Don't want to do your run? Trick that brain of yours.

So it's been a few days since I've tortured everyone with a blog post and I know you're dying to know what fitnessy stuff I've been doing.  Well, here it is:

Some running in a minor polar vortex (the real one is getting here tomorrow)....

SO EXCITED to run in 3 degree weather + snow
freezing to my eyebrows as I ran. So.  Excited.

Pit stop after the first 3.5 = a run in two parts.

Did I mention the 3 degrees thing?!?

Some spin and lifting heavy things and taking bad post-workout selfies...

The black sparkle paint is the best part of the pic.

...and some treadmill speed work to the tune of 8 miles total, 4 of those being one mile repeats @ 8:34 pace.

I must confess that I didn't want to do either of those two running workouts because...well I think the obvious reasons are "too freaking cold outside" and "mile freaking repeats."  But part of my determination to lose 20 pounds by this summer is to complete the running workouts as listed in my trusty My Run Plan app, no matter how cringe-worthy or shriek-inducing (mile repeat workouts do this to me every time).  So away I went on those two runs, doing them anyway even though my brain was all NOPE NOPE NOPE PLEASE NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOPE the whole time. 

Now, I haven't always been able to get past my brain NOPE-ing away workouts, especially if I lie to myself and say I'll do them after work (NOPE).  But lately I've been using some tips and tricks to ignore the NOPE and get the run done, which are helpfully enumerated for you below:

1) For cold winter runs, have the right gear.  If you have the right gear, you can run in the cold with confidence.  For my winter runs I make sure I have some pretty awesomely printed fleece-lined tights and a lot of sass to make it to the end of the run:

So much sass.  And awesome tights.

On top of all that (or underneath, as it were), I also have a thin base-layer tight to keep that warm air right next to my skin, a nice thick running turtleneck under a quilted running jacket, a buff, a balaclava, and a neat-o Ragnar hat to top off the ensemble.  When I run in super cold weather that's pretty much my running uniform, only with different obnoxiously colored tights and hats.  Gotta be sure to mix that up, you know, so the people in the cars passing you don't get bored of looking at your same old tired running outfit.

2) Also for cold winter runs, always know that it's never as bad as you think it will be.  The weather forecasts for those days always put my NOPE brain on overdrive, but once I get out there and start running it's usually never as cold or as miserable as I think it will be.  Unless I forget that water freezes at 32 degrees Celsius and don't have it in an insulated bottle and have no liquid water for for 15 miles of a 20-mile run...then it *is* as bad as it seems.  Especially when you're eating snow from the side of the road and spitting out gravel as you truck on down the road...then it's pretty freaking miserable and you're only running because if you stop moving you'll freeze on the spot and die.

But that's still not as miserable as doing all those miles on the treadmill.

3) Speaking of treadmills, those little running equivalencies I blogged about earlier sure do come in handy.  This is especially true for the longer more torturous repeats, such as the 4 x 1 mile repeats I did this morning.  My mind likes to break down those little mile repeats into more little four quarters, and then celebrate when I reach the halfway point and the "ONE MORE LOOP TO GO" point.  After which I walk for a minute and a half and then do it all over again, making my brain conveniently forget the mile I just did. (Brain: Hey, didn't we just do one of these?  Me: WE DID NOTHING NOW RUN)

4) When you don't want to do your treadmill run, get on the treadmill anyway--but have a backup plan. When I got on the 'mill this morning I went in with a backup plan - if I felt I was going to die running an 8:34 pace, then I would alternate quarters during each mile, running an 8:34 and then an 8:40.  That way I could have a little bit of slower running to look forward to, even if it wasn't much of a plan.  (By the way, my backup plan to the backup plan was just to sit on the treadmill and sob in my smelly basement.)

Welcome to my smelly basement, where
I run next to a set of doors and a pile of lumber.

5) Fun socks are a must for hard treadmill runs. They lessen the torture, especially when they say ROAR on them.

And now let's roar our way to some learnings because this post is over now:

• I mean seriously-how fun are those socks?
• Superfun, that's how much fun.
• Loud shorts and pants are also motivational in getting your run done, but everyone knows that already.
• I need to write a running book called "Overcoming the NOPE: How to trick your brain into running every single day."

Upcoming workouts:  Many more treadmill miles because the real polar vortex is coming in the next two days...

Doesn't everyone have an "I was so hungry I was about to eat my own fingers" snack?

If you haven't been outside lately in the eastern half of the country, you may not know that it's cold.  Like, super cold.

I sucked it up and went outside and did the same amount of miles as degrees on the thermometer - three.  I was not excited about having to wear my balaclava.

Suspicious runner is suspicious of cold weather.

I'd like to say at this point that I went outside and the run was more awesome than I thought it was.  But I won't because that's not true.  It was cold, I found it hard to breathe at a 10 min/mile pace with all that cold air, and my right big tow didn't warm up until after I got into the shower afterwards - and it freaking hurt while it was warming up.

I look OK, but cold.  So cold.

The silver lining of this run is that I will be better prepared to run in this cold winter suck in the future.  I did manage to try out these super duper thin base-layer leggings I got at Target (C-9 brand) a few years ago; wore these under my fleece-lined tights and managed to stay pretty warm.  I now officially approve of them for running.  (They are also good to wear under bike shorts on those chilly spring mornings when you're going for a ride and you don't own a pair of cycling tights and are too cheap to buy any.)

Super thin and super purple.  So much super
the cat can't even look at it.

So that sums up my workout for the day; what about the eating?  Below are the highlights:

• Breakfast: scrumptious oatmeal doctored with PB, bananas, and cinnamon with coffee.  Yummo.
• Snack: Nutrisystem muffin and a handful of nuts.
• Lunch: BUH VEGGIES and a hot dog. And a small piece of peppermint bark because hubbs told me he had some so of course I had to eat some because I knew it was in the house.
• Snack: Nutrisystem muffin (apparently the "high fiber" label on those suckers doesn't scare me) and more nuts.
• Post-run snack: Even more nuts...and an apple.
• I was so hungry I was about to eat my own fingers snack: A small bowl of the hubbs's potato chips because I found the bag when I was looking for the peppermint bark in the spot where hubbs hides his crappy food from me
• Dinner: Veggie tots, shredded chicken sandwich, homemade sugar-free PB pie.  Yummo.

A few stumbles, but not too bad overall.  I have managed to lose some weight since I started this mess; around a pound.  One thing I've learned about weight loss is that it took a long time to gain--and it's going to take time to lose.

The other thing I've learned recently is that the hubbs needs to find a new hiding place for all of his junk food.

And now even more bonus learnings:

• I better get used to running in the cold.  Because winter.
• I'm going to attempt a 13 mile run in 9 degree weather on Saturday.  Wish me and my right big toe luck.
• Doesn't everyone have an "I was so hungry I was about to eat my own fingers" snack?  Everyone should if they don't already.
• Anything purple is automatically super--just so you know that for future reference.

Tomorrow's workout:  A total body workout of some kind...boot camp sounds like a good idea.

Day 5, Week 14: My top ten ways to screw up your marathon. You're welcome.

This morning was the very last run on my training plan: a 3 mile marathon pace (9:20) run.  So of course I woke up and it was eighteen degrees and snowing and windy and I had to bust out a balaclava and I was all AWESOME BRING ON THE SNOW:

Yay winter!  Not really!

Just kidding.  Here's how I really felt:

I wasn't going to take large dog with me because of the cold and snow and all, but as I went to head out the door without him he gave me the biggest, saddest WOOOOO I've ever heard, so of course I had no choice but to hook him up and take him for a spin in the cold snow dark.

We only did three miles, but all his slobber was frozen to the front of him when we got back.  I think he'd say that a little frozen slobber was worth the trek out into the cold to drag me around and try to pull me into ditches.  This morning I got a bonus--he tried to make me slide on the fresh snow and fall down when we took corners.  Good times.  What I will do to ensure the safety of my drywall and baseboards.

Anyway, since my marathon is a mere two days away, I have been planning out what's going to happen--or not happen--over the next few days to ensure that my 4:05 goal time becomes a reality.  I feel good about my training, but so much other stuff can derail the potential fame and glory of hitting your goal time.  In fact, let me tell you some things you can tell yourself in order to be well-trained for your marathon yet still screw it up (and I know these things because I have said them to myself at some point):

1) "I won't eat breakfast; I'll just have some gels."
2) "I don't need hill training even though the first 17 miles of the course is a net uphill."
3) "I know it's hot but I won't bring any extra water with me."
4) "I know I'm running 30 seconds above pace and didn't train for this pace, but I don't think it will affect my performance at all."
5) "I don't really need to gel until at least mile 10."
6) "Taking food from random strangers on the course?  What could go wrong?"
7) "I think it's OK if I eat all these fiber-filled vegetables the night before the race."
8) "New shoes on race day?  Sounds like a great idea!"
9) "I'll try out that new breathing technique I read about in Runner's World during the race."
10) And last but not least..."This race is at altitude and I live in the Midwest?  Shouldn't be a problem."

Where are the learnings?  Oh, here they are:

• I screw up.  A lot.  S'kay, though-that's how you learn.
• Large dog is addicted to running.
• My solution to everything I hate is to shake my fist at it.  Sometimes one of my fingers is raised as well.
• Winter running.  Double buh.
• I love how in the very first pic of this post I look like a cut-out figure pasted on top of a background of my little shack of a house.

Tomorrow's workout: Walking around the race expo in Dallas where it will be NOT WINTER.

Day 2, Week 10: Too long of a post for such a short run.

I'd like to let everyone know that it is winter now no matter what the calendar says.  This is because I had to run in this outfit this morning for my 3 miler. 

Bright orange gloves: not pictured.

Now, I know what you're thinking-I have a very creative and playful running fashion sense.  Well, I'll have you know that my running outfits are supervised closely by my closet supervisor, pictured below.

He sits in that chair any damn way he wants every morning and diligently supervises me putting together my running/weight lifting outfits.  He advises using a "pull the first thing out of the dresser you find that's warm enough" strategy, and I think this is good advice for the "playful and creative" look I'm going for.  The hubbs, however, feels as if my running fashion vibe is more of a "my God woman do you need your eyes checked we have insurance use it" feel.

Large dog could have cared less what I was wearing.  He got to go for three miles of cartoon-springy goodness going off in his head and big-tongue lolling everywhere.  Here he is trying to reign that tongue back in afterwards.

Almost got that tongue under control.  Almost.

He also didn't care how fast we were going, and I constantly had to slow him down because my tight and screaming calves were having none of my usual running too fast nonsense.

Small dog just shot me evil looks afterwards, mainly because he doesn't get to go running.  He wants to go, yet he won't leave the front yard and every time we get close to the road he scampers back to the front door all scared and stuff.  So no running for him.

You will pay.  Yes you will.

Learnings in 3...2...1:

• Small dog needs some exercise.  He's getting all chubsters.
• If you're running in the dark, your running outfit doesn't matter.  How much reflective gear you have on does, and it doesn't have to match.
• Another way to think of my running fashion style is "she's wearing whatever she found that was cheap at TJ Maxx or on sale at Dick's Sporting Goods."
• Those screaming calves are going to be screeching during speed work tomorrow.

Tomorrow's workout: MILE FREAKING REPEATS.  Argh.

Irish people: Today was your day.

Today was my day. I am Irish.

I don't drink so the way I celebrate is by running a race.  I think my ancestors would tar and feather me for that if they knew.  But they're dead, and, if they were here, they'd probably be dead drunk, too (har!).

Because my husband wimped out and refused to come (it was 24 degrees outside and windy when we started the race), I had no official race photographer.  Below are the best I could do on my own:

Yes, I am in the bathroom.  That's where the mirrors are.  And some awesome smells.

Pro Compression Shamrock Socks completed my outfit.

I forgot to wear my tie.  I was a little upset, especially since it cost me a whole dollar at Target.

The race was cold and windy.  No matter what direction we ran, the wind was in our faces.  I planned on taking this race a little easy what with my foot still not at 100%, so my goal for the race was to practice my negative splits.  I wanted to end up at around 8 minutes per mile, so my first split was at about 8:28.  I was pacing a dude for the first 1.5 miles that was doing that pace who kept clearing his throat every 3 nanoseconds, so I started to pull away just to save what was left of my sanity.  After that, I busted out an 8:11 2nd mile, and, thanks to the fact that 0.6 miles of the 3rd mile is all downhill to the finish, I managed a 7:51 as I crossed the finish line.

Because this was not my best performance (a 25:32; last year I pulled off a 24:17) and there were about 600 people at this race, I didn't expect to place.  I just went inside the building to get warm, scope out the post-race food (bread, cole slaw and donuts.....?), and find a place to stretch and pee (not in the same spot).  I stuck around as the raffle began, but I really wanted to leave because I had 19 more miles to do--technically, I was supposed to do a 22 mile run according to my training schedule.  And leave I almost did, until they hung up the results and I saw that I had taken 1st place in my age group.  Not too shabby.

After collecting my medal, I scrambled home, threw on my hydration backpack, and took off for my 19-mile run.  My foot whined off and on for the entire run, and it was the worst in mile 11.  But, for a 19 mile run, I had some pretty good splits (for me, anyway):

The main event that happened during this run was: people.  There were people out EVERYWHERE.  People walking their dogs unleashed, people trying to find their lost doberman, people trying to find the nearest exit to I-90...it was a pretty steady parade of people in the middle of my run.   Some of these people decided to be all friendly and try and talk to me.  However, during a run, I'm not really interested in talking or stopping--I am interested in running.  It's like how I drive my husband complete and total batshit by never answering my phone on a run.  This is because the phone is there for me to call SOMEONE ELSE, not to answer it and have a chit-chat while trying to make it through mile 15.  I just want to run, dammit, and run uninterrupted.

But some of these people I met on the run were driving cars and stopping to talk to me.  Now, I don't know about you, but when I am a female and running alone (which is often), I don't like it when people stop their cars, get out of their cars, and then try and walk up to me.  I tend to back away and get out my pepper spray, which causes them to look very concerned.  All I know is that if they grab my backpack, they can probably get me to their car before my uncoordinated ass unbuckles the clasps on the front of my body, so I don't want these car-driving-getting-out-of-cars people anywhere near me.  At least the last 5 miles of the run were people-free; it left me some time to concentrate on my foot and obsess over whether I was getting a stress fracture or had a synovial cyst of some kind along the length of my extensor tendon.

Speaking of the foot, it's a little sore now; I iced it immediately afterwards and took some ibuprofen.  And then I went to Red Robin and had a pretty damn good burger at my husband's nephew's birthday party.  Hey, I know how to eat for recovery baby, and recover is what I intend to do tomorrow with my cross-training day.  I'll let you know what I choose to do to screw up my foot further for cross-training in tomorrow's post.

16 mile long run: sulking, pit bulls, and proving to myself that I can run my marathon pace.

I was all bummed out earlier, thinking that I wasn't going to make my goal pace for my first marathon.  As I started my 16 mile long run (in almost perfect weather, by the way--I ran the last 6 miles without any gloves on, which made me perversely happy), I was trapped in a funk that made my first few miles junk.  Plodding along, I thought I was never ever going to run at race pace.  Ever.  Even the sunny day and perfect weather couldn't cheer me up.  Run run run, sulk sulk sulk.

And then the pit bull chased me.

Normally this dog is behind a fence, but the front gate was open and, as soon as it saw me, it came after me with a vengeance.  I'm serious: it was out to get me, and it was gaining ground on me so fast I was deciding which leg I was going to let it bite when it got to me.  (I pulled my best pace of the run while running away screaming from the thing--a 5:30 min/mile.)  Thankfully, the owners were outside and had good control of the dog; as soon as they spoke, the dog stopped. After I caught my breath, they apologized and promised it would be secure on my return trip past their house.  And it was.  I like it when people do what they say they're going to do.

I kept on trucking down the road, not really sulking anymore, but getting pissed off with myself.  Why did I think I couldn't do it?  Why did I think I couldn't ever truly do a pace run?  Do I release some sort of dog-chasing pheromone?

So, I decided that after the warm-up the pit bull provided me, I was going to pick up the pace and see what I could do.  You can see exactly what I did below:

It's obvious that in the first few miles I was all drowning in my "I'll never run my target marathon pace" sorrows.  And then you can see, right after mile 5, I started to speed up.  By mile 8, I was trucking.  My brain said to slow down--and I did--for the next two miles.  But after that I really wanted to see if I could do it--run at my projected race pace until the end of the run.

And I did.  Those splits from mile 8 onwards may not mean much to you, but they mean the world to me.  It's just the confidence booster I needed to get out of my downward mental spiral.

Now I know I can do it.  So that's what I'm going to do from here on out.

Because I know you want to hear more about the other highlights of my run, I have created a visually appealing breakdown of the major events of the run for your eyeballs.  Please direct said eyeballs to the graph below:

As you can see, peeing was a major event during this run.  Why is it that I can pee 3 bajillion times before I head out, but within the first 3 miles my bladder starts giving me crap (well, urine)?  At least today I had some semblance of privacy out on my country roads.  And I have no idea why my pace was all ziggity-zaggity there after mile 14; all I remember at that point was just trying to keep moving to maintain pace until I got home.

So now I've proved to myself that I can run at my goal pace in a long run.  Now to work on making my cross-training more aerobic without giving up my weight-lifting time.  More on that tomorrow.

All bummed out.

It's been an interesting working out week.

I had a good 6 x 800 m treadmill session on Tuesday, a nice slow run on Wednesday, and finally got to run a tempo at my 10K pace outside Friday morning.

But it seems like something is amiss.

I'm midway through my marathon training program, and I am tired.  Not just my legs, but my whole body, mind, and soul is tired.  I am having a hard time getting my butt up and moving for a run these days; I'm hoping its just because now I am pulling 40+ miles a week, a mileage my body has never experienced before with this much regularity.

And I'm not seeing a lot of gains in speed or endurance.

Part of me is a little scared that I haven't been pushing the intensity of my workouts in order to achieve my goal race pace.  You see I went and did that whole "reading" thing again, and bought the book Run Less, Run Faster, which proclaims that by running 3 solid workouts a week--and pushing their intesnity--you can PR and run miracle miles and have a fabulous life.  Well, maybe not that last part, but the PRs are sprinkled throughout the book.

Looking at my training plan, I realize it's just a modified version of the plan presented in that book.  But I've been slacking on the pace of my tempo runs when I do them on the treadmill.  And I don't think I've been practicing enough at pace during my long runs or doing cross-training that is aerobic enough (I love my weights, dammit).

I guess I'm torn as to what to do--go with what my body feels I should do, or push beyond that and go for pace.  Because you only get faster by running faster.  Like all things, I suppose, it's a matter of meeting myself somewhere in the middle of all my fear and tiredness.

That's what I have to keep telling myself as I prepare for a 16 mile long run today that is supposed to be at race pace.  It was supposed to be yesterday, but my intestines and a lack of a place to use nature's facilities without being spotted changed my plans.  I managed 5 miles yesterday, with the last 400m speedwalking back to my house so as to not embarrass myself on the road.  There's something inherently cruel about the fact that when you REALLY have to go when you're out on a run, running just makes that "about to mess my pants" feeling worsen--but walking in single-digit windchills isn't all that fun, in case you haven't experienced that.

Looks like I'll have a lot to think about when I'm on this run today.  I'll let you know if I work anything out, or push myself too far and end up injuring myself.  But I will leave you with this picture of me after I took off my balaclava after Friday's tempo run just to lighten the mood:

Anatomy of a Winter Run

Since I went for a long run of 20 miles yesterday, I thought it might be beneficial to share my winter running "getting ready" protocol with all of you, because none of you asked and I have pictures.  So, without any futher ado, here are...

MY PREPARATIONS FOR A WINTER RUN:

1) Freak myself out about how cold it is going to be outside.
2) Wonder if I should do half of the long run outside and the other half on the treadmill.
3) Decide I am going to run tomorrow, not today.
4) Decide I am going to run today and not totally wimp out.
5) Fart around on the internet for an hour mapping several possible routes based on wind speed and direction.
6) Look outside and think about how cold it is.
7) Finally decide to get dressed.
8) Put on first layer of clothes:

Those are my FAVE purple calf sleeves.

9) Put on second layer of clothes:

10) Put on third layer of clothes:

11) Realize I forgot to put on my hydration backpack and go talk to the hubbs while I'm putting it between my second and third layers, telling him where I'm going.  Watch helplessly as he takes a picture of me adjusting my hose:

12) Take away the hubbs' privilege of sleeping with his phone by the bed.

13) Waffle for about an hour as to what route I want to run.  I usually end up basing my decision on the "least amount of loose dogs" rule.

14) Load up with hand warmers, pepper spray, mittens, 6 gels, my phone, and lip balm.  Bray like a pack mule before putting in headphones.

15) Leave for run.

Overall, it was a pretty good run yesterday.  However, in case you didn't already know, don't ever do a full body weight workout that includes squats and lunges with a loaded barbell the day before a long run.  Why? Because when you do your 20 mile long run the next day your legs will be tired by mile 5 and you'll have to slow down in order to make it to mile 20.

At least the weather was freaking gorgeous for those 20 miles.  I mean, you couldn't ask for better weather on a February day in Illinois:  it was in the upper 20s, no wind, and sunny without a cloud in the sky.  Nothing but blue skies did I see.

And, when I got home, I saw nothing but sunburn in the mirror from the nose downward.  Apparently I forgot that the sun will still give you sunburn in the winter when you're traipsing about outside for almost 4 hours with no sunscreen.  Because I was wearing sunglasses and my balaclava up over my chin, I have red marks that look like a painted on clown face.  It made work today that much more interesting, ("Hey, what happened?  Are you sunburned or did you tie one on before you came to work today?  Is that really "water" in your water bottle?")

Anyhoo.

Tomorrow's workout is 8 x 800m, and it looks like Mother Nature is going back to her cranky self again tomorrow: high winds and snow starting in the morning.  Treadmill Tuesday, here I come.

Using a hydration backpack is better than eating snow.

Yesterday I woke up at 6 AM, fully intending to eat breakfast and then scoot on out the door on my 18-mile long run.  Instead, I spent the next few hours waffling with myself, debating about whether to do the run that day or wait until the next day (today).  I have a shin splint in the making on my right leg, and my left hip has been wobbly during the last week, so I was thinking that they may need a day.  Also, here in northern Illinois-land, we have been plunged into a deep freeze with temperatures in the teens most of the day; I hemmed and hawed about waiting until the next day to do the run because it was supposed to be warmer that day.

I finally convinced myself to suck it up and do the run yesterday, trying out a new out-and-back route in order to provide the motivation to take the time to get all of my winter running gear on and get out the door. (I like running in new places, because there are sights to see that I never even knew existed right in my own backyard--for example, a zoo and a firearms shop.)  But I put on a piece of gear that I hadn't worn before: my hydration backpack.

Backback plus bonus dog.

You see, I'm really really tired of carrying water around in my hand or on a belt, especially in this cold weather.  There's that whole "water freezes below 32 degrees" thing to contend with, so you actually end up carrying around a bottle of ice after an hour, or I have to deal with a hydration belt that eventually rides its way upwards during a run, becoming a bra by the end.  The thing is, though, when you're running for 3 or 4 hours, you get thirsty--really thirsty.  So, instead of eating snow for the last 6 miles and spitting out the road sand that comes with it as I have done before, the  logical solution for me was to shell out some serious cash for the backpack you see above.

Inside the backpack is a bladder that hold about 1.5 liters of water.  Connected to that is a tube that comes outside and down the right arm of the backpack, which ends in a bite nozzle that you bite down on (duh) to get the water to come out.  Since I wear about three layers in the cold weather, I put the backpack in-between my 2nd and third layer so as to prevent it from freezing; I also threaded the tube with the bite nozzle through the right arm of my jacket (between my 2nd and 3rd layer) so that wouldn't freeze either.

It worked like a charm.  Here's what I liked:

• 1.5 liters was more than enough water for a 3+ hour run
• The bite nozzle worked well; I felt like I could get enough water, especially after sucking down a gel.
• The straps that come around the front didn't bother me at all. (Although they did make wear marks on one of my favorite running shirts I was wearing for my 2nd layer.  Bummer.)
• I looked like a total hunchback running down the road with it underneath my jacket, drawing confused looks from passing motorists
• It didn't bounce at all--I didn't even notice it after the first mile.
• It has lots of pockets to carry your stuff.  While that didn't help me yesterday (it being underneath a jacket) these will definitely come in handy when it gets warmer.

I only had two main issues with it:

• The constant sloshy-sloshy sound of the water in the bladder was my constant companion.  However, I run with music, so I only heard it between songs.  (I found out later if I drained the air out of the top of the bladder before running I wouldn't hear it sloshing.)
• I was stupid enough to leave the bite nozzle sticking out of the top of my sleeve during the first two miles of the run.  Having tried out the bite nozzle in my house before I left, there was water sitting in the tip of the nozzle, which promptly froze as it hung outside of my jacket for those two miles.  Thankfully, I just had to press on it to break it up, and it was all good.

Overall, it was a good run yesterday, even if the first 9 miles were right into the cold and windy suck that is Illinois in February and I had to shout "NO-GO HOME!" to way too many dogs.

This was a pace run, meaning I had to negative-split the run so I was ending at my race pace.  I think I did a pretty good job, considering that I had decided I would run each mile my body wanted to run it and not get so focused on the numbers.  Compared to my last 18-mile run, I did come in a bit faster with my average pace, although not much--I started slower this time than last time, but last time I never got into the 10:00 paces whatsoever. 

However, I am going to need to watch it during my marathon--I tend to start speeding up around mile 7 or 8, I've noticed, and then I have to throttle back in later miles in order to make it to the end.  If that happens during the full 26.2, I think I may be in trouble; I am currently planning on holding back a little until the 13th mile, and then assessing the situation from there.  I just don't want to have to do a lot of the pathetic self-bargaining that I had to do yesterday just to make it through the 17th mile.  (I promised myself a new house.)

Anyway, it's cross-training for the next two days for me, which will give my shins a needed break.  Let the Cathextravaganza continue.  

Outside, I Miss Running In You.

Got up today fully expecting to do my ladder workout on the treadmill, especially since the winds were so strong they were rattling all of the old windows in my house.  It is treadmill Tuesday, after all, people!  Let's get that treadmill a-rollin'!  All aboard the Treadmill Tuesday Train!

I did get on the train, but had to get off at a very early stop, unfortunately.  After about 0.75 miles I realized I was not going to have time to run a 400, 800, 1200, 1600, and then work my way back down that ladder and be able to get to work on time.  Damn myself for getting up too late.

I'm a bit of a perfectionist about my speed work days; I just like to do an entire speed work workout rather than cut it short. And this is a workout I've never actually done before.  It was a challenge to be conquered, and I wanted to conquer the entire thing at once.  So I decided to come home after work and run it on the treadmill when I would have the luxury of time.

And then I checked the weather forecast for this afternoon just as I was about to leave my place of employment.  I about jumped out of my pants (don't worry; no one was around to see it) when I saw that the temperature would be hovering deliciously near the 30s and there would be basically no wind.

"I CAN RUN OUTSIDE!!" I exclaimed in my classroom to absolutely no one, much like a teacher who desperately needs a break.  Or years of therapy.

And run outside I did.  This is what the sun was doing when I pulled into my driveway:

I knew I'd have to strap on the headlamp and get all gussied up in my reflective gear since the sun was sinking fast, but I didn't care.  I knew I would only have to wear two-ONLY TWO-layers of clothing.  I was all aglow with running excitement.

Still glowing, I trucked outside and ran that ladder.  It only took an hour, and I managed to piss off every damn dog along the way, leaving a wave barking in my wake that sounded much like off-kilter barking metronomes as I ran away from them as quickly as I could.  I don't think they were barking at me; I think they were barking at the headlamp.  ("Hey--what is that glowing thing bobbing up and down out there?  And where is that heavy breathing coming from?  We should bark like crazy at it.")

But enduring the barking and having my pepper spray at the ready several times was worth it.  The weather was perfect.  I was running at speeds that I would break down in a mental pile of goo about if I were doing them on the treadmill.  In the dark you can only see the moving circle of your headlamp (and the errant zombie lying in the cornfield.  I'm sure one of those shadows in the cornfield is a zombie), and you don't see the hills or the scenery or anything else--you can just focus on the run.

I conquered the workout.  I just hope the weather holds for Thursday so I can conquer that 8.5 mile tempo run on the training schedule this week (unlike last week).

I'm ready for it not to be winter anymore.

Seriously, I'm really ready, especially after a long run.  Yesterday was a long run day, and it was what my training schedule calls a "pace" run.  It is described in my training plan thusly:

"Start 45 seconds slower than goal race pace and gradually speed up to end at goal pace."

That didn't exactly happen on my run.  These plans are written pretty generally, and usually my goal on the long run is just to survive all the way until the end.  Also, they don't take into account things like bitterly cold weather (which wasn't the case yesterday, thankfully) and high winds (15 mph, which was the case yesterday) as I was running straight into them.  Plus, I was tired from doing my tempo run the day before instead of Thursday.

So I started slower than the plan said I should, but I don't really care about that--especially since the first 7 miles were run straight into those damn winds.  What I do care about is that I ended at goal pace, which is 10:00.  The thought of maintaining that pace for 26.2 miles is a little daunting right now, but I have to keep reminding my shortsighted and idiotic self that I just ended my 5th week of training, with 11 more weeks to go.

Without any further ado, here are the lessons learned from this run:

• Where you put your phone matters.  This was a run where I almost threw my phone out into the ditch rather than have to put up with it for one more minute.  On the way out to the south, you see, I had tucked it into a front pocket of my jacket.  With the wind coming right at me, I didn't feel it very much unless my right hand happened to have the Gatorade bottle at that point (see below for more on the Gatorade) and smacked into it on the way down because I was too tired to maintain proper form.  However, after I turned around at the 7 mile point, it was slamming into the front of my body--specifically, it kept slamming into my bladder body part.  Because I was wearing three layers, I stopped and put it in a back pocket of my second layer, where it then slammed into my ass over and over again.  After contemplating calling my husband to come and get the damn thing (he's the one who makes me carry it, dammit), I finally remembered that one of the pairs of tights I was wearing had a butt pocket.  Ahhh, phone bliss was achieved after I transferred it there (and forcing it into the pocket, making it fit).  
• Gatorade just makes me thirsty.  Instead of gels, I decided to carry a bottle of Gatorade with me this time (since I have read that gels and sports drinks don't mix; I really don't want to perform a running experiment to see if that's true).  I also had a bottle of water in my dorky Batman-esque utility belt wrapped around my waist, which I was glad I had by the end of the run.  I was glad I did, because that Gatorade only made me thirstier and thirstier--the only reason I kept drinking it was because of the sugars and electrolytes I knew I was losing just by running.  In the last mile I grabbed the water bottle and guzzled it down in one long thirst-quenching drink.  Next time I will be carrying a mix of the stuff with water.
• Mile-long downhills are wonderful.  Route 72 is a main road near me, and I have realized that it is sitting in the lowest point of a valley.  So, when I ran down to it (literally), I was running some pretty steep uphills when I traveled further south past 72.  Those hills were a challenge, but one that I knew was necessary.  The best part, however, was turning around and having a mile-long downhill during mile 9.  My legs felt great, and it gave me much-needed training on running downhills.  The only thing that sucked was realizing that I would have to run a gradual uphill to the north of 72 back to my house.  I enjoyed that downhill while it lasted.
• Yes, I can do more than I think I can.  My quads were pretty damn tired by mile 10.  I didn't want to run uphill.  I didn't want to run faster.  But that's why I'm glad I don't have my watch programmed to show me my instantaneous pace during long runs--it just lets me focus on the run, and fall into a good pace without getting all mentally strung out by the numbers.
• My nose is capable of snot production of epic proportions.  Snot rockets were plentiful and frequent, with the snot flowing freely and copiously.  And I'm talking with hagfish-like proportions:

That's slime he's holding.  Made by the hagfish in the tank.  YUM.

Needless to say, chapstick is now a "must have" item on my long runs because my nose gets raw wiping away all my snot-rocketing adventures.

• My Achilles issues and shin splint "hot spot" seem to have quieted themselves.  I think this is nuts, especially since I am running more miles per week than I ever have been.  I'm thinking I finally found the right combination of shoes, stretching, and recovery days to make them shut-up.  While I have no scientific evidence to back this up, I'm thinking that the long runs in my Mizuno Wave Rider 16s are helping a lot--they are the nicest-feeling shoes I have ever had the privilege in which to run.  Also, I wear calf sleeves by Pro Compression or SLS3 on every run now.  
• Port-a-johns on a long run are bliss.  I know you think I'm overreacting, but it was SO NICE to be able to use the facilities somewhere where it was actually legal to do so.  And to be able to do it out of the wind, with real toilet paper, taking off my gloves without fear of frostbite and being able to readjust all layers properly before taking off again.  It's the small things, really.

A bright spot on a long cold run.

Compared to my 20-miler last weekend, this run was pretty short (even though it had its share of annoyances to make it seem a little too long).  Now for two days of cross-training, and then it's back to running three days in a row next week.  My goals for next week's training are:

1) Don't be a total wimp on the treadmill

2) Complete a treadmill tempo run actually at lactate threshold

3) Stop myself from letting loose snot rockets while running on my treadmill

4) Get ready for next weekend's 18-mile long run--which is a "pace" run.

Hagfish photo credit: dirtsailor2003 via photopin cc

Coaxing my inner child out of her fetal position for a treadmill tempo run.

If you live in the Midwest or the Northeast right now, your outside looks a lot like this:

Which is why I didn't do my 8.5 mile tempo run like I was scheduled to do on Thursday.  The picture above was taken right as it started to snow like a *BLEEPNAUGHTYWORD* and I was on my way home from work.  This occurred after it poured down rain for most of the morning, which is why I didn't do the run in the AM like I normally would have done.

Weather.  Sometimes it sucks.

When I got home, it was snowing softly, and there was no wind to speak of.  It was warm.  So, I did what any other reasonable runner would have done: Busted out my new set of Yak Trax Pro and tried to get that tempo run done any way I could.

Only I underestimated how wet, sloppy, and calf-fatiguing running in that kind of snow could be.  I found myself picking my way over patches of ice, my Yak Trax digging into the wet heavy snow such that it was like running in the heaviest, wettest sand you could imagine.  I couldn't get up to the speed I would need to really make the run effective.  Well,  I could get up to speed, but it would most likely be when I was sliding on my ass after I fell on the ice rather than by running down the road.

If it had been a long run day or an easy run day, I would have kept going, because the snow was so pretty and the evening so quiet and warm.  But it wasn't.  It was tempo run day, dammit, and Mother Nature had once again outwitted me.  That *BLEEPANOTHERNAUGHTYWORD*

So I called it quits and decided to treadmill it this morning, even though it meant doing 6 miles at tempo pace.  Six miles.  Siiiixxxxxxx looooonnnggg miles.  That number freaked me out (even after running 20 miles Saturday!  I am nuts.)  You, see I hate doing long tempo runs on the treadmill more than I hate root canals, meetings with people who lie to me on a regular basis, and going shopping at Walmart on a Saturday afternoon.  In fact, "hate" isn't the word I should use; it's "loathe."  I don't know what it is, but I mentally shrivel at the thought of doing a faster run that's longer than 3 miles on the thing.  I break down, thinking I can't do it. My inner child goes all fetal and rocking, inconsolable.

But this morning I reminded myself that if I think I can't, I can't.  But I could.  I was going to try, but I would have to make some modifications in order to convince my inner whiner that I could do it.  So I did for myself what I would do for any of my students caught in this mental trap--I started small.  Specifically, I ramped down the speed that I woulds run at because I needed a speed that I could be successful at during this first try at an 8 mile tempo on the treadmill.  I just needed to show myself that I could run that long at a faster pace on the treadmill, and I'll jack up the speed later if Mother Nature decides to be a total jerkface again.

I'd say I did a pretty good job this morning, even if I did have to stop after 5 miles because I needed to get my ass to work on time:

I threw in the elevation just for fun.  How did I lose elevation on the treadmill?  My Garmin footpod is possessed.

Not my fastest pace ever, but I did feel challenged.  I broke it up into smaller bits ("Just make it to mile three make it to mile three MAKE IT TO MILE 3 YOU *BLEEPOHANOTHERNAUGHTYWORD*!") which made it much more manageable.  The TV helped, too; "My Name is Earl" is also surprisingly good treadmill TV, along with a documentary about the USS Indianapolis tragedy.

The lesson from today's run?  Sometimes runs aren't about physical training--they're about proving to yourself you can do something, even if that something is not mentally crumbling while running slower than normal on a machine others handle just fine. Now that I know I *can* do a longer tempo run on the 'mill, next time I'll ramp up the speed and coax my inner child out of her fetal position for the entire run.

Now I can do anything.

Twenty miles.  20.  A two and a zero right next to each other.

This was my first 20 mile run, running out in the country that day after it snowed 2 inches the night before.  I was running where the plows don't go; where they throw down sand out of pity instead of wasting road salt on us country bumpkins.  I was suffering by the end, and not just from fatigue.  It was cold, windy, and snowing for the first two hours.  Thankfully, that cleared up by the second half of the run, and this was the view from mile 15 (the mile in which I really really really wanted to call someone to come get me):

But my first thought when I finally reached my front door was this:

"If I just did that, I can do anything."

Although I did have a hard time getting up and down my stairs afterwards.  So I guess I could do almost anything.

Here are the lessons learned from my first 20-miler ever in the universe:

• My hydration strategy still needs some work.  Having learned from my last long run, I brought along a 20-oz plastic water bottle and carried it along for about 5 miles.  I then dropped it at an intersection way out in the country, expecting to grab it on my way back when I was dying of thirst.  That plan would have worked if it hadn't been for those damn snow plows--they finally decided to come out at about noon, plowing down my water bottle into the ditch of oblivion.  Or at least somewhere where I couldn't find it, because that water bottle was MIA on my way back.  This sucked, because I was dying of thirst by that time.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was forced to eat snow on the way back to quench my thirst.  The trick is, I found, going far enough into the ditch to avoid getting any of that pity sand stuck in-between your teeth.  
• Did you know that water freezes when it is below 32 degrees F outside?  You did?  Well, apparently this science teacher forgot that fact because the extra water bottle I had on my belt (and the water bottle that disappeared due to plowing) started freezing after the third mile.  This resulted in much swearing, gnashing of teeth, and stopping to bang the lid of the water bottle on the ground just to break the ice around it that was keeping it shut, preventing those luscious water molecules from getting to my parched lips.  This (among other things) resulted in my being pretty damn cranky by the middle of the run, so cranky I was yelling at passing motorists for daring to drive on the road and making me run on the shoulder.  Because one day one of these motorists might hear me and stop and beat my ass, I went out and bought this hydration pack last night, thinking that if I put this underneath one of the four layers I was wearing, the water in it wouldn't freeze:

I bought the pack, not the dog.  Well, I bought the dog, but not last night.

• While they don't freeze, exactly, gels are much harder to eat when you are running in the cold.  Their viscosity increases severely, resulting in me trying to breathe while running and performing a weird sucking motion in order to get the damn gel out of the package.  It was almost like trying to suck a  foot out of a wet sock (I have never tried this, and neither should you. Weirdos).  I did bring something solid to eat that pretty much saved my life in mile 12.  By that point I was so hungry, and this Honey Stinger Strawberry Waffle saved the day, and kept hunger at bay until the 16th mile or so.  
• My right hand must have some lingering vascularization issues from when I used to smoke 2 packs a day, because the fingers on that hand kept getting really *bleep*ing cold.  I had to take them out of the fingers of the glove and ball them into a fist in the sleeve of the glove, which means that the top of the mitten was flopping around while I ran, getting really freaking cold.  I don't know why I wait so long to break out the handwarmers, but I finally did in the 11th mile, sticking one in this little pocket my Hotfingers gloves have on the top of the mitten.  Let me tell you, this worked like a charm--my fingers were all toasty warm after that.  
• My students live along the roads on which I run.  I stopped and had a nice conversation with one of them who was taking out his dog for about 5 minutes until he finally realized who the hell I was (I don't usually go to school dressed in a balaclava, neon-yellow hat, and white running tights.  But maybe one day I should).
• Running through 2 inches of snow is akin to running through sand--it sucks.  I have also learned I hate the feeling of snow getting stuck to the bottom of my shoes; it feels like I'm wearing huge platform heels after a while.
• When you pull your balaclava up over your nose, the condensation from your breath forms little icicles on your eyelashes.  
• Speaking of balaclavas, I learned this law of the running universe:  30 seconds after pulling your balaclava up over your nose, you will have to let loose a few snot rockets and pull it back down.  
• You get all sorts of crazy looks when you're running while it's snowing.  Passing motorists all had incredulous/shocked looks on their faces when they saw this crazy runner slogging away through horizontal snow.  Well, it was either because of the snow, or they were just shocked at my usual bad running fashion.
• I finally figured out the magic number of layers to put over my legs so my thighs don't freeze.  That number is four.  Which, by the way, makes for quite the adventure when you stop to use nature's facilities and try to pull all of them back up and put them back in their proper positions.
• This run wasn't just physical training--it was mental training. I really wanted to give up right after hitting mile 15.  I was cold.  I was tired of the wind.  I was tired, period.  I would have cried, but I didn't want any more icicles on my eyelashes.  But then I started repeating a little mantra over and over in my head: "You got this.  You can do this.  You got this.  Just a little farther.  Keep moving or you'll freeze to death, you moron."  (My inner monologue is often abusive.)  I kept on going.  I started having to tell myself how much time I had left to keep on keeping on ("1 mile left!  That's, like, only 11 minutes!  You can do it!  Don't stop or you'll freeze to death, moron!")  But I guess that's the point of these runs--to find the tricks that keep you going mentally as well as physically, keeping the rational part of your brain under wraps so it doesn't realize the crazy thing you're doing.

Even though this run was dripping with annoyances, I am still excited I finally did a run of this distance.  Even though it wasn't fast, I still have 3 more 20 milers on the training schedule.  I may suck now, but I am confident I will suck less and less on those runs.  Except if my gels keep freezing.

18 Miles of Hunters, Animal Poop, & More Bad Running Fashion

Yesterday I topped off my third week of marathon training with an 18-mile run, my first-ever run at that distance:

The weather couldn't have been better for a winter run--temps were in the 20s, there was no wind (for once!), and the sun was out the entire time.  I got to run to places I've never been before around my house, which included finding out that there is a hunting club about 9 miles out.  Nothing like coming down the road and seeing rows of men in orange with guns coming toward you, peering into the cattails ahead of them with murderous intensity.  My inner mantra during the 8th and 9th miles was, "please don't shoot me please don't shoot me run run run."    Now you know why that 9th mile split time is juuuuust a tad bit faster than the rest.

I'm still working on my eating strategy for this type of mileage.  I want to experiment with eating something solid, but for now I usually just eat gels (PowerBar ones being my favorite) and wash those down with some water every 30 minutes or so.  I hate carrying a bottle of water in my hands, so on this run I wore my water-bottle belt.  It made me look like a total running dork but it was worth it just to not have to carry that bottle around:

Boy do I know how to put together a running outfit as if I was color blind.

Problem was, that little bottle just wasn't enough water.  I was thirsty by the end of the run--really thirsty.  In the last 2 miles, I seriously considered eating snow just to quench my thirst, but opted against it after realizing how much anonymous animal poop was located along the side of the road.  Note for next time: bring an extra water bottle and drop it off at about the halfway point.  It's not like anyone will take it out in the middle of the country where I run (unless the anonymous pooping animals scamper off with it).  

But it was also one of those runs where little itty-bitty things start irritating the crap out of you (literally!), and you have to deal with that stuff along with the fact that you are tired by mile 14 or so and are also trying to mentally urge yourself forward, valiantly resisting the urge to sit down in the middle of the road and call your husband to come get you.  Things like finding a place to use nature's facilities where no one will see you and call the cops, adjusting your clothing 3 bazillion times because it's all askew after using nature's facilities, realizing your gloves aren't cutting it and having to stop and bust out some hand warmers, trying for 5 miles to get said hand warmers in the right position in your mitten-gloves so you don't lose fingers, realizing your nose is raw from all the wiping after snot-rocketing, dealing with the fact that you are thirsty enough to eat snow....all of those things just grate on my nerves after a while.  

But I have to learn to suck it up and keep on running, which is what I did.  I have to admit that, even though I was irritated by all the little things, I was excited when I hit the 17th mile.  I was happy that I had kept on going despite all the annoyances and despite the fact that my legs were so numb from fatigue that they no longer felt like they were attached to my body.  I was rather jazzed that I was now running into mileage territory heretofore unknown to me.  We runners are weirdos like that.

But I was most happy about my decision against eating the snow along the side of the road.