the ride would mean way more uphills than downhills.  Damn you, glaciated terrain of northern Illinois.  Damn you to hell.

Here is the elevation profile from the ride:

I know that if you live in a region of mountainous terrain you think I'm a total wimp right now.  And I am, really.  But I am a Midwestern gal, and I am used to flatness.  In fact, I'm used to flatness that is flat.  But little did I know of the rolling hills that lay to the west of my house.  Hills of pure evil, I tell you. 

But they were good training.  I was shifting gears like a madwoman, learning what felt best for each type of hill.  Thus I saved my quads a lot of undue suffering on this ride, which is good, because I have a Ragnar in Utah to run this weekend.

Did you know that Utah is, like, in the mountains?  If not, check out the elevation profile of my last run:

Click to embiggen.

If I had to bike up that hill I would implode into a mental pile of goo.

The crazy part is this is just one half of a hill.  The leg after this one is the infamous Ragnar Hill, where the elevation change is about 1700 feet over about 4 miles.  I'm getting off easy, ladies and gents, with only a 1510 net elevation change.  So I guess I should stop whining about all my little rolling hills this morning and focus on the suffering that will be my last leg this weekend.

I still may implode into a mental pile of goo after running up that hill.  (Instructions on Ragnar's site at the 1.5 mile mark are simply to "Run up the mountain."  Maybe it should add "Cry but keep going, dammit" at mile 2.)  But I'll have to do my implosion after I'm done so the van can cart me away.

So who else farts around before a summer long run?

Yesterday morning I ran Brett's Run, the very first 5K I ever ran, on my 3rd annversary of being smoke-free.  It's actually the fourth time I've run it, and I love it every time.  It's a flat out-and-back course through a subdivision, and is always very well run.

It also helps that it is only 10 minutes from my house.

It was raining pretty hard when the race started, and I was dressed in my orange sparkle skirt in order to test it out under race conditions (I will be wearing it in my next Ragnar this weekend and wanted to see what it was like at higher speeds).  Since the race t-shirts everyone was wearing were orange, I blended right in.  However, I will never understand why people insist on wearing the cotton race t-shirts they get during the race itself--especially when it is pouring down rain.  The thing becomes like a lead weight on your back while racing.  There's a reason God invented wicking fabrics, people.

Anyhoo, I had a good run.  Since I was not interested in causing any injuries, I was determined to push it, but not go all out.  That's why I set my watch to just tell me my pace after each lap rather than my instantaneous pace, so I wouldn't get all caught up in the numbers. Besides--it's always good to learn how to run by feel than by the dictates of a little black rectangle on your wrist.  Because of that, I ended up running a 26:39, which is about an 8:20 pace.  I negative split this race, starting at about an 8:37 and then speeding up to around 8:15 or so, which I am happy about.

The other thing I can be happy about is that I didn't let some lady pass me in the last 0.1 mile.  I was coming down the home stretch towards the chute, and, out the corner of my right eye, I saw a woman start to book it, trying to pass me.

The only thought going through my head was, "OH, HELL NO."

I really dug deep, and was surprised by how much energy I had.  I schooled her easily, passing her and two other people on my way to the finish line, leaving them in the wake of my sparkly orange skirt.  My last 0.19 of a mile was run at a 6:50 pace, which tells me I had way more gas in the tank than I thought I did.  Somewhere I have become a bit of a mental wimp, and I am going to have to whip myself into shape, realizing I have more energy than I think I do.  This will be something on which to work during my next round of training, which starts tomorrow.  (Twin Cities Marathon, here I come!)

After the race, I checked the results and saw that I had placed third in my age group.  So I sat in the driving rain and waited for my name to be called.

Only my name was never called.  The original results posted were wrong; I came in 4th, not third.  Have to love those kind of screw-ups (not really).  

I came home exhausted, but I fully intended to go for an 11 mile run in the afternoon rather than risk potential injury at my Warrior Dash.  Why 11 miles?  Because my legs for Ragnar Wasatch Back were switched, and now I am runner #9, which has an 11.6 mile night run.  I had every intention of going on that run until I fell asleep for 3 hours in my bean bag chair.  (Note to self: I am too old to fall asleep in bean bag chairs unless I would like to seriously mess up my back.)  After that mega-nap, I was in no mood to do anything but eat dinner and go to bed.  So, that's what I did, intending to do a long run the next day.

I got up this morning at 5 A.M. and was planning on doing my run (I was aiming for 16 miles) at 7 A.M.  It looked vastly different outside than the rainy day before:

Instagrammed for your viewing pleasure.

But because I have this nasty habit of farting around and getting caught up in stupid TV shows, I didn't head out until 9 A.M., when it was much hotter and more humid.  I also chose to run a route that has very little shade, and a lot of it was run with my back to the wind.

Please learn from my mistakes, people.

I was miserable from mile 1.  I was actually very cranky to start with for other reasons, so I was having a hard time finding that awesome running groove I usually slip into by mile 2.  I'm pretty sure I scowled at everything and everyone for the first hour.  My legs were feeling the faster running from the day before, I was wearing thick calf sleeves because a shin splint had started to act up on my left leg.

These were warm in the winter.  And today in the heat.

  

Thankfully that shin splint was quiet on the run.  If it acted up, I probably would have just scowled at it to get it back in line.  Around mile 5 or so I began to feel better, so I decided to do 14 miles, turning around at the 7 mile mark.

It was right after I turned around that I really began to feel the heat.  By that time it was about 10:30, and the heat was really getting obnoxious.  I know the temperature was only about 78 degrees, but when you're running without wind and without shade, it feels like you're burning alive--especially if you haven't really run regularly in the heat yet.  Thankfully, God invented Camelbak hydration backpacks, and I had mine on and was drinking every mile.  I also had 5 gels with me, so I was fueling about every 40 minutes.  Without my water and food, I really would have bit the dust out there and maybe even resorted to calling the hubbs to come get me while I sat in the road and cried.

Even with my water and fuel, I had to start run/walking the last 3 miles.  My legs actually felt OK, but I felt like I had no gas whatsoever.  What I started doing was walking for about 200 meters and then running a half a mile, repeating that sequence until I made it home.  Did I feel like a total wimp for doing this?  Yes.  Was I glad I did so I could make it to where the food and cold water was?  Absolutely.  Am I going to start slower on my next hot run?  You bet.

The most important question, however, is this: Am I actually going to get out the door at 6 or 7 AM to avoid looking like this at the end of my run?

YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES.

Things I don't miss about smoking.

Today's workout was a nice three mile run in preparation for a Ragnar-esque day of racing tomorrow.  I will be doing a 5K race in the morning, and then driving down to Channahon, IL, to do the Warrior Dash held down there.  I plan on racing the first one and doing the second one just for fun.  Well, really I do the second one to dive into mud and over fire and get really cool pictures of me doing that.

But the first race tomorrow.....that one is special to me.  It was the very first 5K I ever ran.

It's called Brett's Run, and it is named in honor of a young boy who was tragically killed after getting hit by a car.  The proceeds go towards scholarships for seniors at the local high school.  I do run it for that cause, but I also run this race because it was my introduction to road racing, and got me hooked on running.

It was also the very first 5K I did after quitting smoking. (I ran this race 2 days after quitting.)  And, this year, the race is on the same day as the anniversary of my quit date.  So, I am running the race that was my very first 5K on the 3-year anniversary of the day I officially quit smoking.

Finishing Brett's Run in 2011, my 2nd time

You can see why this is special to me.  My life and how I live has completely been turned around by running and quitting smoking.  I'm doing things I never thought I would do (marathons, Ragnars, obstacle courses races where I get to jump over fire and mud) when I was a two pack-a-day smoker who had about 80 more pounds on her.

But I do miss the act of smoking sometimes.  Ciggies were my buddies in time of stressful need.  They were who I turned to when I could no longer cope with work stress or the fact that my house is in a constant state of deconstruction and construction.  Cigarettes were there for me when no one else was, with all their nicotine-addictive goodness.

Thankfully running and cycling and weight-lifting and yoga now take the place of my former socially acceptable form of drug addiction.  But, tomorrow being the 3-year anniversary of my quit date, I thought I would enumerate things I actually don't miss about smoking rather than focusing on what I do miss.  This will not only serve to inform the masses, but also provide me a way to insert a bulleted list, because I ♥ bulleted lists, baby.

So, away we go:

• Having your clothes stink constantly of eau de ashtray.
• The smell of your first two fingers.  Yeesh.
• Having respiratory infections while smoking.  Being sick when you smoke is so much worse.
• Chest pains waking me up at night.  I had these for at least 5 years (and I smoked a total of 16).
• Hiding the fact that you smoke from others around you.  I went to great pains to not let my coworkers know I smoked, which sometimes led to me doing very stupid things.
• Being so addicted to smoking that you will sneak out for a smoke at the worst times.  On teacher institute days when we were allowed to go out to lunch, I used to drive around and just smoke.  Stupid.
• Freaking out-and I mean outright PANIC ATTACKS-at the thought of running out of cigarettes.  Addict thinking right there; but when you're in it, you can't see it.  Pathetic.
• Thinking that $50.00 for a carton of cigs was way too much to spend, but I spent it anyway because I had to have my ciggies.

Finishing in 2012.  Purple shorts ahoy!

Tomorrow, when I'm in the last half mile of that 5K, I will be uncomfortable.  I will want to stop.  I will want to slow down.  (I won't want a cigarette, though.)

But when I cross the finish line I will be damn happy I don't smoke anymore.

Cycling, running, and naps.

Today's workout was 15 miles on the bike.  Cycling is fast becoming a workout to which I look forward (as long as I'm not snot-rocketing and almost losing my balance and slamming the nails of my right hand into the handlebars or falling off the bike).

The one thing I don't like about it, however, is that I'm too scared to wear my headphones during a ride.

For some reason I will blast music on a run, not caring if I can hear anything around me (dangerous, I know; the hubbs is AWESOME at the safety lecture, thankyouverymuch).  On the bike I am scared you-know-whatless to not hear a car come up behind me.  Maybe it's because I am riding with traffic and I run against traffic.  Maybe it's because I am a much faster moving object on the bike whose motion will need to be changed using a higher force due to my higher acceleration (thanks, Newton), and this force can send me hurtling through the air much like a projectile with only gravity to act as an unbalanced force to make me slam into the ground.  Or maybe it's because I'm a total moron with a subconscious death wish.  Who knows?

I do miss my music during bike rides, because it really does motivate me.  I couldn't have gotten through the last 3 miles of my marathon without it, because it allows me to go inside the music and forget about my suffering for a while.  Without music, I would probably realize that what I was doing was totally insane and sit down in the middle of the course, trying not to cry and begging passing runners for food.  Or a ride back to my car.

But if you have a music snob in your life, you realize that not all music is created equal.  You see, I will listen to whatever will motivate me to keep putting one foot in front of the other, whether that music be deemed "cool" or not.  I guess you could say that I have a lot of musical guilty pleasures on the old iPod shuffle that I use on my runs.  Here are a few of those gems:

• "Disturbia" & "Please Don't Stop the Music" by Rhianna
• "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen
• "Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats (That song is old.  I hope they found their hats by now.)
• Pretty much anything by Lady GaGa
• Any flamboyant song by Erasure (which is pretty much all of them)

You see, when I'm running, I really could care less about lyrics.  I only care about the beat and the overall tone of the song.  Sometimes I want the driving beat of some crazy metal song, especially when I'm slamming out some speed work.  Other times I need the music to back off and help me enjoy the long run.  When I'm racing, I don't remember what songs come on half the time because I am focused solely on meeting my goals and I just need some background noise in order to get that focus and accomplish them.  I just switch the ol' iPod on "shuffle" and let the music play away while my mind goes somewhere else for a while.

So I guess you could say I'm not really thinking on a run.  I'm just running so I can think clearly later.

Or just take a nap afterwards.  I'm still tired from Ragnar, and all I can really think of right now is naps.

Holy cannoli I'm one with the universe.

This is the ecard to send someone who has just run a Ragnar:

Alright, enough sanitary jocularity.  On to the exercise vomit.

I did not work out at all on Sunday.  It was the day after a Ragnar in which I ran 22 total miles rather then my expected 19.  I'm crazy, but not insane.  I want to get to my next Ragnar uninjured (which is fast approaching!  More about that later!  With lots of exclamation marks and girly squealing!).

Part of my Ragnar noninjury plan was to do weights on Monday and go cycling on Tuesday.  I did miss riding my bike while Ragnaring it this weekend, but I do not miss what I look like while biking.

I'm so pretty.  Look at that bike helmet hair.

I was trying out a new Zoot cycling tank that had a built-in bra.  It fit nicely except for the fact that it kept riding up during the ride and exposing parts of my nether regions that don't normally get to feel the breeze on the bike, if you know what I mean.  Maybe if I shove tons of gels and food in the back pockets it will get weighed down and stay down like a good cycling tank should.

I biked 12 miles and had some pretty good 5-mile splits for me (both under 19 minutes).  I finally managed to get the bike to shift in the front so the chain is on the large gear.  May the mechanical advantage be with me.  (Until I start cycling up a steep hill, that is.)  But what I love about cycling is not the fact that I look like a total moron trying to shift my front gears; it's the fact that when you're cycling in the cool of the morning (I'm talking 5 AM morning) and the sun is coming up and the wind isn't fighting you for once and the birds are signing and there are no dogs chasing you and you're not producing snot like a hagfish....cycling can be just as "holy cannoli I'm one with the universe" a moment as running.

In other words, it was a good 12 mile ride.

Today I ventured back into running after Ragnar Chicago trying out my new purple running skirt from Sparkle Skirts:

Yes, I need to vacuum.

Trying out this skirt was the sole motivating factor getting me out of my office chair and out the door this morning. Since the Ragnar, I have been in perpetual nap mode, with my eyes regularly closing without my consent during the middle of the day.  This makes it hard to do things like train your replacement at your old job before you leave for your new job, make screencasts to put on websites, and create a curriculum map so the new people will actually know how to teach the courses you've been teaching for 12 years.

But the shiny swirly purpleness of this skirt got me movin' and a groovin', and I managed to do 4 miles this morning.  The first mile I felt like I was running through mud, with my legs reminding me that "HEY--DID YOU KNOW WE JUST RAN A RAGNAR?  NO?  WELL WE DID.  MORON."  But after that mile they began to stop their whining, and I managed a nice pace in the 9s afterwards.

And that's the pace I want to keep when I run my next Ragnar in less than two weeks.  Yes, you read that correctly--this girl gets to fly to Utah to do Ragnar Wasatch Back! (Insert girly squeal here.)  It's the 10th anniversary, and I've heard that the medal is going to be spectacular.  Because running, you see, is not just about those "one with the universe" moments.

It's also about the bling, baby.

Ragnar Relay Chicago 2013: Moo.

You know how much my husband loves me?  He loves me enough to let me go run from Madison to Chicago on our 10th anniversary. (I think the 10th anniversary should be heretoforthwith known as a "Ragnarversary.") He even loves me enough to drop me off in Madison and then come and get me in Chicago when we finish.

But I do love me a Ragnar, and this one was just as awesome as a Ragnar from Madison to Chicago could be (and awesomer than last year, because the temperatures were much more tolerable).  In case you don't know what a Ragnar is, that's where 12 crazy people (or 6 even crazier people) run about 200 miles from one city to another, running various legs of varying length, handing off a sweaty slap bracelet as they go.  I usually run with a great running team from Digital Running Club, who puts together teams of strangers to run these types of events.  This is my third time with a Digital Running Club team, and I really do enjoy running with them.  The teams are well organized, prepared, and you basically just show up and run with 11 other great runners.  If you ever get the hankering to run a Ragnar, I would suggest you look to them first.

Our team name on this Ragnar Chicago was How Now Spotted Cow, and we even had a team mascot:

Whiskey the Cow drinks and texts like the sophisticated modern cow that he is.

Spots on bottom, spots on top.  Me and awesome runner #10, Whitney, at the starting line.

I was runner #7 this time around, a spot of which I am growing fond.  While it means you have to be up on deck first before everyone else in the van (and not getting to sleep as long), it also means you are done with your running before everyone else--so you can spend your time cheering on your teammates and serving as their own personal race photographer:

Runner #9 - Justin

Runner #8 - Denise

Runner #11 - Bob

Let's review my legs, shall we?

Leg #1: "7.5" miles

I managed to get a nap in before my first leg, which made me feel much better (it got rid of my headache).  After that, I popped out of the van and headed on down to my exchange.

Please note the SWEET cow shorts I had on, courtesy of Running Funky, where you can get running stuff in all sorts of crazy-arse prints.  My first handoff went smoothly:

I trucked briefly along a city street, and then entered the Glacial Drumlin Trail at the trail head.  After settling in to a nice pace after 2 miles, I was running quite nicely.  There was a nice breeze, there was shade, and the path was nice and green (yay no brown!).  I hit the water station at about mile 4, and then took a left turn onto a street.

Problem was, I didn't remember any left-hand turns that early from looking at the leg map earlier, so I was a tad concerned.  But since there was an official Ragnar sign telling me to turn left, I let it be the boss of me and turned left onto a road that was nothing but rolling hills.  I then took a right at the next intersection, and then up more hills (!) to another intersection, where I recognized the street names.  By that time I was heading towards mile 7.2, and was looking desperately for an exchange.

I didn't see one.  Instead, I got told by another team that another 3.8 miles had been tacked on to my leg, and I would be running 11.3 miles now due to unexpected construction on a bridge along my original route.

Talk about having to shift into an entirely different mental space--from "ALMOST DONE!" to "HOLY YOU-KNOW-WHAT I HAVE 4 MORE MILES TO RUN I'LL NEVER MAKE IT OH GOD IT'S SO HOT I THINK I WILL DIE WHY DIDN'T I BRING ANY WATER WITH MEEEEE"

Yeah.  Mental games are fun.  I had to keep telling myself I had run half marathons in hotter weather and at a much faster pace, so I needed to suck it up, buttercup.

My van found me around that time, and the awesome runner #8 (Denise) offered to run the extra miles for me (twice!), but I didn't want to mess up her legs, and besides--I always finish what I start.  So finish I did, with a little walking right before mile 10 to reset my legs and mental state.

Finishing the "7.5" mile leg. I managed to grab some water right before my team found me.

I still managed a 9:27 average pace for those miles, so I was pretty happy.  After all, in a Ragnar, you don't want to run your first leg too all-out, or you'll hit the wall in your later legs.  Speaking of those later legs, let's move on to....

Leg #2: 5.2 mile run (Night Run)

I was worried about this run.  After 11.3 unexpected miles, I was worried my quads would be trashed.  But it's amazing what 4 months of marathon training and an unexpected running buddy can do for your stamina.  My quads felt good the entire time--not tight and screaming like they were last year at this Ragnar.  I started off at about 11:15 P.M., and I was determined to do a slower first mile and then speed up so as to let my legs ease into the running.  I did accomplish that with a 10:00 first mile, but then I met up with a fellow runner waiting at a light, and we decided to run together for the rest of the run.

It was gorgeous.  Soul-renewing.  The night runs are always my favorite.

The night was cool, the company was good, and helped push me up yet another hill at the end of the run.  I came in right on time, with an average pace of 9:20.  Just the kind of run that helps you sleep soundly in the van before your next run...

Leg #3: 6 mile run

I got in some good sleep after my night run.  We arrived at Exchange 30 at about 5:30 A.M.,  and I woke up and thought I was too jazzed to go back to sleep.  Well, I thought that until my head hit the van seat and I passed out until 7 A.M.  I then woke up and got ready for the run.

This 6.0 mile run was way more mental than physical.

It was a beautiful run, and I got to see the Great Lakes Naval Station on the McCrory Bike Trail.  The breeze from Lake Michigan was cool, there was shade on the path, and no one passed me (that I remember, anyway).  But the whole time I had to push myself to keep going, checking in with my quads and realizing that they weren't as tired as I thought they were--my mind was much more tired than my body.  I had to convince myself to run in 400 m increments, and, after I met each tiny goal, push myself to do another 400 meters.  This is what I did for 6 miles until I finally saw the glorious exchange that signaled the end of my running.

People didn't realize I was all triumphant because I had managed to run the entire thing.

I pulled off a 9:28 pace for that run, which is good for me at the end of a Ragnar.  I felt exhausted but ecstatic--now I could relax, wipe myself down with baby wipes for the last time, cheer on the rest of my team, and dream of a hot shower and a good teeth brushing.

We reached the finish line around 3 P.M. on Saturday, which was on Montrose Beach in downtown Chicago:

Overall, I was very happy with this Ragnar.  One of my secret goals was not to walk on any of my legs this time around, and I am considering that goal achieved--I didn't walk any of my ORIGINAL mileage.  I am also happy that I made some fantastic new friends, and I hope to run with all of them again in the future.

Until I do, I will leave them and you with the best Ragnar advice I've ever seen:

Wiser words were never spoken.  Or at least written on the side of a van at a Ragnar Relay.