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.