Filed under: Inspiration, cross-training | Tags: days off, Inspiration, running, short run, swimming
My aunt is probably the best swimmer I know. I may be training for a marathon, but my aunt has been getting up at 3 AM practically everyday for the majority of her adult life so she can swim five miles – I think that’s what my uncle said, five miles – before work. This isn’t something to sneeze at, folks, as I found out today.
I’ve always been a very strong swimmer, myself, but it’s been years since I’ve purposely gone to a pool and done laps. Let me tell you: I cross-train on the stationary bike at a steady 80-100 RPM for a full forty-five minutes at least 3 days a week, and that first half-lap in the pool schooled me! I began to get the hang of it after a while, alternating freestyle with breast stroke and backstroke for about a half an hour. The better my form in the pool, the easier it was to get through it.
I may not have run today, but I feel really good. I’m going to try to swim as often as possible between now and the race. I have a VERY short run tomorrow – just three miles – and I might jump in the pool after finishing, if I have the time. I’m quite excited about this new development. I just hope I don’t develop huge shoulders!
Filed under: Rest Days | Tags: apparel, days off, good advice, injuries, long run, nerves, Rest Days, running, winter
URD stands for Unscheduled Rest Day, which is what today is. While most of the aches and pains from the 17-miler quickly dissipated, my heel flared up in a fury and did not cease hurting until today. I took it easy this week, though I did do the scheduled track intervals on Wednesday. I cross-trained hard on Tuesday and Friday, did an easy 6.5-miler on the treadmill on Thursday, and took yesterday as my scheduled rest day. This morning, my heel felt blessedly fine, and it still feels fine even after a full work day. The plan was to run for about two and a half hours tonight, not watching the miles, just getting in the time at an easy pace. It was Mandy’s suggestion, and I think it was a good one.
I actually feel really good about taking off today, though. I’ve been pushing myself extremely hard, and to be honest, I’ve been quite frightened this week that I overdid it already. Today is the first day I’ve felt good and rested in quite a while, so I’m going to take advantage of that, catch up on a few chores, and wake up fresh tomorrow.
I also bit the bullet and bought a running jacket. With the weather in the single digits, even two base layers and a pullover aren’t cutting it. It kinda hurt my wallet, but at least I’ll have no excuse to press the snooze button tomorrow morning.
Filed under: Longest Run Ever, Training Runs | Tags: healing, injuries, off day, running, running routes, shoes, struggle, winter
Yesterday I ran seventeen miles, give or take. I think it might have been a bit too long – though it is also possible I ran more than seventeen miles, because I got a little lost, and my phone, on which I had installed a temporary GPS device, died at mile fourteen.
Sorry for the run-on sentence (hee). I feel quite accomplished that I even finished the seventeen-miler, and I’ve been told I shouldn’t be upset about a bad run, especially since, you know, most people DRIVE that distance to get where they need to go, and complain about the commute time.
The thing is…it hurt, and not a healthy, worn-out way. When I stopped running, my ankles, feet, toes, and knees were throbbing. Admittedly, this week had some variables – most of them my fault – that I hadn’t dealt with since starting my running plan: I didn’t cross-train the day before the run, it was twelve degrees outside, iced tea is NOT proper hydration, my shoes are due for a replacement, I worked six days last week, I finished the route by estimating the time it would take to run three miles on my watch, my paces were WAY out of wack, etcetera…I know, get the violins out for a weep.
Variables or not, though, I’m not risking actual injury by running next weekend’s twenty-miler. At the most, I’ll repeat this week and try to accomplish higher-quality runs. All too clearly do I remember the achilles injury that cost me six months of running in graduate school. Much as I wanted to, I wasn’t ready to run those 6.5 miles after three weeks of training, and I’m similarly not ready to run twenty miles right now.
I’m feeling much better today, though that blasted tendon still aches just a tad. Here’s to an easy week and a quick recovery.
Filed under: Dealing | Tags: cross-training, fight, healing, marathon, memories, races, running, sadness, struggle
My knees don’t hurt. My heel doesn’t hurt. I’m not tired. I wasn’t even tired yesterday, though I took a rest day from exercising. It appears that I recovered from the 15-miler quite quickly, to my utmost relief and surprise! Week 13 in the countdown starts today. I went to the Y and did my normal cross-training routine: 45 minutes on the stationary bike, making sure to keep myself between 80 and 100 RPM; twenty minutes of core exercises (crunches, leg lifts, push-ups, planks, etcetera); and lots of stretching.
I thought I would hate cross-training, but it’s becoming quite enjoyable. Now that I’m not running with the Team, there are few people who I can train with who match my mileage and pace (I go too slow and/or too long, it seems, for most of my friends). Training has been a solitary venture. I like going to the gym simply because there are other people around. It’s a break from the same scenery which, I have to admit, is getting a bit drab. I’m a social person, and since the break-up, I’ve found myself wanting to be around people more often.
Once in a while, I’ve found myself wondering what I will do after the marathon is over. It’s less than four months away. It’s been nearly half a year since my life was turned inside-out. I wonder if I will truly be healed when I cross that finish line. That was always the plan, wasn’t it? I wasn’t just running to run – this was a timeline, a path that I could follow through the darkness and into the sun.
But sometimes the darkness is still dark, as if I run through a deep canyon, the sky only a crack of light far above my pumping legs.
Filed under: Longest Run Ever | Tags: beginners, fight, FIRST plan, half marathon, long run, marathon, races, running, running routes, struggle, Team
Today I ran fifteen miles.
This is very significant. It’s the longest run I’ve ever done. It also really hit home that I am training for a marathon. A MARATHON. It’s interesting, when you think about it. Running is becoming increasingly popular. Thousands of people run races, and many of them run marathons. You should have seen the number of people at Disney. It was as if the population of a small city was running down the road, decked out in thermal tights, hats, jackets, and that look that I’m finding is unique to the serious runner: something in the lines of the face, in the sinew of the calves, some strange determination in the eyes – and something else. A stubbornness, a doggedness. Maybe even a degree of mild insanity.
Fifteen miles is a little more than half of a full marathon. Supposedly, I will be able to run the twenty-six-point-two miles necessary to cross the finish line in thirteen weeks. My college girlfriends have bought plane tickets to see me. I have a hotel room booked in Cincinnati. Fifteen miles, according to the plan, will be peanuts in May.
Today, fifteen miles was really, really hard.
I mapped out a there-and-back route to downtown Wellesley. I prepared the way one would prepare for a race: ate pasta the night before, laid out my clothes, drank a lot of water, slept as long as I could. I filled a small water bottle with Gatorade, set my watch to zero, put my Craft hat on my head, took a deep breath, and went out the door.
There were a couple of long, steady hills, the worst of them at the end of mile 14, but nothing backbreaking. I kept my pace slow, about 11:23 minutes per mile. I stopped only for traffic lights, and there weren’t even too many of those.
The thing that surprised me, really, was just how long I had to run. Even with the Gatorade, I realized that I was getting profoundly fatigued. It was at mile 12 that I began to long for it to just be over, which I suppose makes sense, as my body has only trained to run 13.1 miles. It wasn’t pain, it wasn’t breathing, it was just…weariness. I was tired. I was thirsty. I wanted to lie down and take a nap, drink a gallon of chocolate milk, sit on a chair. Time seemed to be slowing down each time I looked at my watch. But still my feet went on, my forefoot striking the pavement, my calf flexing, my knee lifting, circling, again, again, again.
When I reached the top of the final hill and began the descent home, I felt vaguely like crying – not because I was emotional, but because crying seemed like it would be a soothing, relaxing thing to do. I didn’t cry, though, because there was the corner of my street in front of me. And look: there’s that old Asian man who collects bottles and cans every Sunday when the recycling is put out! There he is with his shopping cart full of junk! Smiling, miming my jogging, clapping! Holy crap, I have a fan at the finish line! I hit the lap button on my watch and slow to a walk, and he shakes my hand.
I go into the house, drag myself up the stairs. Chug two glasses of chocolate milk, oh sweet chocolate milk! Turn on the shower until it’s barely warm, get undressed, step in, turn the faucet slowly until the water is cold, cold as ice. No one is home so I shriek madly, letting the frigid water run over my muscles for as long as I can stand it. I get dressed, stretch, take a ten minute nap. Get back in the shower, this time to wash my hair. I let it get hot. Revel in the steam. Dry off, get dressed again.
Next week I am scheduled for the usual: a short tempo, a long tempo, and a long run. The long run is supposed to be seventeen miles. I am worried I won’t be able to do it. This is hard. This is really hard, folks.
I do remember one thing, though. I was training for my very first big race, a half marathon in my old city. I was running with the Team. We were going nine miles on a hot July day. I had never run nine miles before, and I was struggling. One of my friends on the Team ran with me for the last three or so miles. I had to stop to walk a couple of times, and I couldn’t seem to get control of the respiratory element of the run. I was hot and I felt like throwing up. It was awful.
After that, though, everything got easier. It was like 9 miles was some sort of wall that I had to break through. Ten miles was easy, eleven miles was easy. The race was difficult, but nothing like that 9 miler. I’ll never forget that run.
I have twenty-six-point-two miles to go. I’m not giving up now.
