Day 4, Week 2: Someone left the dog's naughty switch on and then I was forced to run with him.

The bike ride I planned for this dark morning didn't happen.  Why?  Because fog.  Lots of it.

Hubbs barely tolerates me riding in the dark, and he crosses the line at dark + fog + 5 AM.  So I made plans to do the ride after work (maybe) and then walked downstairs to find that someone left the large dog's naughty switch in the "on" position and naughty had overflowed all over the place during the night.  The mail had been stolen off the kitchen counter and was now sprinkled about the first floor all while my husband lay sleeping in his recliner, blissfully snoozing while surrounded by the fitting remains of the junk mail.  Some watch-husband he is.  

Anyway, since I couldn't do my ride, I decided to take the dog for a 3-mile spin to burn off some of his excess naughty.  This requires getting him dressed in his running duds, which he both loves and hates at the same time.  He loves to wear them running, but hates the fact that they have to be put on his body in any way, shape, or form.

Now, this dog is a smart dog.  But when we run he gets to looking all happy-goofy.  He looks like all that's going on in his head when he's running is the sound a cartoon spring makes...*boinGA boinGA*  See evidence below:

After we got back from a nice 3-mile run in the foggy blackness, I pondered the meaning of life, where babies come from (I know because I used to teach Biology), and the fact that I better get my butt in gear and get ready for my lovely hour-long commute through the backroads of northern Illinois.

Just kidding.  I was thinking about what snack I was going to have on the way to work.  A girl gets hungry on those backroads for an hour.  

Tomorrow's workout:  More weight-lifting goodness, with a twist!

Garmin, Charge Thyself.

Workouts:

Monday: More barbell time.
Tuesday: 5 mile easy run
Wednesday: Track ladder workout (speed work)
Thursday: 12 mile bike ride in the dark

After my 22 mile run Saturday, my legs were a bit tired.  Not just right after the run, but until...oh....Tuesday.  That track ladder workout was on tap for Tuesday, but after the first 400m interval, I knew my legs wouldn't be able to climb up and down the rest of that ladder.  My quads felt like tight little balls of...quad muscle that didn't want to contract in any running sort of way nope nope nope.

So I bagged the workout.  Having already done a mile in the warm-up, I ran 4 more miles easy, and my legs felt much better the next day; they were ready for some track ladder up-and-down climbing.  While the quads were still a bit sluggish, I managed a pretty decent workout overall:

Yes, yes, I know-I walk my recoveries.  Don't judge me.

I did this workout at around 7:15 PM, so what else is a girl in marathon training to do but get up and cross-train at 5:20 A.M.?  I went for a short but very nice bike ride in the dark while testing out my new bike headlight.  It works pretty well (a Blackburn brand), and it managed to startle a group of deer along my route.  I don't know if you know this, but when a group of deer gets all freaked out, it's a free-for-all of deer afterwards.  Deer were running every which way; I think if they could have defied gravity they also would have run straight into the sky. Or at least into a parallel universe and back.  The looks on their faces were all crazy-wild; it looked like my dog does when she is freaked out by a sound she does not recognize:

But the one thing that pissed me off about all of my workouts this week was this:  I could not remember to charge my Garmin.  It's like the neural pathway containing that memory had been obliterated each night while I slept.  Here's how every morning went this week that I needed my Garmin:

1. Get ready for run or bike ride.
2. Put on watch.
3. Turn on watch and hear the angry BEEEEEP that indicates battery is dead.
4. Swear profusely and scare the dogs.
5. Put Garmin on charger.
6. Hope that 15 minutes on the charger will give me enough juice for my workout.
7. Get enough charge to do the workout.
8. Take off Garmin after workout and forget to put it on charger.
9. Repeat steps #1-8 the next morning.

My only hope at this point is they invent wireless electricity so the watch will charge just by absorbing charged particles found in the air.  Or just put my Garmin on the charger after each and every run and not set it down on the desk facing away from me so that I forget that it is on.

Anyhoo, tomorrow is a tempo run, and then a half marathon this weekend as a pseudo-training run.  Let's hope my quads are fully rested and the Garmin is fully charged for those running events.

Another tempo run survived.

My workout today was my dreaded 6 mile tempo run.  I forced myself out the door to do it, stepping into the very foggy darkness with my trusty head lamp, butt light, and reflective vest.

My first thought was all sciencey in nature: "Crap.  It's foggy.  That means the relative humidity is near 100%." (See how I snuck in both biology (crap) and meteorology (relative humidity) in there?)

My second thought was not sciencey at all: "Crap.  This also means I'm going to get drenched."

And drenched I was.  Even my eyelashes were clogging up with precipitation.  But I wasn't going to let that distract me from finishing my hated tempo run.  I was going to run all 6 miles at my target pace if it killed me.

Well, it didn't kill me, but I did manage those 6 miles at an average pace of 8:51.  I kept reminding myself how glad I would be in mile 22 of my marathon that I stuck it out and did all these tempos.  Reminding myself of this kept my mind off the fact that I am absolutely terrified of getting hit by a car while running in the dark.  Add some thick soupy fog like there was this morning and I have full-blown panic attacks at the mere glimmer of oncoming headlights.  I'm all like "Do they see me?  They don't see me.  Do they see my blinking lights and reflective vest?  Maybe?  Probably not." whenever I see a car, and then I scamper far into the ditches on the side of the road when they pass me.  I think I'm going to break my ankle in the ditch before a car hits me.

The other thing I kept reminding myself about was how drenched I was becoming.  At one point I looked down and thought I had peed myself without my knowledge.  But no--it was just all sorts of sweat forming a nice spot on the front of my awesome purple running skirt:

In fact, I was a true running vision in purple this morning:

Now if only I could blog smells.  You'd really get a sense of how hard I worked to run all 6 miles of that tempo run.  Anyhoo, despite the darkness and the fog, it was a pretty good run. Mentally it was a huge victory for me; I think I am developing a thick mental skin (finally).  Let's hope it stays thickened up for the 22-mile run on tap for Saturday morning.

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.

My caution to the wind-throwing.

Today's weigh-in: 145.6  Up from yesterday.  Not sure what's causing the increase, but I think my clothes are looser these days (can't be sure until I try on some more "reference clothing."  But the capris I wore to work today are looser than I remember them being in the past).  I know better than to freak out when the number on the scale goes up but the clothes are starting to sag.

I have some stupid fears.  For example, I fear calling or emailing people I don't know well.  I fear asking salespeople at bike stores for help.  I fear making left turns across two lanes of traffic.

We all have our little fear crosses to bear.  But I have decided today that my itty bitty stupid fears shall rule me no more.  I will no longer be afraid to communicate with other people in ways that other people normally communicate fear-free. I'm throwing caution to the wind and throwing myself out there, me potentially looking like a total idiot (and the potential is quite high all the time) be damned.

Part of my new-found caution to the wind-throwing is running my next Ragnar in cow-spotted running shorts:

Your jealousy is palpable.

Our team name is "How Now Spotted Cow."  I don't really dig running in costumes, but I love crazy patterns, so I will run in these. I got them at Running Funky, and they have all of your basic running gear in a lot of annoying fabrics, which I love.  Their shipping was pretty fast, and they sent me a free pen--they now have a customer for life.

Another piece of my caution to the wind-throwing is not being afraid of this duathlon I've gotten myself into on Saturday.  I don't fear the running, and I don't fear the biking--what I fear most are the transitions.  Specifically, I fear that I will be slow and get run over before I get to the mount/dismount line for the biking part.  To get over this fear, I will be practicing my transitions tomorrow (on the grass this time, so as to avoid any body parts contacting the gravel again and blood pouring forth from my body).

I went on a nice 10-mile ride today to try out the cycling jersey I got yesterday, but I could tell my legs were tired and need the day off tomorrow.  If I feel the need to do something in the morning I may get up and do a short easy run before I practice transitioning in my front yard.  The sight of me running over and over again to my bike, putting on my gear, and running a few yards with my bike only to turn around and do it over again should give them something new to talk about.  Currently they talk about the crazy lady who runs and then gets on a bike and runs again in the wee hours of the morning.

Hopefully this crazy lady won't end up doing this on Saturday:

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I purchased a better helmet.



photo credit: eldan via photopin cc

There is bacon in this blog post.

Today I went on a 10 mile run.  It was really windy (16 mph winds), but the warmth and sun made up for that.  I was wearing one of my favorite race t-shirts and my screaming neon yellow running capris, and I was stoked that I didn't have to wear gloves.  But it wasn't a typical 10-mile run for me.

I was feeling pretty darn spectacular the entire time.  I felt really strong in mile 8, which is odd for me.  Even though I had to slow down when I was running head-on into that crazy wind (my stupid fault for not looking at the wind direction when planning my route), I felt good the whole time.

I felt strong.

I remember my first 10 mile run.  I felt like my knees were going to secede from my body, and it about destroyed me physically (But not mentally!  I was pretty pumped!).  I remember struggling to do 12 minute miles.  I remember how hard it was to finish that 10th mile, trudging down the street with my quads like cinder blocks, throwing my legs out in front of me and hoping like hell my legs wouldn't decide to stop before I did.

Today's run felt easy.  It's amazing what four months of marathon training will do.

My next round of marathon training starts on June 16th, this time for Twin Cities.  Let's see how much stronger I can get.

But I know you all are just dying to know what my weigh-in was like this morning, so I'll shut-up and just show you the picture:

So, in a week, this means I have lost 2 pounds--just by cooking at home.  My husband and I did go out yesterday before we went bike shopping (more on that in a later post), but I had oatmeal, fruit, and a strip of bacon that will make all other bacon hang its head in shame:

Oink.

The only reason I had a strip was because I realized that my meal had no protein in it whatsoever.  Since I am technically still recovering from my marathon, I have been very protein-conscious this past week.

Thus, I feel my week has begun in a pretty groovy way, on both the exercise and eating fronts.  Let's see if I can sustain the strength throughout this week, as I come to the slow realization that I have only 2 short weeks left at my current place of employment.

Dog pictures plus my first run-bike-run workout.

I got an early start this Saturday morning, mainly because my dogs like to wake us up several times while we are sleeping to take them out on the weekends.  They are old, cranky, and demanding dogs, and we are but mere slaves to their every whim.

"Dad.  Out of bed.  NOW."

Cranky old Sasha.

"In 5 minutes I will bark at you and you will do my bidding,  Slave."

After obeying the will of the dogs, at 7 A.M. I was out the door, ready to try this whole duathlon workout I had concocted (1 mile run, 5 mile bike, 1 mile run).  Not warming up at all (stupid), I booked a 9 minute mile, coming back to the house to get my bike.  I was impressed with myself that I remembered to wear my helmet for once, and took off for my 5 mile ride.

Well, I thought it would be a 5 mile ride.  Because I was totally caught up in the fact that I was riding straight into high winds, I was focused more on my suffering than the distance I was actually traveling.  I meant to do 2.5 miles out and back, but didn't notice my watch until about the 2.8 mile mark.  So, I decided just to go out to 3 miles and then turn around, bumping my ride up to 6 miles.

My cycling experience between miles 4.5-5.5 sucked.  There's no other way to describe it.  I was biking straight on into 16-20 mph winds, my quads were heavy and tired, and it was an uphill mile.  I was cycling in a very low gear just to survive.  It is amazing how much the wind affects your quads; as soon as I turned to face the east and the wind was at my back, riding became so much easier and I could crank it up into a higher gear to make up some lost speed.

After I jumped off the bike for my last run, it took me about a quarter of a mile to get my running legs back and not feel as if I was a big overweight penguin waddling down the road.  But I busted out about an 8:20 mile, so I was pretty happy with that.  I was especially happy that the last half-mile was not straight into the wind.

For my first duathlon-esque workout, it was pretty fun, despite the wind.  The variety really does help me mentally get through it, because this type of workout naturally breaks itself into segments to be conquered.  I think getting a new bike actually designed for this type of thing will help; the hubbs and I are going shopping today to lay out an obscene amount of cash for one.

While my workout was exciting today, what excited me more was seeing this right after I woke up:

Down from 146.2 yesterday.  This means I have lost almost 1.5 pounds in a week.  The hubbs suspects water weight, and no doubt that some of it is due to that.  But no matter what the cause, I'll take it.  I feel better, I have slept better, and my runs have been much better this week.  This whole eating better thing may just catch on with me again.

Sometimes long runs are great except for clothing.

I ran my last long run yesterday.  Well, the last one before my marathon, which is exactly a week from today.

Now, I've run 10 mile races much faster.  But never have I run a training run that fast.  I felt strong throughout, especially when I realized that one of the houses along this route had gotten a new Jack Russell Terrier-type dog that had not been trained to stay on the correct side of the street.  I even felt strong running the last three miles into the winds, which were MUCH stronger than 6 mph, by the way.  

I just kept telling myself the pace was challenging, but doable.  I must remember this a week from today when I am suffering in mile 19 and want to lay down and cry in the middle of the course.

What was difficult about this run was my clothing.  I normally just go out in running capris and a base layer in 40 degree temps, but the wind was pretty cold, so I wore a windbreaker as well.  However, because the wind was at my back for the first 2 miles, I took it off and tied it around my waist. Then the gels I had put in one of the pockets kept slapping me in the leg, and the whole jacket kept sliding over to the right and I had to readjust it every 5 minutes.  I finally gave up in mile 6 and put the jacket back on, taking off the detachable hood so it wouldn't be flapping around wildly behind me in the wind.  Then I took my gloves off.  Then I put them back on.  Then I took them off.  And put them back on again.

Irritating.  But it was so sunny and I was happy I didn't have to wear 4 layers of clothing that I wasn't letting it get me all irritated and cranky.  I let the wind do that.

Anyhoo, this next week the taper will smack me full on in the face.  Take a look at the last week on my training schedule:

I don't know what I will do with all of my free time.  Maybe I will have more than 10 minutes in the morning to get dressed, do my makeup and hair, and leave for work--and I may even actually arrive more than 2 minutes before I'm actually supposed to get there.  But hopefully I can keep it together mentally this week not to do more than what's on the schedule.

Alabama trail running and lots of dog pictures.

I went to Alabama this week.  I ran.  I came home.

In case you don't know, the drive from where I am in Illinois (almost Wisconsin) to eastern Alabama is pretty freaking long.  You could drive straight through (about 12 hours), but I am someone who does not run on caffeine or nicotine, so when I get tired, I have to stop and spend the night.  This means that I spend one entire day driving straight down Illinois (State motto: "The longest, boringest, and brokest state and the Land of Lincoln") and stop and spend the night after I cross the border into Kentucky.  I then get up and drive for about 5.5 hours the next day, crossing 3 states and getting to eastern Alabama where my mother lives.

The challenge presented to me whilst in Alabama is this:  I still needed to get my training runs in.  Last time I was down at the mom's I was chased by all sorts of country dogs when I ran near my mom's house (they barked in a southern accent, I swear), so I wasn't in the mood to take my chances there again.  Instead I did some googling and found that there was a trail in nearby Anniston--The Chief Ladiga Trail.  Actually, the end of the trail was in Anniston, and it started at the Georgia-Alabama state line.  After scoping out its exact location with my mom one day (and enjoying the fact that there were bathrooms there!), I headed back the next day for some speed work.

There is a quaint little park at the end of the trail in memory of this man.

I was there-no lie.

I did a ladder workout, and, because I had actually taken 2 days off after my long run this week instead of one, my legs and my foot were feeling really good.  I slammed out 7 miles on the trail, and my foot only felt slightly weird afterwards.  But I did some passive stretches of my big toe and popped some naproxen and it woke up feeling like a million bucks the next day.  Speaking of the next day, I went back to the trail and did 6 easy miles.  The scenery is pretty gorgeous (very un-Illinois-like), and they have cool signs like this:

Who knew the Litterbug was a smoker.

This was about 3 miles along the trail.  There is a university here that has the "Gamecocks" as their mascot.  I'm serious.

After my workouts on the trail, I got to go back and spend time with my mom and her little dog, and, at the end of my stay, I took my mother and her dog back to Illinois with me so they could spend time visiting with my other family members.  That little dog (unfortunately named Pinky) is a good traveler, although she does tend to hog the backseat and any beds in which she sleeps with a human:

She needs an entire seat in the car.  She has two beds and a blanket back there.

I had a tempo run on the training schedule yesterday, but I didn't get to run it because I would have had to do it that 8 mile run on a treadmill, and that's just not something I can do mentally.  I was also too tired to do it when I got home (amazing how sitting driving in a car for 6.5 hours will get you all pooped).  Thus, it is on tap for this morning, where it looks like spring has finally sprung up here in northern Illinois.  I'll let you know how it goes (and what I wore since it is finally somewhat warm up here) when I get back.

Mushroom burgers: Meh. New shoes: Any excuse will do.

I'm still doing well on my new "eating real food more of the time" eating plan.  I came home last night fully expecting to eat another chicken breast, but when I opened the package the distinct smell of potential food poisoning met my nostrils.   So I ahd to throw them out and find an alternative.

I scoped out what was in the fridge and freezer, and came across some mushroom burger-thingies that I had bought because a) I love mushrooms and b) I love burgers.  They are only 110 calories a burger, so I thought I would cook me up one of 'em and chow down.  I dressed it up by putting it on a whole wheat bagel for some carbage and adding jalapenos and salsa for bonus flavorings.

It looked edible. 

It was only meh.  Next time I'll try a turkey burger instead.

But enough about food; I have a burning question that needs some answering: How I can run 7 miles (5 at 10K pace) on a foot with tendinitis and have it feel freaking fabulous the next day?

Every time I get an injury, it seems that running more is usually the answer to making it feel better.  I will never understand this.

Of course, it may have to do with the fact that I discovered that it may have been my shoes doing the damage.  So, because I have two X chromosomes, I turned this injury into an excuse to go shoe shopping.  Because I ran pain-free in my Asics on Thursday night, I decided to go after another pair of Asics.  I purchased the Gel Cumulus-14s, which I had eyeballed a few months ago but never purchased.  But a close runner-up was the Brooks Glycerin--oh man, were those some nice-feeling shoes.  But they still put a little pressure on my extensor tendon that hurt, so I wisely opted out of getting them.  But I will be keeping them in mind for a future purchase.

So now that I have my new pair of shoes and the weather isn't all rainy and nasty like it was yesterday....

...I think I will try and go for my long run that is scheduled for today.  22 miles.  My plan is to go for all 22, but stop and turn around if I feel any pain in that tendon; I may even do a walk/run approach if the pain gets too bad.  But right now it feels perfectly normal, and hopefully the new shoes I bought can keep it that way.

Also, I plan on doing this run on the Long Prairie Trail, a place a coworker recommended to me because I am tired of being chased by people's dogs.  I am excited about running in a new place, but more excited that my foot stopped hurting and that I can resume my training.

Hopefully this run won't screw up that plan.  I'll let you know how it goes later.

For every running triumph, there is a huge vortex of suck.

In every life, a little rain must fall.  For every yin, there is a yang.  For me, for every good run, a little bad form must fall.  For every running triumph, there is a huge vortex of suck.

Yesterday I proved to myself that I could run my long runs at race pace.  After that run, one of the tendons in my foot proved that it could be a huge pain in the ass.  As I write this, I am trying to keep an ice pack on the top of my right foot.  After Googling frantically last night, hopping up and down on my foot about 12,000 times, and bending my foot and toes every which way (some of them in ways I'm sure they're not meant to go), I , Dr. Engelbrecht, have made the following diagnosis:

Tendinitis.  (Huge vortex of suck here.)  The prescription?  Rest and stop my moronic self from lacing my shoes too tightly.

I am currently addicted to wearing Mizuno Wave Rider 16s.  I just got a second pair (red) after my first purple pair, I am convinced, has help ease my Achilles suffering.

Yesterday's run was only the second time I have worn these beauties, having tried them out on a speed session earlier last week (these are some very very light shoes).  It was on that day that I realized my laces were a bit snug on my left foot, but I didn't loosen them.

And I didn't loosen them yesterday before my 16 mile run either.  So, kiddos, it's now time for a little lesson from the teacher:

Tight shoe + 16 mile run faster than you've ever run it before = Ooooh girl your tendons are in TROUBLE.

I'm just glad it's not a stress fracture.  To make sure it doesn't become one, I think I may end up cancelling my treadmill session for tomorrow and cross training one more day, especially since the pain was worse when I got up and walked around on it all day. Speaking of cross training, I am trying to make sure I get in weights plus more cardio on those days so I can get the best of both worlds and increase my training volume, as the boys from Run Less, Run faster say.  That means today's Cathextravaganza DVD choice was Athletic Training, a workout I haven't done in a long time.

I forgot how much the cardio portion at the beginning kicks my sweet patootie.  You start with about 20 minutes of low-impact cardio using a step--very simple moves, but very effective.  I felt like I was gargling my heart at the end of that section.  After that, she uses light weights (5-8 lbs), some resistance bands, a firewalker band, and a gliding disc to work all your major muscle groups.  It's a nice workout for the day after a long run because it doesn't kill you, but still gets your heart a-pumpin'.

And I may end up doing the same tomorrow if this tendon thing doesn't clear up.  We shall see what some ice and a good night's sleep can do.

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.

Mother Nature: Knock it off so I can run outside.

This week has been another week stuck on the treadmill because Mother nature feels like she has something to prove by either making it:

1) Too cold to run safely outside unless frostbite is the new black
2) Snow like a *BLEEP* with high winds and white-out conditions.

Maybe she's trying to make up for the fact that I ran 4.5 miles in this outfit on December 2nd:

My house is under perpetual construction.  It's my cross to bear.

At least I can wear similar outfits when I run on the treadmill.

Wednesday was an easy run day (6 miles), and I feel like those are getting easier to do mentally.  Six slow miles doesn't seem so torturous anymore, especially not with good treadmill TV on in front of me.  The tempo run I did today wasn't any easier on the old mental state than last week; however, I tried something a little different with that 8 mile tempo, 6 of which are supposed to be actually run at tempo pace:

I split it into two 3 milers with a 400m walk in between each 3 mile segment.

Part of me feels like I totally wimped out, and the other part of me feels super-duper smart by figuring out a way to survive this workout on the treadmill.  I had to split this into two smaller, achievable runs, because when I got up I had absolutely NO INTEREST WHATSOEVER in running this run on the treadmill.  I wanted to run outside so I could run faster than I do on the treadmill.  By my outside was full of white stuff and 20 mph winds, so, like Mother Nature, I only had two choices:

1. Skip the workout entirely and be a total and complete *BLEEP*
2. Make the workout work for me.

Obviously, option #2 won out, which I consider a smallish victory.  However, I still need to kick up the speed (which I did compared to last week) on these runs when I do them on the treadmill.  I take a small measure of comfort in the fact that it looks like I didn't stop at all when you look at my Garmin graphs:

And I only ended up doing 7.5 miles because I had to get to work and my dogs were circling the treadmill in a rather menacing fashion, waiting for me to get off it (they have an intense desire to lick my sweat, which is intensely gross.  But they're dogs.  They lick a lot grosser things).  

Looks like I'm going to have to work on not taking that break in the middle as well as kicking up the speed.  That is, if Mother Nature doesn't decide to back off on this whole "Oh gee it's, like, winter or something" thing and I'm forced into another week of treadmill running.  

Tomorrow the treadmill isn't an option--it's outside for a slow 20 miler.  I'll let you know if Mother nature behaves or not.

Reading is bad for you. Well, for me, at least.

My training schedule calls for 2 days of cross-training every week--on Sunday and Monday.  Technically the plan gives me the option of running easy on Sundays, but I haven't taken advantage of it.

Until today.

I know what you're thinking: "Hey, idiot, today is MONDAY.  Get a calendar and use it."

I am aware that it is Monday.  I am also aware of the fact that sometimes I read things about running that are meant for people who warm up at my half marathon pace (8:30) and then try them out and/or add them into my current training.  And then I get injured.

So what did I read this time?  I read about this thing called "embedded circuit training."  From what I read, you are supposed to run about 2 miles on one of your easy days, then do a circuit of strength exercises with 30 seconds of aerobic activity in-between.  Then you are to run 2 more miles.

This is supposed to give you some serious PR-age and make you faster.  So I thought to myself, "Hey--I can run those two miles on either end of this on my treadmill, then do one of my circuit DVDs.  Do that once a week on Monday, and then I'll be SUPERFAST; I'll break the freaking laws of physics."

Yeah.  Well.

I did run those 2 miles first on the treadmill (by the way, "Monsters Inside Me" is great treadmill TV).  My legs were tired.  I mean, TIRED.  You'd think I ran 18 miles two days ago or something.  Anyway, since these 2 miles were supposed to be run slowly, I didn't even go above the 4.5 mph mark.  After the first 3/4 of a mile, my legs were feeling pretty good.  My left IT band was whining a little and my left hamstring was "ahem-ing" me every now and then, but I felt all good and warmed up for my circuits.

I did some total body circuits, seeming to forget that yesterday I did Cathe's Supercuts workout again (it is becoming a regular Sunday workout; DEEE-licious!), which involves a lot of squatting and other leg maneuvers.  During the lower-body portion of the DVD today, I could feel that I may have slightly overdone it.  Just to not push it any more than I already had, I nixed the idea of running another two miles afterwards, and just went shopping instead to walk off whatever damage I may have done.

Unfortunately, I'm really feeling that run now.  My mistake, in hindsight that is painfully 20/20, was that I need to give my legs a freaking day off during these two cross-training days.  I keep forgetting that I am a rank amateur at this whole "running a marathon" thing, and I need to take it easy for my first one so I can run a second.  And maybe even a third.  Thus, I am hoping to get to bed early so sleep can restore my legs for my speed session on the treadmill tomorrow.  (I wanted to run it outside, but Mother Nature has foiled me again with her making-rain-turn-into-snow trick.)

There were, however, two bright notes this weekend:

#1. I bought my first tube of Body Glide.  After my last 18-miler, unmentionables were chafing that made doing other unmentionable things very painful.  I am disturbed that it says "Do not use on deep puncture wounds, animal bites, serious burns."

Mainly I am disturbed because those warnings are usually there because some idiot like me actually tried to do these things.


#2. I cranked out 15 bicep curls on each arm using my 20-pound dumbbell.  Before this time, I was cranking them out with my 15s; for some reason today I decided to throw caution (and quite possibly my left shoulder joint) to the wind and try them with some 20s.  When I was done I grunted in a distinctly man-like fashion.  I felt like this lady looks:

 photo credit: meehanf via photopin cc

I would have pitied the fool that messed with me while I was out shopping this evening.  But no one did.  Unfortunately.  Hopefully I can channel my bicep curl triumph tomorrow morning when hitting the treadmill for some 1200m repeats.

My main running goal? No crippling injuries.

Yesterday and today consisted of my typical cross-training festival of Friedrich (Cathe, that is).  On Saturday I did Supercuts again, and, as always, it was DEEEE-licious.  My glutes will surely be firing correctly after doing that one for a month or two, and my entire core always feels worked after that one.  Decided I would tack on the Core #2 workout afterwards because I hadn't ever done it before.  Let's just say it is tougher than the Core #1 workout but doable; however, one should be wary of any workout that features a move called "corkscrew crunches."

Today was upper-body only, and I did Cathe's Upper Body Pyramid simply because I didn't do it last week.  I could really feel it getting after my back and pecs; dumbbells were strewn about everywhere this morning.  It was a beautiful way to start the day.

I know you'd love to hear all of the nitty-gritty details of this weekend's weight-lifting and cross-training Cathextravaganza, but I feel the need to address something a person said to me about my long run on Saturday.  That something was this:

"10 minutes per mile?  That's not very fast.  Can't you run faster than that?"

Yes.  Yes I can.  But there was a time when that was a blazing speed for me.

Not many of you know the story behind my first 5K, ran on June 19th, 2010.  I had lost a lot of weight by 2010, and had been working out faithfully since 2005 doing everything BUT running.  However, I had not quit smoking yet--I was smoking almost 2 packs a day by the middle of 2010.  Yes, 40 ciggies a day for me.  And all while working out for an hour every morning.  Everyone always acts so incredulous when they see someone smoking after working out at the gym; I think I'm one of the few people who understand why they do it.

It really is an addiction, smoking.  You have weird addict thoughts, and the ciggies take over.  They lie to you.  They whisper that you need them, that you can't live without them.  They make you panic when you realize you're out of cigarettes, and you will risk speeding tickets and will leave your house looking like a rug they uncover at the bottom of a pile of stuff on a "Hoarders" episode just to go get a pack.  One time my ciggies told me that I should keep smoking because, after all, what else would I do when I took the dogs outside?!?  Just STAND THERE, for Christ's sake?

Yep.  Addict thinking.

So after watching my mother-in-law die of cancer and realizing I didn't want to die that way, I decided to quit.  It wasn't easy, but I made a plan based on the mathematical concept of EVEN NUMBERS.  Every time I went outside to get my nicotine groove on, you see, I always smoked two ciggies.  Therefore, to start down my path to nicotine-freeness, I should cut that number in half for a week.  Therefore, I would reduce my overall nicotine consumption by half, and then cut that number in half the next week, and so on and so forth until I wasn't smoking any at all.  Easy, I thought.  Nothin' to it.

Except that first week almost killed me--killed me with a crushing sense of fatigue the likes of which I have never experienced since.  I hadn't realized how much the cigs had sped up my metabolism, and I was experiencing a huge crash just by smoking HALF as much.  After that went away, I did pretty well for a few weeks until I got down to 5 a day...and then I sat at 5 a day for a few weeks.

My life, unfortunately, began to revolve around those 5 cigarettes.  I could think of nothing all day but when I could suck down one of those precious nicotine nuggets.  I thought about them constantly.  I daydreamed about them.

It was so damn pathetic.

In the middle of my pathetic 5-a-day parade, I realized that I had to go get a haircut.  As I sat in the comfy chairs waiting for my best stylist ever named Courtney to finish with a customer, I saw a poster hanging on the front door of the salon that read:

"Brett's Run--5K Race."

I didn't even know how long a 5K was (I had to go home and look it up).  But I did know that my husband used to run cross country in high school, so if he could do it, how hard could this running thing be?  I had an entire two weeks before the race to get my training in, after all.

Well, after one day of "training," (which consisted of me thinking I could run 3 miles but almost puking after 2) I knew I couldn't be doing this smoking thing anymore.  Not only did I look absolutely ridiculous having a smoke after running around the neighborhood, but I realized that to be a good runner, smoking was a definite no-no.  A no-no-no-no-NO.

So I finally set a quit date.  June 15th, 2010.  I smoked the last of my 5 ciggies, wrote a good-bye letter to my ciggies, and gave the rest of the pack to my husband for him to dispose of at his discretion (I found out later he took them to a dumpster after he poured water all over them).  The three next days between quitting and the race weren't that bad (most of my withdrawal came within my first week).  On race day, I woke up all nervous and jittery; even my husband got infinitely tired of me asking, "So do I warm up NOW?  How fast should I go?  Should I take walk breaks? Am I heel striking?  Do I warm up now?" that he rolled his eyes at me.

The best thing was that I didn't think about ciggies at all that morning.  Just racing.  I ran just to run, just because I could, just to have fun.  And I came in at a 10:00 minute/mile pace, good enough for 10th in my age group.  My first 5K.  I was so proud of myself, especially of the fact that I hadn't walked once (although I thought about it quite often).  I caught the running bug right then and there in the parking lot afterwards, plotting how I could get better, do better on my next run.

My 5K pace is now much faster (between 7:40 and 8:00).  But I think wanting to run my first full 26.2 at my former 5K pace is a pretty reasonable goal.  And a pretty damn good one.  You see, everyone has a different fast, slow, good, and bad.  We're all at different levels on this journey called running.

And sometimes the goal of running isn't to run as fast as you can; it's just to see if you can go the distance without suffering horrific crippling injuries.  (Well, in my case it is, anyway.)

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.

Total Running Moron Tuesday

I had every intention of running outside this morning.  I really, really did.  I had 4 mile repeats to do, and the weather was in the 50s at 5 A.M. on January 29th.  In Illinois.  Which, in case you didn't know, is in the Northern Hemisphere, so we are supposed to be in the depths of winter, but we're not--the Snow Miser is on vacay and his brother Heat Miser is here to stay.  At least for today, anyway.

But, as you probably suspect by now, I didn't get to do my repeats this morning.  I did do these things:

a) Go outside.
b) Run

But it was just too freaking windy (20 mph winds) to do any sensible speed work.  I only managed a mile warm-up before I turned around and came back, being blown all over the place in the meantime. I know you hard core types would have been pumping out the miles and cursing Mother Nature into the wind the entire time, but I actually like to get up to the proper speed in my speed work.  And maintain it.  Winds that are too high don't let me do that, you see.  I toyed with the idea of doing them on my treadmill, but the thought of the mental anguish I would suffer doing that when I can barely manage 1000m repeats on the thing caused me even more mental anguish.

So I just came back in and got ready for work--but I packed a bag of running clothes for later.

After my last period class, I changed into said running clothes:

The gruesome aftermath of my run.  But my compression sleeves are freaking awesome.

I snapped on my new Garmin footpod, slapped on my 910XT, and then began to run in endless circles around the upper floor of our school, over the terrazzo floors and through the halls.  I did this in front of a lot of students and staff that knew me, which resulted in a lot of battle cries, jeers, and snide comments thrown my way.

Lessons learned on this run:

• It is much nicer to run mile repeats in endless circles than on my treadmill.  While technically my displacement for both would be zero, I have actually traveled a distance by running in those circles.
• There is no wind or rain when running inside the school.
• High school students sure do come up with witty things to say about teachers who are running in the hallways.  Witty, funny, and highly inappropriate.
• I maintained pace nicely, unlike what would have happened this morning.
• It was actually nice to talk to people in the halls that I knew while I was circling; it helped pass the time.
• I shocked a lot of students who didn't expect to see me running all-out at them in the hallway in shorts and a t-shirt.  I was not in my regular teachery uniform, you see.  I half expected some of them to start throwing homework at me just to get me to stop barrelling towards them.
• My cadence sucks.  Going to have to work on that.
• My new purple compression socks are working out quite nicely.  They would look great in a race photo or two.

I didn't care that I looked like a total running moron.  I had a run that needed to get done (without getting injured!), and I plan on crossing that finish line of my first marathon somewhere close to my time goal.  I hope to do it upright, however, and not by crawling and/or throwing myself one body part at a time towards the line.