Eugene Marathon – I am a runner

Me and Stephen crossing the finish line.

Eugene Marathon – May 2, 2010

Most mornings I wake up pretty early to go running before work.  It’s not easy and I often have to ask myself, “Are you a runner or not?”  That usually gets me out of bed.  It’s only recently that I have started to feel like a real runner, I didn’t expect to have to prove it with anything more than having the integrity to get out of bed and do the training I’ve committed to.  After last weekend’s marathon I *know* I’m a runner, and I wear the badge proudly.  Not because I did incredibly well (I didn’t), but because I went in worried about failing, was forced to decide who I was in the middle of the race, and finished by achieving a personal record by the skin of my teeth.

Sunday morning, May 2, 6:50 a.m.  My friend Stephen and I line up in the starting chute near the 9:00-minute mile marker right outside the legendary Hayward Field.  A little more than four hours from now we’ll be finishing our marathon by doing half a lap around the track inside the illustrious Hayward field, the epicenter for American track and field in the 70′s.

My friend Stephen (guest blogger from January) and I have known each other for at least 15 years.  He has run for fitness off and on in the past, and he started training for endurance events about six months before I did.  Coincidentally one of our first experiences together involved running.  Our group of mutual friends used to attend  a lot of music festivals in the summer and Stephen and I, as the fastest amongst our peers, used to run the tarps in every morning to stake our claim when the festival gates opened.

Having both accomplished our first marathons late last fall (he, Portland; me, CIM), and having recently run half marathons in the same amount of time (he, Mercer Island; me Canyonlands) we decided to find a nice spring marathon to do together.  We discovered the Eugene Marathon via a list of the 10 fastest marathons (meaning the marathons where the most people qualify for Boston), a race that is only in its four year, but has gotten rave reviews.  Eugene, home of the University of Oregon, is known as Track Town USA, and is considered the birthplace of the American running craze.  How could we resist the rich running history??

The weather couldn’t have been better.  It’s somewhere around 45-50 degrees, by far the warmest start I’ve experienced in the last six months, and in most cases far warmer than any finish I’ve experienced in the last six months.  It was overcast and would be partly sunny later in the morning, perfect conditions as far as I’m concerned.

Stephen is in a great mood, ready to just tear it up out there and achieve our goal of a four-hour marathon.  I am not quite as enthusiastic because I am busy dragging around a dark cloud of doubt:  my leg, though better thanks to some stretches prescribed by a physical therapist, is still not up to par.  On top of that, my physiologist just tested me and said my glycogen stores, which were pretty low last time, were even worse this time and he felt that I was fatigued.  I was fatigued, but I’d chalked it up to mental distress, not physical distress.  Boy was I wrong.

The starting gun goes off, the crowd cheers, and we all assume the position as we press forward: left arm raised to look at our GPS watches, right index finger poised just above the Start button.  As we cross the timing mat we hit the start button, and take off running.

Race starts are always tricky.  All too often people don’t seed themselves properly in the corral (according to pace), and you wind up wasting precious energy darting around them to keep to your own pace schedule.  This was not the case on Sunday.  After running about 100 feet we checked our pace and we were pleasantly surprised to see that we were right on target.  No darting necessary.

You may wonder what I mean by pace schedule.  We had a mile-by-mile pacing chart, printed on wrist-bands that we wore during the race, which were customized not only to our desired pacing strategy (warm-up, build small cushion, cool down), and to our desired time goal, but also took into consideration the geographic specifics of our course.  For example, there was a big incline from mile 3-5, and a downhill from mile 5-8.  The pacing for the uphill section was slower than the pacing for downhill section.  (races2remember.com)

By the time we reach the 10K (6.2 mile) mark, we’re warmed up and feeling good, and finally settling into a groove.  Our time was 56:21 at that point, definitely my fastest 10K to date.  My bum leg is okay, tight, but not painful.  We are about two minutes ahead of schedule, we are eating and drinking regularly, the weather and the surroundings are gorgeous, the temperature perfect.

At mile 10 we start another gradual uphill.  It’s not nearly as bad as the first one (and truthfully, none of them were really bad, it’s a very flat course).  But it is at this point that I first realize that I am tired already, and wonder how I’m going to do 16 more miles at this pace.  I try to boost my spirits by recalling that there’s another nice gradual downhill coming up, and talk myself out of getting negative so soon in the race.

As we near the halfway mark we can see the next timing station and the clock reads something just shy of two hours.  I’ve been itching for an official sub-two-hour half marathon time.  In my first marathon I hit the halfway mark just under two hours, but the race reported only gun-time splits, not actual chip-time splits (meaning I wear a timing chip on my shoe, and my official time starts when I cross the starting line, usually several minutes after the starting gun has gone off).  So if you look at my CIM record you’ll see my half marathon time clocked at 2:01:38, but in reality it was closer to 1:59.  I suggest to Stephen that we sprint to the halfway point to get there in under two hours and I take off.  We race for the timing mats and cross seconds before the clock clicks over to two hours.  Official half marathon split: 1:58:00.

After recovering from the mini-sprint I realize I’m getting more and more tired.  Somewhere around mile 17 I begin to despair.  I am exhausted, I want to stop.  It’s way too soon to be feeling this fatigued.  I look at my watch.  I’m way off schedule (I saw an 11-minute pace at one point–totally humiliating), I’m running too slow to achieve a BQ (Boston qualifier), much less a PR (personal record–in my case anything faster than 4:07:21, my previous best).  I’ve pushed through this kind of fatigue before, but not with 9-10 miles left to go.

My options are this:  quit or run.  Are you a runner, or not?  I AM A RUNNER!  Then just do it.  So I ran.  I gave up on the idea of qualifying for Boston, and the idea of achieving a PR.  I tried to settle into a new pacing groove, and I ran.  It was HARD, not just because I was tired, but because I had to overcome the disappointment of not only not achieving my Boston goal, but continue on knowing I was in danger of running my worst race ever.  In January 2010 I ran the Disney World marathon, my 2nd marathon, in below-freezing temps and achieved a 4:16.  It was painful to think that Eugene might be worse than that.  FYI, I’m pretty proud of that 4:16 time.  It was an incredibly good time for a 2nd marathon, only five weeks after my first marathon.  But it would not have been an excellent finishing time for Eugene.

Stephen, it turns out, is having his toughest miles of the course too.  Nothing like being in this together.  I’ve run races alone, and I’ve run with other people.  I don’t talk much when I’m racing, but it’s really nice to have someone else along for the ride.  I was happy to have Stephen’s company the entire time, but having him there during these worst miles, even though we weren’t talking much, if at all, is comforting.  I said, “I’m tired.”  He replied, “Yeah…” and I felt better.

Back to the play by play, at mile 21 I do a quick calculation and I’m surprised to learn that there’s still a chance I can beat my best marathon time, but it’s too soon to say for sure.  They say that a marathon isn’t half over until mile 20–the last six miles take as much effort as the first 20.  With five miles left the fabled “wall” could be just around the corner.  At mile 22 I do another quick calculation and we’re still on target.  I tell Stephen that a PR is within reach if we can keep it to about 9:45/mile, and he thinks we should go for it.  He is, at this point, well on his way to is own PR, by 20 minutes!

Finally we come up out of the park onto the street, maybe a third of a mile from the finish.  I still have to push to ensure a PR and I speed up a little.  I’m praying that Stephen doesn’t have a big sprint left in his legs because I am pretty much at my max.  I see the 26 mile marker and get choked up.  I can’t believe that 10 miles ago I was doubting that I’d finish at all, and now I’m within seconds of a PR.  No time for tears though because I need to breathe, focus on the remaining .2 miles if I’m going to get a PR.  I let the emotion pass and speed up a teeny bit more as we enter historic Hayward Field for the final 200m.  As we approach the finish I hear the announcer say “…and here comes Krista Reymann and Stephen Spencer!!!”  We cross the finish line, stop our watches, and I’m ecstatic.  Mine says 4:06–I’ve achieved my PR by less than a minute.

I AM A RUNNER!!!  I own that title now, I deserve it.  I come out of this race experience with a different kind of confidence and renewed enthusiasm for my next training cycle.  I have a couple of half marathons this summer, but half marathons are easy.  My next marathon is 10-10-10, and I expect to excel.

Treadmill or Dreadmill?

It’s been cold and rainy of late, far more often than I’d like, thus I have been relegated to doing my training runs on the dreadmill.  It’s quite possible that racking up mileage on the treadmill has contributed to the pain and tightness  I’m experiencing in my leg right now.  I have never liked running on the treadmill, in part because I find it mind-numbing (on par with driving across Nevada or Wyoming), in part because the things I like about running (being outside, actually getting somewhere, and the joy in the feeling of propelling myself forward) aren’t present, and in part because I have long suspected that my body doesn’t like it.

I did a little research on the advantages/disadvantages of treadmill running.  One coach made an important distinction between “fitness” runners, whose primary goal is health and weight loss, and competitive runners.  He thinks, and I tend to agree, that for fitness running (which I’d define as not more than 5 miles at a time, and not more than ~20 miles per week) a treadmill is fine.  It’s convenient and safe, and it does the job of improving cardiovascular fitness.

But for competitive runners there are other variables to consider, convenience aside.

Surface: while the belt of a treadmill is more forgiving, it doesn’t mimic road conditions.  If you were to train only on a treadmill your feet/knees/legs/hips will be in for a big surprise when they met asphalt and concrete.

Body mechanics: most people stride differently on a treadmill.  Not only the length of your stride is affected, but the flow of the belt doesn’t really allow your feet to correct for anatomical imperfections.  For example, I am “crossed” (aka knock-kneed).  If my knees are straight, my feet point outward slightly.  If my feet are straight, my thighs rotate inward, and if I bend my legs my knees knock.  The belt doesn’t allow for much, if any, adjustment (and this could be the source of my problem).  This confinement of movement can lead to repetitive stress injuries.  Your “lean” is also affected (as in you don’t lean on a treadmill, which reduces forward momentum), and in general you tend to run less efficiently.

Stats: the pace/mileage you get on the treadmill don’t reflect reality.  A nine-minute mile is easier on a treadmill than it is outside.  Running in general is easier than it is outside.

Pacing: you don’t learn to control your own pace.  If you’re competing this is an essential skill and it needs to be practiced.  You could rely on a pacer to get you through a race, but they tend to run at an even pace for the whole race, and that’s not a good idea for a host of reasons such as it doesn’t account for hills, nor does it give you any kind of warm-up.  If you don’t warm up you will burn a disproportionate amount of energy at the start and wind up in a deficit later in the race.

Outdoor conditions: learning how your mind and body respond to temperature, wind, rain, and learning how to overcome these issues, physically and mentally, is key to a successful race.  Something like 60% of your races will be in less than ideal conditions, so you need to train in less than ideal conditions.

The main advantage to training on a treadmill is convenience.  But between the disadvantages above and my muscle issues, I personally am going to play the convenience card only once in a great while.

Better Safe Than Sorry

Last Tuesday morning I was walking through the Denver airport when I noticed a curious new pain in my right calf, right where it meets the Achilles.  The pain was very specific, very localized, very concerning.  I hadn’t done anything that I could recall to cause the injury.  I hadn’t run on Monday.  Saturday I had a good 10-mile run, Sunday I had a good 25-mile bike ride, Monday was a rest day.  I should have been fine.

Eventually I put the pain out of my mind.  Tuesday was a long day.  Wednesday I ran again, doing six miles on the treadmill.  Wednesday night I went climbing at Planet Granite.  Thursday I went for eight, again on the treadmill, but had to stop at three because not only did my calf hurt, but my ankle and my hamstring were in agony.  I reeeally did not want to stop.  I’m a little behind on my mileage these past two weeks and with the marathon only two weeks away, I want to make all my runs count.  But the pain was pretty intense and I was so worried about injuring myself further, to the point of not being able to run the marathon, that I did stop.  Resting and treating the injury was going to do far more for my Eugene experience than running another five miles would have.  But I was still freaked out.

Luckily for me, the massage therapist works at my campus on Thursdays, and she had an opening late that afternoon.  She helped me determine that my problem probably wasn’t a specific injury but overly tight muscles, and then she massaged the living daylights out of me trying to get my locked-up leg muscles to relax.  It helped.  Friday I went out for a short 1.7 mile jog just to see how things felt.  The pain, though lessened, was still present and I was nervous enough to delay Saturday’s long run until Sunday.  Saturday I went to yoga for further stretching, and by Saturday afternoon I was feeling pretty good, which means I wasn’t feeling any pain during normal movement.

Today was the real test, as it’s my last long run before the race.  I decided on two 8-9 mile loops so that I could bail at any time if things went badly.  I started out slowly and let my legs loosen up, gradually (and thankfully) working out the kinks.  After a few miles I knew I was good for the long haul.  It was a real confidence booster!  I did 18 miles with little to no pain.  Lots of tightness, but nothing hurt.

Lessons learned:  Taking pain seriously is a Good Thing.  Rest is as important as training.  I definitely need to pay special attention to stretching in these next two weeks.  I don’t think the treadmill is good for me–I wonder how many times I’ll have to learn this lesson?  Honestly, I don’t think the treadmill is good for anyone, really, because it constrains your gait and can cause repetitive stress injuries.  I was just browsing an article on the benefits of running on a treadmill and it made me laugh.  I actually think some of the so-called benefits are good reasons *not* to run on the treadmill.  Guess I know what my next post is about. 

Too much too soon?

Last weekend I dragged a friend on a 14 mile run with me.  Well, “drag” isn’t exactly accurate.  She was totally up for it, but I was nervous.  She has been running 5 miles a day fairly consistently for awhile and twice we’ve run 7 miles together.  But 14?  That, in the running world, is way too big an increase.  Afterward I tried to explain why to her (“overuse” injury), but I did a poor job.  It didn’t help my point that she did a great job on the run.  She was damned tired at 12, but she so killed the full 14 miles it was hard to explain to her why it wasn’t a good idea.  So why not?  What are the consequences?

According to FamilyDoctor.com, running-related overuse injuries most often occur because of a training error (running too far, too fast, too soon).   Getting a little more technical (paraphrasing from from eMedicine/WebMD): overuse injuries, otherwise known as cumulative trauma disorders, are described as tissue damage that results from repetitive demand.  It is generally accepted that tissues adapt to the stresses placed on them over time.  An overuse injury occurs when the rate of injury exceeds the rate of adaptation and healing in the tissue.

Let me say that again: an overuse injury occurs when the rate of injury exceeds the rate of adaptation and healing.

The consequences of letting my friend run 14 miles could have been extreme.  It’s possible that she might have been temporarily hobbled by the experience while her legs recovered, and she would have had to back way off her mileage after she healed and slowly build it back up.  The good news is she wasn’t hobbled, she was hardly sore, but that doesn’t mean that damage wasn’t done.  The negative impact may not be evident for some time.  She might have weakened her muscles such that repeated efforts, even easy one, would only continue to wear the muscle down until it fails in one way or another.

Prevention of overuse injuries is possible.  Cross-training (see “Mix It Up” from earlier this week) is one way to avoid repetitive stress, but incremental increases in effort is really the key to preventing overuse.  Ten percent is the generally accepted rule of thumb (i.e. do not increase your weekly mileage by more than 10%).

It can be really hard to hold yourself back when you think (know) you’re capable of more.  But you do not want to set yourself up for a lifetime of chronic injuries that ultimately will be more frustrating and/or debilitating than the temporary frustration of starting out easy and working up gradually to the bigger distances.  Nor do you want to sideline yourself for months and months at a time dealing with something acute, like a stress fracture, an IT band that’s too painful to run, or a torn calf muscle.  So take your time, be patient, and stay injury-free.  In the long run (pun intended), it’ll be so worth it.

Mix it up

This weekend I did a long bike ride (35 miles) with some friends.  It was my second ride of the season and, I hope, going to become a regular Sunday activity (Saturdays being reserved for long runs).  Cycling is excellent cross-training for runners because it uses different leg muscles than running, which makes your legs stronger overall, and it’s non-impact, which saves your feet, knees, hips while still giving you a great cardio workout.

One of my friends on the ride is just getting into endurance riding and we talked at length about how to train so that your system doesn’t over-adapt to your routine.  What happens when you practice any one form of exercise, even if you’re varying your distance, is that your system becomes really efficient at burning calories, so it takes less energy to fuel your workouts.  Good, right?  Yes.  And no.

As you become more efficient you need less energy to produce the same results.  That means you don’t need to eat as much.  It also means that your system has adapted to your routine.  It’s settled in, it’s comfortable.  You’re not going to notice any major improvements in speed or strength if your system gets comfortable.

So how do you mix it up?  Within your sport there are a few things your can do.  For example, with running we do long slow runs, goal-pace runs where a portion of the distance is run at race pace, short fast intervals, hill workouts.  Each of these workouts targets a different aspect of strength and/or speed, while simultaneously improving your physiological make-up, from training your system to use fuel more efficiently to increasing its ability to buffer lactic acid.  All of this results ultimately in faster race times, and works to prevent injury.  The same types of workouts can be done in cycling, swimming (except for the hill workouts), and even walking.

The other way to mix it up is to cross-train, for all the reasons I mentioned above.  It compliments your workout, enhances your training, and provides a form of “rest” from your main sport.  It’s called “active recovery” and all the research points toward it being more effective for complete recovery than total rest.  I will admit, however, that my bike ride on Sunday didn’t quite fit the bill.  I rode as hard as I run, and active recovery is supposed to be done at lower intensities, so I took today off from running.

Tomorrow I’m going out with my running group at work for a hill repeat workout.  I don’t particularly enjoy these.  We power up a hill for a quarter mile, then down the other side in a slow jog for a quarter mile.  We’re going to try for at least eight laps of this.  I’d much rather head out on the flats for an evenly-paced 10 mile run, but I’m already good at that.  If I’m going to achieve my goal of running the Boston Marathon next year I need to mix it up and keep my system from becoming complacent because I’m not quite where I need to be.

Pacing yourself is more important than pace

About a week ago a friend of mine ran his second marathon.  His half marathon times have been very good (1:52-ish both times) so he was hoping to run the marathon in four hours, which was not outside the realm of possibility.  He started out running his half marathon pace, averaging 8.5-minute miles for the first two hours, which put him at the half at exactly the time he wanted.  But then something happened.  His average for the next two hours was 12-minute miles.  He was very disappointed with his final time: it was 4:24.

So what happened?   He ran too fast in the first half and fatigued himself mightily.  The average pace for a 4 hour marathon is 9.1- minute miles.  He did not need to be running 8.5-minute miles at all in the marathon.  In fact, when you start out too fast you burn a disproportionate amount of energy for the effort.  Giving yourself time to warm up is critical for stabilizing your system.

Case in point.  This morning my group went out for a longer-than-usual run.  The group typically does five miles together, and they like to average 10-minute miles.  Today we were doing seven miles, and to make sure that nobody burned out I held us to an 11-minute pace for the first two miles.  After that I paid less attention to our pace because we were warmed up.  We still kept it easy, but in looking at the splits later, we ran a perfect run.  Each mile was slightly faster than the last, which is exactly how you want to run.  Our fastest mile was 9:39.  We finished seven miles in 73 minutes, only off our usual pace by seconds per mile, no one was exhausted, and our least experienced distance runner, who’s only run seven miles once before, felt great when she finished.

Back to the marathon, it’s better to start off a minute slow, give yourself time to warm up, and then run only slightly faster than goal pace to make up the deficit and then build a small cushion for later, so that you can gradually slow back down to goal pace (or even slower) near the end when you’re *really* tired.  Because a marathon is so long you have enough time to do this in small increments, without any heroic measures.  My pace chart for my upcoming marathon, for which I also have a four hour goal, does not have me running faster than 8:49 in any mile, and then only two miles at that pace.  For half the race I’m running at 8:59, I get to spend 8 miles running slower than my average goal pace of 9:09, and five miles right at my goal pace of 9:09.

On top of his excessive speed early in the race, I suspect that my marathon friend did not eat well enough or often enough during the race, but I don’t have the details from him on how much or when he ate.  I’ll have to get back to you on that count.

While we’re on the topic of massive endurance efforts, I’d like to give my friend Lianne a shout out.  She’s running her first ever **100 mile race** (aka a 100-mile ultra-marathon) over the weekend.  Please send up some good thoughts for her, she’s going to be on her feet for 30 hours.  Go Lianne!

The most beautiful race…

The Canyonlands Half Marathon is the most beautiful race I’ve ever run.  The course winds through a red rock canyon alongside the Colorado River for 11 miles before arriving in the town of Moab, UT, where the final two miles take us across town to Swanny City Park.

My friends and I were lucky enough to stay at the Red Cliffs Lodge, which was up in the canyon four miles beyond the start of race.  The lodge provided transportation to the start of the race so we didn’t have to drive into town and shuttle back to the start, and they also picked us up after the race.  Because of how cold it is in the high desert in the mornings, the race didn’t begin until 10a.  It was so nice to be able to sleep in until 7:30a, eat breakfast, and arrive at the race about 45 minutes before the start.

Katie, Melissa, Brittany and I split up before the start so we could line up in our respective pace corrals.  Despite my concerns about being able to run my normal pace at altitude (the race is at ~4100′), I optimistically inserted myself into the 9:00 minute/mile pace group and reviewed my strategy: start slow, take the time to warm up appropriately before settling into race pace.  It’s always so hard to keep the adrenaline at bay, to let people who don’t know better fly past me, and, in the case of Canyonlands, to determine what the proper warm-up pace is when you start at the top of a substantial hill.  I always wish I could run a mile before the race so that I’m already warmed up, but you rarely get that chance and, in a marathon, you probably don’t want to expend that kind of energy before the start.  So, other than a short jog to loosen up, warming-up in progress has to be part of your race strategy.

There’s always a lot of chatter in my head at the beginning of a race.  I’m reminding myself to take it easy, I’m overcoming the protestations of my body while it gets used to the idea that we’re going to be running hard for a couple of hours, or four, and I’m battling my demons: you live at sea level now, every step of this race is going to be hard, you’ve ruined your training by living at sea level, you’re never going to reach your time goal(s).  Ah yes, the demons, my constant friends these days.  They didn’t exist (much) before I started working in California.  Now as I try to embrace the adventure while longing to be back in Denver, they rear their ugly heads and speak loudly and clearly when I’m feeling most vulnerable.

Everyone has their own version of these demons.  The best thing I can tell you about them is that they are FEAR-based.  False Evidence Appearing Real = FEAR.  It comes from the Ego, whose sole job is to make sure it stays in business, and what better way then to keep you churning and doubting and obsessing.  Believe me, I know it’s not easy, but the only way to get past that is to tell the fear to go away, to focus on the good in the moment–to live in the moment–to give it all you’ve got.  That’s all you can do.  You can’t regret anything if you’ve given it all you’ve got, even if it doesn’t work out the way you wanted.

So, back to the race.  By the time I finished mile three my body had finally settled into a groove.  The scenery was amazingly beautiful and peaceful.  Red rock cliffs on my immediate left, the Colorado River on my right with more red rock the other side of that.  The sky was cloudless, an intense blue, the temperature just about perfect.  The only road–the one we were on–was closed to traffic and there was no sound but that of running feet.  I breathed it all in, and to keep my head quiet, I prayed.  I think I’ve mentioned once before that the Hopi Indians consider running a form of prayer.  They offer up their run in honor of a loved one and ask for Divine help in completing the journey.  So that’s what I did.  I offered up my intention and prayed for probably 8-9 miles.  It’s easier for me to whisper the rote prayers of my childhood, using them like a mantra, than to pray extemporaneously.  It keeps me focused, whereas if I pray without a script my mind tends to wander and sometimes that infernal ego works its way back into my thoughts.

I’d decided early on not to look at my time because it was too soon to project my finish, and I was pretty sure that I wasn’t going to be able to match my Pasadena PR because of the altitude.  The way to run the best race possible was to run to my heart rate, running just fast enough to keep my heart rate at my lactate threshold.  This is the point at which your system can, for the most part, keep up with lactic acid production and prevent you from fatiguing too early.

It worked.  My pacing was fairly consistent for the entire race.  I slowed a teeny bit in miles 11-12 because they were a gradual uphill.  Somewhere in mile 11 I started to pick up the pace, and kicked the last quarter mile in at an 8:00 minute mile. , but started to pick up the pace, and by 12.25 miles I running way beyond my lactate threshold.  The goal, in that last mile, is to take all the energy I have left and sprint to the end, leaving nothing on the course when I’m through.   I was breathing so hard upon crossing the finish line that it took a couple of minutes before I was able to drink the cup of water they handed me at the finish.

And then I looked at my watch.  The last time I’d checked it was with about a mile left, only I’d miscalculated and thought I was a mile and a half away.  Believing I was way out of reach because of my miscalculation, I vowed not to look at the watch anymore, and to just finish as fast I was able and be proud of my accomplishment.  Even with my error in calculation I was ahead of the sea level->altitude algorithm.  So imagine my surprise when I checked my final time and saw  2:02:28!  Only 48 seconds slower than my PR (personal record) in Pasadena four weeks ago, and at altitude!!!  WOW!  That was an awesome run.  And an awesome weekend altogether.  It’s going to have to become an annual tradition.

Racing, Old School Style

Hello from Denver!!!  Thanks to a big move taking place at work today and tomorrow I get to work from home, and since I had to fly to CO this weekend for a race, I changed my flight to arrive last night to take advantage of not having to go into the office today and tomorrow.  I’m thrilled to be working from my living room!

I realized last night as I was falling asleep that I’d forgotten to transfer my GPS watch/heart-rate monitor from my gym bag to my suitcase after running yesterday morning.  That made me panic. I’ve got a half marathon on Saturday and won’t be able to track my stats while I run, which, if you read about my experience at the Pasadena Half Marathon, you know can be very disconcerting.  I could use my iPhone, and an app called TrailGuru, but it’s hard to carry a phone in your hands the entire run, and I can’t operate it wearing gloves–the touchscreen doesn’t respond.

After reviewing my options–run without technology, hand-carry the iPhone, take a cab to REI or Target to replace my watch–I decided it would be most interesting to go old school and run without technology.  I have no idea what to expect in Moab anyway, so maybe I should just experiment and run at a level that feels good (hard, but not red-lining).  I get to acclimate in Denver for just under 48 hours (which isn’t enough, but it helps).  Moab is at 4000 feet, so the air is better but it’s nowhere close to sea level.

And now, as I’m typing this, I have a flash of insight.  There was a small bag of things I needed to transfer from my gym bag to my suitcase.  I’ll bet my watch is in there.  I jumped up, checked that bag, and sure enough, I have my GPS watch and heart-rate monitor.  I guess I’ll wear my technology after all…

Hill Repeats – Success!

This morning was the first weekly installment of interval workouts with my running group at work and I’m happy to report it was a success.  We’re starting with strength-oriented interval training and will move eventually to speed-oriented interval training after a few weeks.  Strength-building intervals include hill repeats, stairs, and fartleks (fartlek is Swedish for “speed play” and refers to intervals of speed built into a training run [e.g. alternating running race-pace for two minutes with running a training pace for two minutes]).

We’ve got a great loop right next to work.  It’s a 4% grade (if I did the math right) but it’s an even loop of .25 mile up and .25 mile back down.  We warmed up for 1.5 miles, throwing in two sets each of high knees, butt-kickers, and left and right cross-overs (aka grapevines), finishing with one set of walking lunges, just like I used to do with my club in Denver. I’d thought that I would attempt eight laps, but told the group we’d aim for six laps, and I wanted to quit at four laps.  We all managed all six laps, and we were all thoroughly spent by the end (total mileage including warmup/cooldown = 5.5).  I call that a good morning.

One fun note: we had a new guy join us today.  Before we got started I told the group what the plan was, gave some pointers, and we headed out.  As we warmed up I asked the new guy about his current running history.  He’s never run more than 2-3 miles.  I suggested he may want to do only four laps.  He hung in for all six of them, and was happy to learn that  he was capable of running five miles.  He said that he never joined us on our 5-mile training runs because he thought he couldn’t run that far.  I think he’s going to become a regular. 

Glorious Weekend!

Finally, a weekend in CA with glorious weather (after a very grey/rainy week).  Saturday’s run was a little shorter than I’d intended, but hillier than I’d been planning on.  I got a little turned around in Rancho and didn’t wind up on the trail I was expecting, but the sun was shining, the temps were perfect, and it was (other than the really big hill) one of those runs where I felt like a gazelle, not a lumbering elephant.  Toward the end I came upon a guy who was running in the Vibram Five Finger “Barefoot” shoes and got to spend some time asking him about his experience with them.  He’d been training in them for four months and had just run a marathon in them!!  I’m really intrigued by the concept of barefoot running, and I may just have to try it out after the marathon in May.

Riding the Moab Century, Sept 2009

Today I cross-trained, doing my first bike ride in five months–30 miles through Los Altos, Stanford, and Portola Valley.  It was incredibly beautiful out there in the hills! I was pretty tuckered at the end but very happy to have finally gotten out on a bike and will plan on doing a ride (almost) every Sunday.  It will definitely contribute in a positive way to my running.

Cycling is an excellent cross-training activity for runners.  Cross-training helps prevent injury by giving your body a break from its regular activity while still allowing you to work out (loosely quoting Tim Houts).  Today would have been a rest day for me, but not because I need rest as much as I need to make sure I’m not overusing my running muscles/joints.  Cycling strengthens my legs in ways that running doesn’t while providing a great aerobic workout and the means to get out and enjoy the sunshine.