Day 3, Week 13: My running guilty pleasures which may or may not include jazz hands.

This morning I just hung around on my treadmill and did a little speed work.

Managed to convince the cat to get some exercise, too.

It was a 5 x 1000m repeat session, which I breezed through unlike last week's 8 x 800m workout.  This is because I was smart enough to crank up my headphones this time so as to not hear how badly my lungs were wheezing their way through those 1000s.  I also did not watch the little dot move slowly around the track for the entire workout, and instead actually looked up at the TV every once in a while.  One thing I did do during my recoveries (200m of walking) was start singing to whatever song was on my headphones, which accidentally woke up the hubbs.  Here's the exchange we had after he came downstairs to find out what the heck was happening:

Hubbs:  What was that noise?  Is everything OK?!?

Me: What noise?  The treadmill?

Hubbs: No; the other noise.  The high-pitched irritating noise I just heard.

Me: ........you mean when I was singing?

Hubbs: .*turns around and walks back upstairs*


I felt so guilty about waking him up I took a post-run mugshot.

WANTED: Singing horribly while running

(Confession: I didn't really feel guilty.  This is the same man that wakes me up almost every night by yelling at the dogs not to tromp on me and wake me up.  And those dogs don't feel guilty about that at all.  See evidence on non-guilt below.)

Guilt level: ZERO

Singing on the treadmill is one of my running guilty pleasures.  I know other runners have their own guilty pleasures, but here's the rest of those little things I love to do that I would never actually do when not dressed in running gear:

• Sneakily pacing someone during a race.  I know I can ask to run with people and most will gladly oblige, but I do like being in stealth pace mode for some reason.
• Snot rockets.  Lots of snot rockets.
• Counting how many people are wearing colored tights vs. black tights during a race.  This helps the time pass by a little easier.
• Justifying a new running shoe purchase with "BUT I HAVE A MARATHON COMING UP AND I NEED THEM" (To which the correct reply is "You always have a marathon coming up!")
• Listening to lots of dance/club remixes of songs while running and always being one second away from head-titling to that dance beat like the SNL Roxbury guys.
• Justifying buying a slew of new dance club remixes from iTunes with "BUT I HAVE A MARATHON COMING UP" (see the correct reply above)
• Continually signing up for marathons.
• And finally....post-run jazz hands.

In front of caricatures of me and da hubbs, no less.

Prepare yourself for the learnings coming at you right now:

• I'm convinced the only reason hubbs puts up with my running quirks is the fact that he ran cross country in high school.  
• I also tell hubbs he has to put up with my running stuff because it was in the wedding vows but he just doesn't remember it
• How do other runners not snot rocket during a cold race?  If I don't I will suffocate on my own phlegm.
• Any purchase that is related to running is always justified.  Because I said so.

Tomorrow's workout: A weight workout of some kind.  I'll probably be stupid and do some Boot Camp, though.

Elgin FoxTrot 10 Mile Race: I really really really wanted to blow my nose.

Today I ran the Elgin FoxTrot 10 mile race.  I have run this one before in 2011 when it was obnoxiously hot and every water station also had towels soaking in ice water (AWESOME), and it was the first race I ran after running my very first half-marathon.  I ran with a buddy back then, and we took it slow because I was having a neuroma flare-up and he was having hamstring issues.

At the time, I was really more focused on our heat-induced and injury-riddled misery than the race itself.  Especially since we weren't racing it-we were running it.

And I didn't really race it this year.  Still being recovery from my marathon, I didn't want to push it and get injured, especially since Ragnar Chicago is right around the corner.  But I also didn't want to push it because of this chest cold which is still lingering in the ol' lungs.

So I decided to use this as a training run--my long run for the day, but pushing the pace faster than I would if I were running amongst the farm animals and open fields like I normally do.  I know some people feel you shouldn't do a race unless you actually train for it and run like a bat out of hell every time, but I disagree.  I think races can be used for those runs in which you want to run faster than usual but have a hard time actually doing that on your own without the thrill and competition of other racers around you.

I also think races can be used to practice a future marathon pace...say for a marathon that I am signed up for in October.  And say a pace between 9 and 9:30.....just sayin'.

Anyway, the race started on time at 7:30 A.M. and the weather was perfect: temps in the 40s and no wind.  As I stood in the pack at the starting line waiting for the gun to go off, everyone around me kept talking about how hilly the course was.  (I could hear them, you see, because I forgot my freaking iPod.  Angh.)  I didn't remember any huge hills from when I ran it two years ago, but I was taking their word for it and getting all freaky-deaky about those hills.

We hit a nice hill in the first 0.3 miles, and then we kept rolling up and down them throughout the course.  In fact, here's what the elevation profile of this course looked like (with my speed right along with it):

But, really, those hills were nothing compared to the one I had to run whilst in Tennessee doing a Ragnar:

All hills since that time have been compared to Monteagle.  And not one of them have come close to the 4 miles or so of crazy mental zanies I went through just to keep going up that hill just to hand off the slap bracelet to the next runner who got to run down the hill. 

So let's all just stop freaking out about these bumps people around here call "hills."

Most of the race I felt pretty good; my breathing was never out of control, and I backed off when I felt it starting to get all crazy wheezy.  I managed a 1:34:05 finish time, so about a 9:25 pace.  My chest was more full of junk than I thought it was from the chest cold, and I kept coughing for the first 3 miles (and for about 10 minutes after I crossed the finish line). 

But really all I wanted to do was blow my nose.  They need to have kleenex at all water stops.

I have written before about what a snot machine I am when I start running (and biking is even worse; I am a human hagfish on the bike), but when I'm sick the slime coming out of my nose reaches epically gross proportions.  Since I try not to snot rocket during a race, I was sucking in the nose slime until mile 8, where I just couldn't stand it any longer and let one loose along the side of the road.  Well, I meant to do it along the side of the road, but ended up blowing it all over the bottom of my shirt.  Fabulous.  I then literally sucked it up for the remaining few miles until I crossed the finish line, got to my car, and all snot broke loose in the parking lot.  It's one of the joys of running, people.  Truly majestic and inspiring.

Since my official race photographer slept in until 10:30 A.M. today (it's like he got up and ran 10 miles and was really tired.  Not.), this was the best I could do:

This was taken after the post-race snot incident.  Be glad you can't see that part of my face.

Weigh-in info:  I was at 145.4 this morning, so the weight seems to be coming down a bit.  Maybe the sickness made my body hoard the poundage.  I am doing OK with my eating, although I did splurge and have these SmartFood corn thingies in a sour cream and onion flavor so strong I fear I will be burping up that taste for eternity.  I've been being much better about finding recipes and cooking at home; it's all about building habits, isn't it?  Like blowing your nose when snot starts to run out onto your face.

This post is brought to you by the letter P, the color Brown, and the number 20.

I finally got a chance to do a 20 mile long run in a dog-free zone today.  I drove up to Capron, IL, to the Long Prairie Trail head so I could get my long run on.

14 miles of trail goodness.

Imagine my surprise when I got there and saw that the parking area gate was closed, and the sign below was on the gate:

That's when I got pissed off (hence the letter P that is sponsoring this post).  Capron isn't exactly right near my house, and it was already pretty late in the afternoon (1:30 thereabouts).  This meant I had to drive to nearby Caledonia, where I knew there was a parking lot along the trail that had no gate.  Screw you, budget cuts.

I got out and put on my super-sexy running/hydration backpack:

OK, so the sweat gives it away that I took this after my run, not before.  We'll have to cope with the fact that this picture is technically out of sequence.

Here's a quick review of my Camelbak hydration backpack:

It's very good.  I like it.

Here's a longer review:

It's very good; it doesn't bounce around when running, holds 2 liters of water in a bladder that is easy to empty and dry out, and has two deep front pockets that can hold all of my stuff.  On this run my stuff was as follows: 9 gel packets, sunglasses, my phone, a big can of pepper spray (more about that later), and a pair of gloves.  These filled pockets never felt bulky or in the way.  It's almost as if they designed it for maximum storage with minimum getting-in-your-way-age.  I like it.

Anyway, back to what I was wearing, which is MUCH more important:

I was very excited to be trying out one of my new Nike running shirts and the Nike running capris that I got at the outlet mall on my way back from Alabama.  I also had on my nifty blue compression sleeves because they're fun.  And compressive.

Please to excuse my thunder thighs.

After making sure my attire was appropriate and positioned correctly, I took off down the trail.  Well, I took off a few feet and then stopped to use a small restroom that looked like it had last been cleaned right before the end of the Cretaceous period and still contained all of the debris from the asteroid impact that killed the dinosaurs but not this little restroom.

I did not sit down, I swears.

NOW I took off down the trail, and noticed two things:

1) There were still patches (and sometimes long patches) of hardened slush/snow on the trail.  Dammit.
2) Everything was brown.  Brown brown brown brown BROWN.  April showers, let's hurry up with those May flowers, alright?

Brown brown brown.  And more brown.  And some snow.

Fortunately the snow patches cleared out after about a mile on the trail.  Then, I got to really take in the sights of the Long Prairie Trail:

Snack shop?  Freaking awesome.  Unless this is some sort of weird "Hansel & Gretel" thing. 

Boy will this be better when it's green and not brown.

Near the trail head at Capron.  That is an old tricycle around which that tree is growing.  And it's brown.

This was at the bottom of the same tree as the previous picture.  Looks like a bike with no tires.  That is brown.

The view from a rest area (there are some nice ones).  You get a lovely view of all the brown from here.

I did read the sign, but I only took this picture because the word "beaver" is on the sign.  I didn't know I lived near Beaver Creek! Yes, I am a large woman-child.

Proof that I made it to Capron.  Even the freaking buildings are brown.

But right before I made it to Capron, this greeted me on the trail:

It's a good thing I have done a few obstacle courses; I shimmied on under those branches like a pro.  The cyclists on the path were a bit stumped, though, circling endlessly in front of it and trying to figure out how to get themselves, perched atop a bike, underneath that mess.  (Hint: Get off the bike.)


On my way back towards Caledonia, I encountered a gaggle of geese on the path.  They weren't moving, not for me or for anyone.  It was THEIR trail, dammit, and I was NOT WELCOME.  Well, I had to pull out the pepper spray and start a rumble with the geese by spraying it directly in front of them (no, I DID NOT pepper spray any geese.  Stop calling the ASPCA already).  This got them off the middle of the trail, and I scooted on though the parted sea of geese.  One of them started chasing me, so I picked up the pace a bit a pepper sprayed in front of him (her?) to stop the chase.

I continued on down the trail snot-rocketing as I went (it was windy; my nose gets all mucus crazy in the wind), wiping my nose with my hand afterwards.  With my hand.  The same hand I had just used to launch puke-colored pepper spray in front of geese.

Before I knew it, my right nostril was on fire.  And the wind going up my nose felt like it was just fanning the flames.

I sucked some water from my backpack and then spat it in my hand.  I then tried to throw as much water as I could up my nose, which is hard to do when you're running with your nose on fire.  This also tends to interfere with this thing called "breathing" as you run.  But I'm glad I did it; the fire simmered down to a smolder for the next 10 minutes of the run.  And I wisely used my sleeve to wipe my nose rather than my fingers from that point forward.

Overall, it was an interesting run, and the miles kind of flew by--all 20 of them.  That's surprising, considering how straight and brown the path is, but I guess it was the newness of it all.  I felt stronger at the end of the run, having negative split it without meaning to do so.  Hate it when that happens, huh?  The foot was quiet the entire time so I could solely focus on how tired my quads were.

But, alas, that was my last 20 mile run of my training plan.  Now I have two days of cross-training, and a modified week due to the half marathon I'm running a week from today.  Any suggestions for how to modify a tempo run 2 days before a half-marathon?

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

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.

Winter running, gloves, and snot rockets.

When I woke up today, my left Achilles felt fabulous rather than tight and sore on its lateral aspect, which is how it has usually felt for well over a month.

What better way to celebrate this joyous occasion than to go for an 8 mile run in 13 degree wind chills?  I know, that's exactly what you would have thought, too.  And you also would have thought to wear this stunning running outfit:

Neon yellow with purple running tights.  Please note dog -shaped throw-rug in the background.

You must understand that I run in the country because I live in the country--and this means I often run to the sound of guns being fired at some country critter(s), and I wear obnoxious colors to be seen not only by motorists but also by people with guns firing at country critters.  Although what with people killing elementary school children and firefighters lately, I picked up the pace a bit when I heard the guns, hoping that someone wasn't trying to use me in my bright yellow neon-ness as target practice.

But I would like to talk about one piece of running gear I have on in that picture: my gloves.  Having braved 2 winters as a runner in Illinois, I have been in constant search of a pair of winter gloves that are lightweight enough to not make me fear of losing fingers to frostbite in the later miles of any cold run, and I think I've found them.  They are Saucony Women's Ulti-Mitten gloves, which are pretty damned pricey but worth every penny.  They come with a very bright light that is USB rechargeable and have a spot on the glove to clip the light, so no need for carrying it.  But what really amazed me was that these gloves are like gloves and mittens AT THE EXACT SAME TIME.

I know, you're probably thinking, "Hey, idiot--they have made those little flippity-top gloves now for a while.  These aren't so special."  Well, I beg to vehemently disagree with you and then roll my eyes at you smugly while putting one hand on my hip.

You see, these gloves are actually full-on gloves; most of the flip-top type glove/mittens I've found have the fingertips of the gloves cut off, which makes running with them in 13 degree windchills a tad dangerous, in my opinion, unless you have hand warmers with you.  Instead of cutting the fingertips off so you can manipulate things without feeling like you're hitting puberty again, they make the tip of each index finger and thumb a flip-top in and of itself.  The mitten-part of the Ulti-Mitten then flips over the gloves; if you ever don't want to use the mitten, there is a pocket on the back of the glove into which you can tuck the mitten-sleeve-thing.

These gloves have been finger-savers along with sanity savers.  Once my fingers get cold, my inner whiny-baby starts coming out, and there's just something about thinking I may lose a finger that demotivates me on my runs.  But with these gloves, that whiny little voice sniveling about how expensive amputation would be and wondering if my insurance would cover running-related frostbite has been entirely silent, much to my pleasure.  Do my fingers get cold?  Yep.  Do they go numb and start hurting?  No.  Runs are much more enjoyable when you're not contemplating how you'll type your blog posts minus a few fingers.

Another cool feature (no cold weather running pun intended) that these gloves/mitten hybrids possess is a little strip of soft cloth on each glove that--are you ready for this--is PERFECT for wiping your nose after you let loose a snot rocket on the fly.  I produce copious amounts of snot during cold runs, and my nose sure could have used this feature on several of last winter's runs where I felt like the bottom of my nose was encased in frozen crusty-nastiness at the end of a run.  (Note: My husband thinks this feature is pretty gross.  But he likes that I don't come in the house with snot frozen to clothing and/or body parts.)

Overall, it was a nice little run I had today.  I did have to keep the pace down as to not aggravate the Achilles as much, but sometimes it's nice to have a run where you're not trying to keep some number in your head or in your feet.

Or snot in your nose instead of on your face.