Ah, the rest week. Although up until today, aside from the day off on Tuesday, it hasn't necessarily felt like one. First, I am one of those people who is typically sore for several days after a race, so I've been dealing with that. Even a little 5K, my legs are sore. Tuesday's rest certainly helped that aspect, even though two days after the race is typically the worst for soreness, but Wednesday's activities didn't really help. My father asked me if I wanted to go skiing with him on Wednesday. I enjoy skiing, but I haven't been able to do it a whole lot the past few years because it gets in the way of training. The only way I will go is if I can manage to fit it in around the training, and of course if the conditions are worth it. Well, 33" of new snow over the past few days, predictions of no wind, clear skies and temperatures right around 30 told me that it was probably going to be worth the trouble.
So what did I need to do aside from skiing? I had to swim first. 4900 yards. If I were Michael Phelps I'd be able to knock that out in probably 50 minutes, but since I am me, I knew it would take about 90 minutes. Ski area opens at 9. Have to drive to my parents lake house which takes an hour, then to Cannon Mountain from there takes maybe 40 minutes. Gym opens at 5, although they do tend to let you in a tad before, so I was there when the doors opened and in the water at 5, 6-lane pool all to myself to get my workout done. The good thing is that the sense of urgency, knowing you have to get somewhere as early as possible tends to make you swim a bit faster than you otherwise might. I finished up the longest swim workout I've done in about 8 months by 6:30, had to skip my post-swim sauna, showered, dried off and was in the car on my way at about 6:45. Made it to the lake by 7:45 with just enough time to eat something and get in the car with my father and my aunt to head north to Franconia.
The day did not disappoint. It was as clear as I've ever seen it and there was no wind, which anyone who skis at Cannon will tell you is a rarity in and of itself. I wish I knew what mountains I was looking at off in the distance, but I was told we could see Jay Peak in Vermont. We skied for a good three hours and I only occasionally thought I might fall asleep on the chairlift, only to be reawakened on the way down. When I ski with Dad we almost never ski past noon, which is why I figured I'd be able to get through everything in one day. We packed up and got some lunch on the way home. At that point all I wanted to do was lie down and take a nap. But I still had some work to do. I set up my bike trainer and pedaled for an hour. Luckily just an hour, otherwise I might not have been able to stand it. Oddly, I didn't sweat much, which is weird because I honestly can lose like 3 pounds of sweat in an hour on the trainer, and that includes drinking water.
That was when I really, really wanted to lie down. But nope, not done yet. I put on some outdoor clothes and headed out for a little run. Luckily a mere 35 minutes, but honestly, if it was possible to fall asleep while running - Dean Karnazes claims he has, but I am skeptical - I probably would've. The first half mile was brutally slow and shuffling, and then the middle part felt a little better, and the last half mile reminded me that I had had a very long day. But hey, at 4:30pm, 12 hours after I had gotten up, I was finally finished. That's how I get through things a lot of the time, I just tell myself that by the end of the day, I'll be done and I can relax. I was thankful that at that house there is a seat in the shower and I might not have ever come out if I wasn't so hungry and tired. I somehow made it through dinner out with Dad and was extraordinarily happy to be in bed at about 7, even if I didn't go to sleep until 8. It was definitely one of those nights where I had no recollection of being awake at any point during the night.
After all of that, I had a whole lot less physical exertion on tap for yesterday, but that almost made it harder to get through. I did it anyway, and today and tomorrow involve a 1500-yard easy swim and a 30-minute easy bike ride. If that doesn't leave me recovered, then nothing will.
On a totally unrelated note, I have come across a fun web site: thisiswhyyourefat.com It is several pages of ridiculously indulgent food, most of which you can't believe that anyone really eats. The major theme seems to be that people love to wrap things in bacon. Given that I have never been a fan of bacon, I certainly don't find those particular items appealing. However, if someone put in front of me a peanut butter-covered brownie that has been battered in cookie dough and fried, I might just have to try a bite. Luckily, I can't imagine a circumstance in which I'd actually come across such a thing.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Proof of progress
I am hoping that later on in the season I can look back at this past weekend as the turning point in my triumphant return. Only time will tell. But for now, I can at least look at it as a step in the right direction and the first race that has surprised me in a good way in probably at least a year and a half. I might even dare to say that I had fun. Ok, I did have fun at one race this past September when I managed to win, but it was a tiny little local sprint with mostly first-timers, so you really can't take that one too seriously.
Winter made a little return at the end of last week thanks to some sneaky little snowstorms that gave us just enough to ruin riding outside again for a while. Saturday started out kind of nice because I did not have to spend nearly 6 hours going nowhere in the basement, but rather a mere hour and ten minutes in preparation for my race. Then came the best part: carbo-loading! Most of my favorite carbo-licious treats have been out of the rotation for the past three months in favor of trying to get rid of this pesky excess weight, but it was determined that due to the race and the long ride I'd be doing afterward, I could finally indulge in the non-Atkins-friendly goodness. (I am by no means on Atkins, by the way.) So after my ride I fired up the griddle, mixed up some batter and made myself some pancakes. I sliced up some bananas and added those in, which for me is the only way to go. My true specialty is chocolate chip banana pancakes, but there was no need to go overboard.
After my delicious breakfast I spent some time in front of the TV with a fire in the woodstove debating whether or not I'd rather fall back asleep or just get the drive down to the Cape over with. Unfortunately, when I know something needs to be done, I can never relax enough to sleep. So I packed up the car and headed south. Well, after I had a cinnamon raisin bagel around lunch time, another sorely missed treat.
The original plan had me riding my bike outside after the race with several of the QT2 teammates, but the weather had other plans. Instead, we would all ride our trainers together in the Snow's basement given that it was going to rain. Of course then it was determined that in New Hampshire it was going to snow, and given that every time it has snowed this winter there seems to be a 30-50-car pile-up on I-93, I knew I was probably going to have to finish the race and jump in the car and drive straight home, especially given the awesome handling of my not-so-winter-adequate Nissan Sentra in the snow. I'm luckly to get out of my own driveway with an inch or two on the ground, so you can imagine how my car would do on a long drive through the heavy snow they were predicting. Still, the weather forecast tends to change quick around here. I mean, just a few days earlier it was going to be partly cloudy and in the 30's on race day, so who knew? I decided to pack my bike and trainer anyway, and even clothes to ride outside. Of course, now I wish I hadn't bothered.
After a pretty painless ride down through Boston with minimal traffic and staring at the crystal clear sky and wondering why it wouldn't stick around for just another day, I made it to Hyannis in just over two hours. In spite of my New England upbringing, I have minimal experience on the Cape. I had been in September for a race that wound up being canceled during a hurricane, so instead spent the weekend with some friends playing mini-golf in the rain and knocking some pins down at what we determined is the oldest bowling alley in the United States. Or at the very least the one that has gone the longest without a little makeover. Before that I hadn't been down there since the summer before my senior year in college when I spent a few weeks with some friends shooting a movie and surfing. That is actually where I celebrated my 21st birthday. It wasn't too interesting though because I never cared about drinking, but my friends brought me out anyway, but since it was just a little early in the season almost nothing was open and I wound up ordering a mud slide at a chinese restaurant, taking one sip and letting someone else finish it. And before that I hadn't been to the Cape since my grandparents owned a house down there. I have a few vague memories of seeing their house, mistaking my Nana's pills for candy, and riding on the back of my Dad's banana yellow ten-speed in one of those baby seats. If you don't know me, you will learn that my memory is a little bit ridiculous.
So anyway, I went to the expo to pick up my number. I checked out a few of the expo things and they had some good shoe deals, but nobody ever seems to carry women's size 12 for my giant feet. And truly I am an 11.5, which nearly doesn't even exist. Oh well, I've learned to deal with it. So it was back in the car and another 30 minutes east to Orleans where I was staying. My friend Kevin offered up his parents house that we all stayed at in September for that race that never happened since nobody was going to be there, so I figured driving 30 minutes on race morning would be better than over two hours and I am happy with that decision. It was a little bit lonely there with nobody else, but also made it very relaxing. For some reason people seem to think it would be kind of spooky to stay alone in a house like that, but I don't see it that way at all. You wouldn't believe how quiet the Cape is in February. It was pretty nice, actually. For dinner I had a turkey sandwich. I could've had pasta, but that would've required cooking and dishes, and given the fact that one of my goals for the weekend was to leave the house as though I had never been there, I opted for the less-messy sandwich and its equally adequate carb/protein content.
I slept great, but I suspect even if I had been required to sleep in my car that might've been the case since I was just that tired. But the comfortable bed certainly helped the situation. The good thing about winter races is that they tend to start later in the day, so unlike a triathlon where you often have to actually be there long before a 7am start to set up your transition area or whatever, I just had to show up about an hour before a 10am start, which sure made things easier. If the race hadn't had 4000 competitors I wouldn't have even gotten there that early. I was able to sleep in until 6:30 and had plenty of time to erase all traces of my existence, drink plenty of water, eat my pre-race breakfast and use a private bathroom with running water long before arriving at the race site. Much better than leaving really early, driving two hours and trying to eat breakfast on the way.
I got myself dressed and tried to decide what I should wear, opting for shorts in case it rained because really your legs are no warmer if they are covered with sopping wet running tights, even if it did mean showing off my pasty-white legs. I made it to the race in about half an hour and found myself a nice parking space just a short walk from the convention center where the race started. I used to go to races by myself all the time, but in the past couple of years I almost always go with someone I know, but lately have been back to arriving alone, so I'm getting used to that again. But it didn't take me long to spot some of my teammates who I don't really know all that well yet, but at least I recognized them. This was after I waited in a very, very long line for the bathroom, but at least it wasn't an emergency and I knew I'd be quick. After more aimless sitting around I decided it was time to get out of my nice, warm clothes, stash my backpack and head out into the cold and get into another long line for a porta-potty. There were definitely not enough of those for a 4000-runner race. And of course I seemed to pick the worst possible line, because there was an individual line for each unit, and everyone in mine seemed to be in there for a while. I propose an express line for these races, #1 only. The clock was ticking and I figured I could run the race while having to pee, but why would I want to? I got in just in time and snuck into the front area of the start line, somewhere in the middle between the signs for 7 and 8-minute miles rather than getting into the back towards the 12+ in the sea of people that stretched on forever.
This was it, time to race. I was sort of indifferent. Lately I have had no idea what to expect from myself in these races. My body has been unreliable to say the least. I had been given my goal time, a 1:41. I thought that was going to be a serious stretch... or, maybe I actually thought it was completely impossible. In the past my half-marathon times are usually around 1:34, typically coming off some ridiculous bike ride the day before. My fastest was 1:32, but that was at the Mooseman half ironman, and although I have inquired and been informed that the course is certified, I have serious doubts that is the case. So you'd think I'd have no problem with a 1:41. Well, things change. The last half marathon I truly ran was a year ago at Hampton in which I ran a 1:40 after crashing and burning halfway through. I was incredibly disappointed. Little did I know how much worse it would get. It wasn't long after that race that I got injured. My first race back was the Big Lake half marathon. My sacroilliac joint still hurt, but I could finally run after 6 weeks off. I had been running for about 10 days with a "long run" of 6 miles. But I couldn't stand the thought of not running. I finished in 1:56 or 1:57 with my legs screaming at me because they weren't ready for that. I had been passed by hordes of people and wanted to cry at the end. Oh, but I bettered that one with a 2:17 "run" split at Mooseman in June where I melted in the heat. And the ultimate, my 2:50 at Timberman where I spent more time on the run course than the bike course and spent the last 6.55 miles walking slowly with my head pointed down in defeat, glad to be wearing my sunglasses to hide the embarrassing tears.
So yeah, a 1:41 seemed a little out of my reach as I set up on the start line. But I was just going to do the best I could. I saw my teammates lined up at the front and hoped that when they finished they wouldn't waste time waiting for me, and knew they'd do well. If nothing else at least I've got some people to inspire me. They counted us down and finally the race set off under overcast skies and temperatures in the low 40's.
Hey, after all of that, I finally got to the part where I'm running. There's probably not going to be anyone still reading, but here it is anyway. I was told to do the first mile in 7:33 and no faster, then settle in to 7:35-7:40 the rest of the way. For someone who just recently started running under 9:00/mile in training, I have no recollection of what a 7:33 mile feels like. I honestly didn't think I was capable of running a single 7:45 mile anymore, let alone 13 in a row. But I was more rested than I'd been in a very long time and I had some extra carbs in my system, so I just ran at a pace that felt comfortably hard. It was tight in the first mile or so since there were so many people, and I got to pass Dick and Rick Hoyt in the first mile. I checked my heart rate monitor and it said 55. Um, I don't think that's working quite right. Either that or I am really, really aerobically efficient. Or about to die. So I just continued running until I finally saw the little orange sign on the side of the road that marked mile 14. The marathon would be two loops, so just after that I passed mile 1 and checked my watch. 7:20. Well, I guess I can run sub-8-minute miles and not make my lungs explode in the process, but wow, that was much faster than I was supposed to go.
This is a common problem of mine. In my better days (you know, way back when I was like, 27 instead of 29) I would often start out half marathons at a 6:45 pace and even hold 7's for a while. It never got me any better than 7:10 average, so you can see what I'm up against. Maybe one day I'll learn. It just feels so good at the beginning. I didn't really know what to do. For a brief moment, I thought maybe I will just shatter my goals and be able to hold up the whole time, but that thought was fleeting. I just tried to settle in and find something that was comfortable, but not too slow, but not too hard. I hit mile 2 in 7:26. Hmmm... slightly better, but still too fast. What do I do now? At that point I just kind of hung in there and tried to do whatever I could do at the given moment and going back and forth between thinking I was going to crash and burn by mile 5 and thinking that maybe, just maybe I'd actually be able to hang on and have a good race.
The course was pretty flat, although it did have a few little hills to break things up. We ran a bit along the ocean and actually got a little boost from the wind early on. Anytime we passed a mile marker in the double digits representing the marathon second loop I was more and more grateful that I only had to run the loop once. I lost track of each individual mile split, but started doing the overall math and by mile 6 I think I was still holding a 7:30 pace overall, but my quads were starting to get mad at me. I haven't done any speedwork and I really don't remember how to run fast, and even though I wasn't running fast, to my legs it felt that way. Initially I actually felt strong running up the few inclines on the course, but those were becoming more and more difficult. I just wanted to hang on. The miles continued to tick by and I was more and more happy to get closer to the end. It was the first time I've felt like I was really running in a very, very long time. I got passed more and more often by people who are much better at managing their race paces from start to finish, but I hadn't yet completely collapsed, so I considered that a good sign.
Somewhere around mile 8 or so my legs were really starting to burn and I opted to walk through an aid station just enough to clear the lactic acid, get some water and be ready to go for it again. I hate walking in races, but it is a tactic I have unfortunately had to utilize lately just to get through them. The strategy seemed to pay off as I was able to get running again. One particular later mile I really lost some time, but I was determined to keep going. The wind seemed to turn into a headwind after about mile 10, which is sort of a mean thing to do, not to mention the general trend toward upward inclines, so subtle that you might not have even noticed had you not just raced for 10 miles. The miles certainly got slower and slower, but the further I went the more confident I was that I was not going to completely melt down. A check of the watch told me that my 1:41 goal was shot barring some major miracle, but I wasn't going to be too far off. I certainly wasn't going to be anywhere near two hours, which is probably what I would've expected for myself given my recent awesome running ability.
Mile 12. Almost home. I didn't feel too bad. At the outside I maybe had to run for 8 more minutes. Surely I could hold on for 8 more minutes. When I was about 10 miles in I figured most of my teammates were probably about to be finished, but last year I'd've thought that at mile 9, so at least I was improving. I turned a corner and heard someone say that we had half a mile to go. I actually found a little second wind and maybe even sped up a little... or at least felt like I did. I saw Tim and Cait Snow running towards me in the opposite direction on their cooldown run, both having just taken the overall win and they cheered me on which gave me a little boost. I actually smiled. I can't tell you the last time I smiled while running in a race. Lately it's just been trying to hide my embarrassment.
The finish line was cruelly set at the top of a little hill, but at that point, I didn't care. I crossed the line in 1:43. A year ago I would've thought that to be a disaster, but this time, I was thrilled. It's nowhere near a PR. It's nowhere near where I should be. But I ran hard, I felt better than I have in over a year and I actually did better than I thought I would. I haven't done better than I thought I would since I won Lake Placid. In fact, lately it has been taking my worst nightmare finish and actually making it worse. I ran a time that would embarrass most of my friends - slower in fact than their training pace, let alone race pace - but I was happy. It finally made me feel like I'm on the right track and that I actually might be able to get faster again. Like I said, I am hoping this was the turning point.
I headed inside and ran into my coach and had to confess my poor race management and that I had gone out too fast, but he seemed happy and had figured I'd go out too fast. I threw on a jacket and went out for a cooldown run, the first few steps of which were only slightly faster than walking, but once I loosened up I was ok. It started sprinkling at that point and I was glad to have finished before it started raining. Unfortunately I had to almost immediately get in the car and leave to beat the snowstorm that we were supposed to get north of the border, so I said goodbye and hit the road.
After driving through the rain and easily beating the snow, I had to unload the bike and trainer and ride for four hours. I've never done that before, and it wasn't much fun. I actually had a headache for about the last hour, but at 7:30 I was finally done. The snow had begun and I was glad to be home, but too tired to have dinner so instead I had a banana and went to sleep.
I was actually excited about training. I might just be able to surprise myself in a good way this year. The impending "blizzard" that had been talked up left us with about 1-2" so I had no trouble making it to the pool Monday morning, I just had a little trouble walking down the stairs to get there. Well-earned post-race soreness. And finally, after a 90-minute ride, day 14 on the bike, I could relax, for today is a total REST DAY. You know, by the end of the day on a rest day I get antsy, but in the morning, when I'm lying comfortably in my bed and I roll over to look at the clock before the sun comes up and know that I don't have to get up, I think it is better than Christmas. I mean, on Christmas I had to ride my trainer. It would get old fast, but once a month I will gladly take it.
So there you go. Finally a good race, a positive experience and something to show me that I'm headed in the right direction. And obviously I've gotten better at keeping things in perspective, because you can't magically run your old times when you're way fatter and more out of shape, but you can continue to move back towards the fitter, faster you. Now it doesn't seem quite so impossible.
Winter made a little return at the end of last week thanks to some sneaky little snowstorms that gave us just enough to ruin riding outside again for a while. Saturday started out kind of nice because I did not have to spend nearly 6 hours going nowhere in the basement, but rather a mere hour and ten minutes in preparation for my race. Then came the best part: carbo-loading! Most of my favorite carbo-licious treats have been out of the rotation for the past three months in favor of trying to get rid of this pesky excess weight, but it was determined that due to the race and the long ride I'd be doing afterward, I could finally indulge in the non-Atkins-friendly goodness. (I am by no means on Atkins, by the way.) So after my ride I fired up the griddle, mixed up some batter and made myself some pancakes. I sliced up some bananas and added those in, which for me is the only way to go. My true specialty is chocolate chip banana pancakes, but there was no need to go overboard.
After my delicious breakfast I spent some time in front of the TV with a fire in the woodstove debating whether or not I'd rather fall back asleep or just get the drive down to the Cape over with. Unfortunately, when I know something needs to be done, I can never relax enough to sleep. So I packed up the car and headed south. Well, after I had a cinnamon raisin bagel around lunch time, another sorely missed treat.
The original plan had me riding my bike outside after the race with several of the QT2 teammates, but the weather had other plans. Instead, we would all ride our trainers together in the Snow's basement given that it was going to rain. Of course then it was determined that in New Hampshire it was going to snow, and given that every time it has snowed this winter there seems to be a 30-50-car pile-up on I-93, I knew I was probably going to have to finish the race and jump in the car and drive straight home, especially given the awesome handling of my not-so-winter-adequate Nissan Sentra in the snow. I'm luckly to get out of my own driveway with an inch or two on the ground, so you can imagine how my car would do on a long drive through the heavy snow they were predicting. Still, the weather forecast tends to change quick around here. I mean, just a few days earlier it was going to be partly cloudy and in the 30's on race day, so who knew? I decided to pack my bike and trainer anyway, and even clothes to ride outside. Of course, now I wish I hadn't bothered.
After a pretty painless ride down through Boston with minimal traffic and staring at the crystal clear sky and wondering why it wouldn't stick around for just another day, I made it to Hyannis in just over two hours. In spite of my New England upbringing, I have minimal experience on the Cape. I had been in September for a race that wound up being canceled during a hurricane, so instead spent the weekend with some friends playing mini-golf in the rain and knocking some pins down at what we determined is the oldest bowling alley in the United States. Or at the very least the one that has gone the longest without a little makeover. Before that I hadn't been down there since the summer before my senior year in college when I spent a few weeks with some friends shooting a movie and surfing. That is actually where I celebrated my 21st birthday. It wasn't too interesting though because I never cared about drinking, but my friends brought me out anyway, but since it was just a little early in the season almost nothing was open and I wound up ordering a mud slide at a chinese restaurant, taking one sip and letting someone else finish it. And before that I hadn't been to the Cape since my grandparents owned a house down there. I have a few vague memories of seeing their house, mistaking my Nana's pills for candy, and riding on the back of my Dad's banana yellow ten-speed in one of those baby seats. If you don't know me, you will learn that my memory is a little bit ridiculous.
So anyway, I went to the expo to pick up my number. I checked out a few of the expo things and they had some good shoe deals, but nobody ever seems to carry women's size 12 for my giant feet. And truly I am an 11.5, which nearly doesn't even exist. Oh well, I've learned to deal with it. So it was back in the car and another 30 minutes east to Orleans where I was staying. My friend Kevin offered up his parents house that we all stayed at in September for that race that never happened since nobody was going to be there, so I figured driving 30 minutes on race morning would be better than over two hours and I am happy with that decision. It was a little bit lonely there with nobody else, but also made it very relaxing. For some reason people seem to think it would be kind of spooky to stay alone in a house like that, but I don't see it that way at all. You wouldn't believe how quiet the Cape is in February. It was pretty nice, actually. For dinner I had a turkey sandwich. I could've had pasta, but that would've required cooking and dishes, and given the fact that one of my goals for the weekend was to leave the house as though I had never been there, I opted for the less-messy sandwich and its equally adequate carb/protein content.
I slept great, but I suspect even if I had been required to sleep in my car that might've been the case since I was just that tired. But the comfortable bed certainly helped the situation. The good thing about winter races is that they tend to start later in the day, so unlike a triathlon where you often have to actually be there long before a 7am start to set up your transition area or whatever, I just had to show up about an hour before a 10am start, which sure made things easier. If the race hadn't had 4000 competitors I wouldn't have even gotten there that early. I was able to sleep in until 6:30 and had plenty of time to erase all traces of my existence, drink plenty of water, eat my pre-race breakfast and use a private bathroom with running water long before arriving at the race site. Much better than leaving really early, driving two hours and trying to eat breakfast on the way.
I got myself dressed and tried to decide what I should wear, opting for shorts in case it rained because really your legs are no warmer if they are covered with sopping wet running tights, even if it did mean showing off my pasty-white legs. I made it to the race in about half an hour and found myself a nice parking space just a short walk from the convention center where the race started. I used to go to races by myself all the time, but in the past couple of years I almost always go with someone I know, but lately have been back to arriving alone, so I'm getting used to that again. But it didn't take me long to spot some of my teammates who I don't really know all that well yet, but at least I recognized them. This was after I waited in a very, very long line for the bathroom, but at least it wasn't an emergency and I knew I'd be quick. After more aimless sitting around I decided it was time to get out of my nice, warm clothes, stash my backpack and head out into the cold and get into another long line for a porta-potty. There were definitely not enough of those for a 4000-runner race. And of course I seemed to pick the worst possible line, because there was an individual line for each unit, and everyone in mine seemed to be in there for a while. I propose an express line for these races, #1 only. The clock was ticking and I figured I could run the race while having to pee, but why would I want to? I got in just in time and snuck into the front area of the start line, somewhere in the middle between the signs for 7 and 8-minute miles rather than getting into the back towards the 12+ in the sea of people that stretched on forever.
This was it, time to race. I was sort of indifferent. Lately I have had no idea what to expect from myself in these races. My body has been unreliable to say the least. I had been given my goal time, a 1:41. I thought that was going to be a serious stretch... or, maybe I actually thought it was completely impossible. In the past my half-marathon times are usually around 1:34, typically coming off some ridiculous bike ride the day before. My fastest was 1:32, but that was at the Mooseman half ironman, and although I have inquired and been informed that the course is certified, I have serious doubts that is the case. So you'd think I'd have no problem with a 1:41. Well, things change. The last half marathon I truly ran was a year ago at Hampton in which I ran a 1:40 after crashing and burning halfway through. I was incredibly disappointed. Little did I know how much worse it would get. It wasn't long after that race that I got injured. My first race back was the Big Lake half marathon. My sacroilliac joint still hurt, but I could finally run after 6 weeks off. I had been running for about 10 days with a "long run" of 6 miles. But I couldn't stand the thought of not running. I finished in 1:56 or 1:57 with my legs screaming at me because they weren't ready for that. I had been passed by hordes of people and wanted to cry at the end. Oh, but I bettered that one with a 2:17 "run" split at Mooseman in June where I melted in the heat. And the ultimate, my 2:50 at Timberman where I spent more time on the run course than the bike course and spent the last 6.55 miles walking slowly with my head pointed down in defeat, glad to be wearing my sunglasses to hide the embarrassing tears.
So yeah, a 1:41 seemed a little out of my reach as I set up on the start line. But I was just going to do the best I could. I saw my teammates lined up at the front and hoped that when they finished they wouldn't waste time waiting for me, and knew they'd do well. If nothing else at least I've got some people to inspire me. They counted us down and finally the race set off under overcast skies and temperatures in the low 40's.
Hey, after all of that, I finally got to the part where I'm running. There's probably not going to be anyone still reading, but here it is anyway. I was told to do the first mile in 7:33 and no faster, then settle in to 7:35-7:40 the rest of the way. For someone who just recently started running under 9:00/mile in training, I have no recollection of what a 7:33 mile feels like. I honestly didn't think I was capable of running a single 7:45 mile anymore, let alone 13 in a row. But I was more rested than I'd been in a very long time and I had some extra carbs in my system, so I just ran at a pace that felt comfortably hard. It was tight in the first mile or so since there were so many people, and I got to pass Dick and Rick Hoyt in the first mile. I checked my heart rate monitor and it said 55. Um, I don't think that's working quite right. Either that or I am really, really aerobically efficient. Or about to die. So I just continued running until I finally saw the little orange sign on the side of the road that marked mile 14. The marathon would be two loops, so just after that I passed mile 1 and checked my watch. 7:20. Well, I guess I can run sub-8-minute miles and not make my lungs explode in the process, but wow, that was much faster than I was supposed to go.
This is a common problem of mine. In my better days (you know, way back when I was like, 27 instead of 29) I would often start out half marathons at a 6:45 pace and even hold 7's for a while. It never got me any better than 7:10 average, so you can see what I'm up against. Maybe one day I'll learn. It just feels so good at the beginning. I didn't really know what to do. For a brief moment, I thought maybe I will just shatter my goals and be able to hold up the whole time, but that thought was fleeting. I just tried to settle in and find something that was comfortable, but not too slow, but not too hard. I hit mile 2 in 7:26. Hmmm... slightly better, but still too fast. What do I do now? At that point I just kind of hung in there and tried to do whatever I could do at the given moment and going back and forth between thinking I was going to crash and burn by mile 5 and thinking that maybe, just maybe I'd actually be able to hang on and have a good race.
The course was pretty flat, although it did have a few little hills to break things up. We ran a bit along the ocean and actually got a little boost from the wind early on. Anytime we passed a mile marker in the double digits representing the marathon second loop I was more and more grateful that I only had to run the loop once. I lost track of each individual mile split, but started doing the overall math and by mile 6 I think I was still holding a 7:30 pace overall, but my quads were starting to get mad at me. I haven't done any speedwork and I really don't remember how to run fast, and even though I wasn't running fast, to my legs it felt that way. Initially I actually felt strong running up the few inclines on the course, but those were becoming more and more difficult. I just wanted to hang on. The miles continued to tick by and I was more and more happy to get closer to the end. It was the first time I've felt like I was really running in a very, very long time. I got passed more and more often by people who are much better at managing their race paces from start to finish, but I hadn't yet completely collapsed, so I considered that a good sign.
Somewhere around mile 8 or so my legs were really starting to burn and I opted to walk through an aid station just enough to clear the lactic acid, get some water and be ready to go for it again. I hate walking in races, but it is a tactic I have unfortunately had to utilize lately just to get through them. The strategy seemed to pay off as I was able to get running again. One particular later mile I really lost some time, but I was determined to keep going. The wind seemed to turn into a headwind after about mile 10, which is sort of a mean thing to do, not to mention the general trend toward upward inclines, so subtle that you might not have even noticed had you not just raced for 10 miles. The miles certainly got slower and slower, but the further I went the more confident I was that I was not going to completely melt down. A check of the watch told me that my 1:41 goal was shot barring some major miracle, but I wasn't going to be too far off. I certainly wasn't going to be anywhere near two hours, which is probably what I would've expected for myself given my recent awesome running ability.
Mile 12. Almost home. I didn't feel too bad. At the outside I maybe had to run for 8 more minutes. Surely I could hold on for 8 more minutes. When I was about 10 miles in I figured most of my teammates were probably about to be finished, but last year I'd've thought that at mile 9, so at least I was improving. I turned a corner and heard someone say that we had half a mile to go. I actually found a little second wind and maybe even sped up a little... or at least felt like I did. I saw Tim and Cait Snow running towards me in the opposite direction on their cooldown run, both having just taken the overall win and they cheered me on which gave me a little boost. I actually smiled. I can't tell you the last time I smiled while running in a race. Lately it's just been trying to hide my embarrassment.
The finish line was cruelly set at the top of a little hill, but at that point, I didn't care. I crossed the line in 1:43. A year ago I would've thought that to be a disaster, but this time, I was thrilled. It's nowhere near a PR. It's nowhere near where I should be. But I ran hard, I felt better than I have in over a year and I actually did better than I thought I would. I haven't done better than I thought I would since I won Lake Placid. In fact, lately it has been taking my worst nightmare finish and actually making it worse. I ran a time that would embarrass most of my friends - slower in fact than their training pace, let alone race pace - but I was happy. It finally made me feel like I'm on the right track and that I actually might be able to get faster again. Like I said, I am hoping this was the turning point.
I headed inside and ran into my coach and had to confess my poor race management and that I had gone out too fast, but he seemed happy and had figured I'd go out too fast. I threw on a jacket and went out for a cooldown run, the first few steps of which were only slightly faster than walking, but once I loosened up I was ok. It started sprinkling at that point and I was glad to have finished before it started raining. Unfortunately I had to almost immediately get in the car and leave to beat the snowstorm that we were supposed to get north of the border, so I said goodbye and hit the road.
After driving through the rain and easily beating the snow, I had to unload the bike and trainer and ride for four hours. I've never done that before, and it wasn't much fun. I actually had a headache for about the last hour, but at 7:30 I was finally done. The snow had begun and I was glad to be home, but too tired to have dinner so instead I had a banana and went to sleep.
I was actually excited about training. I might just be able to surprise myself in a good way this year. The impending "blizzard" that had been talked up left us with about 1-2" so I had no trouble making it to the pool Monday morning, I just had a little trouble walking down the stairs to get there. Well-earned post-race soreness. And finally, after a 90-minute ride, day 14 on the bike, I could relax, for today is a total REST DAY. You know, by the end of the day on a rest day I get antsy, but in the morning, when I'm lying comfortably in my bed and I roll over to look at the clock before the sun comes up and know that I don't have to get up, I think it is better than Christmas. I mean, on Christmas I had to ride my trainer. It would get old fast, but once a month I will gladly take it.
So there you go. Finally a good race, a positive experience and something to show me that I'm headed in the right direction. And obviously I've gotten better at keeping things in perspective, because you can't magically run your old times when you're way fatter and more out of shape, but you can continue to move back towards the fitter, faster you. Now it doesn't seem quite so impossible.
Friday, February 20, 2009
I guess I'm racing this weekend
There is something about waking up to another unexpected coating of snow that makes you forget that you might actually have to do a race soon. It snowed on Wednesday night into Thursday morning, but nobody told me that I should expect more snow to sneak up on us in the middle of the night and make things more interesting this morning. And then, oh yeah, I'm running a half marathon on Sunday. It sure doesn't feel like race season.
Yesterday was a good day. There was the aforementioned extra sleep, which is always a good thing. Then in the late afternoon I headed out for a pretty regular little run, 1:05 at my zone 1 heart rate. It was "warm" by my current standards, nearly 40 degrees. That meant I could forgo the skull cap and could just wear a regular long-sleeved shirt without any sort of insulation. I felt lighter already. Adequate time had also passed for the roads to not be slushy or snowy from the evening storm. I contemplated what route I might take. For years I have run the same out-and-back on the same street for many of my runs, going further out as needed. But last year I started running this sort of figure-eight loop that I kind of like. The only catch: it's really hilly. Not much flat. Up for a mile, down half a mile, up another half-mile, down again... etc. But, it's just a nicer route and takes me through more back roads with less traffic, even if it means facing more difficult terrain.
So I went for it. Right away I just plain felt better than I have in a very, very long time on a run. That was certainly a nice change of pace. My legs didn't feel like they were screaming at me as I climbed the hills and I didn't feel like I was slowing considerably as the run went along. My pace wasn't stellar, but it was a whole lot better than it has been, and that was enough to make me feel like I'm finally on the right track.
So now I feel a lot better about running a half marathon this weekend. It's funny, for a long time I could've stepped up to the start line at a half-marathon at a moment's notice and not thought twice about it. It seems a bit more intimidating at the moment. Although I am not sure I have ever run a half marathon that didn't come the day after a 5-6-hour bike ride in the midst of Ironman training. I actually get to sort of taper for this one. The most exciting thing for me is that I finally get to carbo-load! I have missed pancakes desperately in the past several months, and now I finally get to have them again. Just for a day, but it's better than nothing.
So tomorrow I will head down to Hyannis to run a half marathon for the first time since last May, when I had a dismal showing after coming back from 6-weeks of not running, about 10 days of training and a long run of 6 miles. That one was not pretty. This one hopefully will be better. I am choosing not to count my overheating at Mooseman and my complete meltdown at Timberman in August, Have you ever had a run split that was longer than your bike split? I now know what that feels like. It is not fun. But hey, it's a new year.
Yesterday was a good day. There was the aforementioned extra sleep, which is always a good thing. Then in the late afternoon I headed out for a pretty regular little run, 1:05 at my zone 1 heart rate. It was "warm" by my current standards, nearly 40 degrees. That meant I could forgo the skull cap and could just wear a regular long-sleeved shirt without any sort of insulation. I felt lighter already. Adequate time had also passed for the roads to not be slushy or snowy from the evening storm. I contemplated what route I might take. For years I have run the same out-and-back on the same street for many of my runs, going further out as needed. But last year I started running this sort of figure-eight loop that I kind of like. The only catch: it's really hilly. Not much flat. Up for a mile, down half a mile, up another half-mile, down again... etc. But, it's just a nicer route and takes me through more back roads with less traffic, even if it means facing more difficult terrain.
So I went for it. Right away I just plain felt better than I have in a very, very long time on a run. That was certainly a nice change of pace. My legs didn't feel like they were screaming at me as I climbed the hills and I didn't feel like I was slowing considerably as the run went along. My pace wasn't stellar, but it was a whole lot better than it has been, and that was enough to make me feel like I'm finally on the right track.
So now I feel a lot better about running a half marathon this weekend. It's funny, for a long time I could've stepped up to the start line at a half-marathon at a moment's notice and not thought twice about it. It seems a bit more intimidating at the moment. Although I am not sure I have ever run a half marathon that didn't come the day after a 5-6-hour bike ride in the midst of Ironman training. I actually get to sort of taper for this one. The most exciting thing for me is that I finally get to carbo-load! I have missed pancakes desperately in the past several months, and now I finally get to have them again. Just for a day, but it's better than nothing.
So tomorrow I will head down to Hyannis to run a half marathon for the first time since last May, when I had a dismal showing after coming back from 6-weeks of not running, about 10 days of training and a long run of 6 miles. That one was not pretty. This one hopefully will be better. I am choosing not to count my overheating at Mooseman and my complete meltdown at Timberman in August, Have you ever had a run split that was longer than your bike split? I now know what that feels like. It is not fun. But hey, it's a new year.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
How I love sleeping
As someone who usually gets up in the 5-5:30am range (and a few times this week in the 4-4:30 range) you'd think maybe I wasn't such a fan of sleeping. Not true. I fully compensate by being in bed between 8-8:30 more often than not, and actually, almost ashamed to admit it, but on Sunday night I went to bed at 7:15. I think my 2-year old nephew goes to bed later than that. And I was asleep within minutes.
I hate staying up late at night. Really, I am almost physically incapable of it. It is a trend that developed a little later in life for me, but really it has always been more of a tendency of mine. When I first went away to college I remember that in choosing who our roommates would be one of the questions we had to answer was what time we went to bed at night. Throughout high school on weekdays I was usually in bed between 9-9:30 - you know, much later than I do now - but I think the earliest box you could check off was before 11:30. That first semester my classes either started at 8am or 9:30am, depending on the day, and I remember how my friends in the 9:30 class hated having to be up so early, where I was happy on those days that I got to sleep in. It sure beat having to get to high school by 7:15 in order to get a parking space. My friends only occasionally gave me a hard time about being in bed before Conan even started, and my roommate and I eventually got our neighbors used to not being quite so loud and/or participatory when they watched wrestling late at night.
However, when given the opportunity, I sure did love to sleep in. In keeping with the college theme I'll recall how I had two separate semesters in which I only had classes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, which of course left me 4-day weekends, and plenty of sleep. Not parties, as I was not into that kind of thing, just lots and lots of sleep in between usual basketball games. I guess I kind of miss waking up at 11 on Monday mornings. Although in the general college population I was an amateur at sleeping in. I remember coming home from basketball games at maybe 4pm on Saturday afternoons and running into people in the dorm elevator who had just gotten up. Seriously? Wow.
My definition of sleeping in has changed quite a bit. Given my current training schedule, I usually have one day a week where I just let myself sleep as much as I need to. That day happens to be today, since I don't have to swim (my pool by far is easiest to deal with first thing in the morning) and don't have a large volume of training to get in. I guess I could sleep in on the weekends and start my training later, but for some reason I have a thing about getting the long training days started early in the morning so I have a big chunk of the day afterward to just relax and not have anything else to worry about. So last night I went to bed at about 8:15 and after a brief period of being awake at about 5:30 this morning since that is what time I usually get up, I finally rolled over at 7:15. Yes, my definition of sleeping in has definitely changed. I consider that to be a huge success and I feel a whole lot better for it.
Lots of sleeping means that you get in a lot of dreaming too. And lately, I seem to be dreaming about food. In a pretty comical way, actually. Given that I am in the process of trying to lose a pretty substantial amount of weight and am not eating a lot of deliciously indulgent things, apparently my subconscious is fixated on those things. Plus, I keep waking up in the middle of the night incredibly hungry. But I almost woke up laughing when two nights ago I awakened from a dream in which I was eating ice cream. But, it wasn't just that I was eating ice cream. I was eating ice cream out of a container the size of a huge trash barrel - you know, one of those big ones you'd find in your school cafeteria - and it had peanut butter cups and Oreos and who knows what else. Kind of like the way-beyond-gotta-have-it-size Cold Stone Creamery concoction. Think I might have been a little hungry?
I hate staying up late at night. Really, I am almost physically incapable of it. It is a trend that developed a little later in life for me, but really it has always been more of a tendency of mine. When I first went away to college I remember that in choosing who our roommates would be one of the questions we had to answer was what time we went to bed at night. Throughout high school on weekdays I was usually in bed between 9-9:30 - you know, much later than I do now - but I think the earliest box you could check off was before 11:30. That first semester my classes either started at 8am or 9:30am, depending on the day, and I remember how my friends in the 9:30 class hated having to be up so early, where I was happy on those days that I got to sleep in. It sure beat having to get to high school by 7:15 in order to get a parking space. My friends only occasionally gave me a hard time about being in bed before Conan even started, and my roommate and I eventually got our neighbors used to not being quite so loud and/or participatory when they watched wrestling late at night.
However, when given the opportunity, I sure did love to sleep in. In keeping with the college theme I'll recall how I had two separate semesters in which I only had classes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, which of course left me 4-day weekends, and plenty of sleep. Not parties, as I was not into that kind of thing, just lots and lots of sleep in between usual basketball games. I guess I kind of miss waking up at 11 on Monday mornings. Although in the general college population I was an amateur at sleeping in. I remember coming home from basketball games at maybe 4pm on Saturday afternoons and running into people in the dorm elevator who had just gotten up. Seriously? Wow.
My definition of sleeping in has changed quite a bit. Given my current training schedule, I usually have one day a week where I just let myself sleep as much as I need to. That day happens to be today, since I don't have to swim (my pool by far is easiest to deal with first thing in the morning) and don't have a large volume of training to get in. I guess I could sleep in on the weekends and start my training later, but for some reason I have a thing about getting the long training days started early in the morning so I have a big chunk of the day afterward to just relax and not have anything else to worry about. So last night I went to bed at about 8:15 and after a brief period of being awake at about 5:30 this morning since that is what time I usually get up, I finally rolled over at 7:15. Yes, my definition of sleeping in has definitely changed. I consider that to be a huge success and I feel a whole lot better for it.
Lots of sleeping means that you get in a lot of dreaming too. And lately, I seem to be dreaming about food. In a pretty comical way, actually. Given that I am in the process of trying to lose a pretty substantial amount of weight and am not eating a lot of deliciously indulgent things, apparently my subconscious is fixated on those things. Plus, I keep waking up in the middle of the night incredibly hungry. But I almost woke up laughing when two nights ago I awakened from a dream in which I was eating ice cream. But, it wasn't just that I was eating ice cream. I was eating ice cream out of a container the size of a huge trash barrel - you know, one of those big ones you'd find in your school cafeteria - and it had peanut butter cups and Oreos and who knows what else. Kind of like the way-beyond-gotta-have-it-size Cold Stone Creamery concoction. Think I might have been a little hungry?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Riding outside in February
You have to be ready to seize opportunities to ride outside in the winter around here. Sometimes the circumstances can be just right and you can sneak out. In this case, I probably made it with about 3 hours to spare and surely won't be able to ride outside again for at least a few days due to an approaching snow storm, but that didn't stop me today. The temperatures were in the low 30's, which is just "warm" enough to be tolerable - especially when you are going crazy riding in place every single day. It amazingly hasn't snowed in 3 weeks which has given the roads a chance to really clear of ice, sand and salt. It was a little windy, but not so much that the windchill got unbearable. So I decided to finally hit the road, for the first time since sometime around New Year's.
First, I had to find all of my cold weather riding gear, and of course it takes a whole lot longer to get dressed when you are going to brave the elements and when you haven't needed that stuff in a while. I still can't find my bike sunglasses, but I'm sure they'll turn up. Then I had to walk my bike down the driveway because there is still a large chunk of it that is complete ice, but it is a vast improvement over what it was before. But once I got past that, off I went. It was so nice to actually get somewhere when I pedaled. Today only called for a 2-hour recovery ride, but I may have gone a little bit harder than I should have, merely because I was just so happy to be outside and not in my basement. It seemed windier than I expected it to be, although considering the fact that I have not had to deal with wind in at least 2 months, my tolerance may be a bit low. The other thing was that my ears seemed to be incredibly cold since my hat didn't completely cover them, but other than that, yep, that was much better than the trainer.
Afterward I went off on a little transition run which was also supposed to be nice and easy. Somehow it wound up being about 20 seconds/mile faster than my much higher heart rate run yesterday, but I can never tell what is going on with my running anymore, so I guess I can be happy about that. Now, just have to wait for it to snow tonight for the first time in a long time and it will be back to the basement for the bike ride tomorrow. Oh, well. It was a nice little change of pace.
First, I had to find all of my cold weather riding gear, and of course it takes a whole lot longer to get dressed when you are going to brave the elements and when you haven't needed that stuff in a while. I still can't find my bike sunglasses, but I'm sure they'll turn up. Then I had to walk my bike down the driveway because there is still a large chunk of it that is complete ice, but it is a vast improvement over what it was before. But once I got past that, off I went. It was so nice to actually get somewhere when I pedaled. Today only called for a 2-hour recovery ride, but I may have gone a little bit harder than I should have, merely because I was just so happy to be outside and not in my basement. It seemed windier than I expected it to be, although considering the fact that I have not had to deal with wind in at least 2 months, my tolerance may be a bit low. The other thing was that my ears seemed to be incredibly cold since my hat didn't completely cover them, but other than that, yep, that was much better than the trainer.
Afterward I went off on a little transition run which was also supposed to be nice and easy. Somehow it wound up being about 20 seconds/mile faster than my much higher heart rate run yesterday, but I can never tell what is going on with my running anymore, so I guess I can be happy about that. Now, just have to wait for it to snow tonight for the first time in a long time and it will be back to the basement for the bike ride tomorrow. Oh, well. It was a nice little change of pace.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Watching other people run
After a whole lot of training of my own for the weekend - 10 hours and 24 minutes to be precise - I somehow managed to meet up with some friends and head to the coast to watch them run the Hampton Half Marathon. I ran this race myself last year - in fact, it was the last race that I've done that wasn't a completely embarrassing disaster, even though at the time I was disappointed with my 1:40 time - but this year it was not on the schedule as I have to wait another week to embarrass myself in Hyannis.
I have done more race spectating in the past year than I have I think ever. At least a half marathon is pretty low-key and easy to watch. It was also a beautiful day for February in New Hampshire -sunny, a slight breeze and temperatures in the mid 30's. The pre-post-race festivities were held inside of a hotel, so I had somewhere to sit and be warm while the runners disappeared for a while. It still feels strange for me to be at a race and not be doing that race. And in spite of the fact that I had gotten up incredibly early to squeeze in a 4-hour brick before I left, I still felt kind of guilty that I wasn't running, and like I was lesser than all of those racers who were there.
But anyway, at about 1:10 into the race I made my way outside because I figured that the winner would be coming across soon, and I was right as he appeared and crossed the line in a little over 1:13. It never ceases to amaze me how fast some people can run. The top runners were pretty sparse, and about at the time I expected came my friend Kevin, who managed 8th place in a time of 1:21. Once upon a time I used to do some of my run training with him. You'd think it was me who was the one in my 40's, and yet he keeps getting faster and I have gotten dramatically slower, but anyway... he seemed happy with his results, as he should've been. My other friends who ran were just doing it as an easy training run, so although under normal circumstances they would've come across somewhere between 1:24-1:26, they came in at 1:35 and 1:40, respectively.
In watching those runners cross, it always amazes me how fast some people can be when they don't really look like they are running that fast. Long strides, short strides, different body types and ages, you just can't tell by looking at someone if they are going to be fast. I was looking at the people who were coming in around what used to be my real half marathon time, 1:34, and I none of them even looked that tired, where I usually felt like I was going to die after a run like that. Then as the time ticked on, I saw more and more people crossing and they looked slower and slower. And yet we still hadn't reached what was likely to be my time for next week's race. It is still driving me crazy how slow I've gotten in such a short amount of time and how long it seems to be taking for it to come back. I honestly feel like I must have the sharpest, quickest rate of declining performance for any human being ever on the face of the planet who did not suffer some sort of horrible accident or come down with a debilitating disease. I feel like I am defying science. But what else can I do but continue to train and see what happens?
Anyway, after my 4-hour workout, watching the race, wondering what I'm doing wrong and finally getting home at about 4pm, I wound up going to bed at 7:15 last night, and I SLEPT. That is certainly not my normal bedtime, but I surely needed it in this case. A nice, easy day today of an easy swim and a 1-hour easy ride (day 7 on the bike, 7 to go) Maybe by tomorrow things will be better.
I have done more race spectating in the past year than I have I think ever. At least a half marathon is pretty low-key and easy to watch. It was also a beautiful day for February in New Hampshire -sunny, a slight breeze and temperatures in the mid 30's. The pre-post-race festivities were held inside of a hotel, so I had somewhere to sit and be warm while the runners disappeared for a while. It still feels strange for me to be at a race and not be doing that race. And in spite of the fact that I had gotten up incredibly early to squeeze in a 4-hour brick before I left, I still felt kind of guilty that I wasn't running, and like I was lesser than all of those racers who were there.
But anyway, at about 1:10 into the race I made my way outside because I figured that the winner would be coming across soon, and I was right as he appeared and crossed the line in a little over 1:13. It never ceases to amaze me how fast some people can run. The top runners were pretty sparse, and about at the time I expected came my friend Kevin, who managed 8th place in a time of 1:21. Once upon a time I used to do some of my run training with him. You'd think it was me who was the one in my 40's, and yet he keeps getting faster and I have gotten dramatically slower, but anyway... he seemed happy with his results, as he should've been. My other friends who ran were just doing it as an easy training run, so although under normal circumstances they would've come across somewhere between 1:24-1:26, they came in at 1:35 and 1:40, respectively.
In watching those runners cross, it always amazes me how fast some people can be when they don't really look like they are running that fast. Long strides, short strides, different body types and ages, you just can't tell by looking at someone if they are going to be fast. I was looking at the people who were coming in around what used to be my real half marathon time, 1:34, and I none of them even looked that tired, where I usually felt like I was going to die after a run like that. Then as the time ticked on, I saw more and more people crossing and they looked slower and slower. And yet we still hadn't reached what was likely to be my time for next week's race. It is still driving me crazy how slow I've gotten in such a short amount of time and how long it seems to be taking for it to come back. I honestly feel like I must have the sharpest, quickest rate of declining performance for any human being ever on the face of the planet who did not suffer some sort of horrible accident or come down with a debilitating disease. I feel like I am defying science. But what else can I do but continue to train and see what happens?
Anyway, after my 4-hour workout, watching the race, wondering what I'm doing wrong and finally getting home at about 4pm, I wound up going to bed at 7:15 last night, and I SLEPT. That is certainly not my normal bedtime, but I surely needed it in this case. A nice, easy day today of an easy swim and a 1-hour easy ride (day 7 on the bike, 7 to go) Maybe by tomorrow things will be better.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wind, but at least it's not so cold
Today I believe was the longest ride I've ever done on the trainer. Actually, now that I think about it, I know it is. At least I can start nice and early and be done early, as well as throw my Powerbar wrappers on the floor and not actually be littering. I also realized when I was looking at my training schedule that because things are being arranged a bit to accommodate the fact that I am doing a half marathon next weekend I am in the middle of what will be 14 days straight on my bike. I may finally be able to get outside for at least a few of those rides, but for the time being I will be inside, smelling the stale sweat that keeps accumulating in the unventellated basement. I'm also actually getting sick of watching so many movies. I like to try and watch things I haven't seen before so I am not so completly aware of the time and what comes next, but inevitably I have wound up watching some really bad movies that I think sometimes make the time go slower than if I just had nothing on at all.
For whatever reason, it seems that getting through the first half of the rides is always the most painful. No matter how long the ride is in total, that first half seems to take an eternity, but the rest doesn't seem nearly as bad. Except of course for the fact that I start to get tired of sitting on my bike in soaking wet bike shorts and jersey, as well as bike shoes that have become rather squishy. But now that I've been training for a while, the workout does not end when the countdown timer on my watch beeps. No, then it is time to change into something that may be dry for at least a few minutes and head out for a run. So I did.
Currently, I am getting really tired of it being really windy out as it has been for the last four days, all of which have involved me running outside and fighting through the strong breeze. And of course no matter what it seems that the wind is blowing in my face at least 75% of the time, even though that seems like it should be physically impossible given the constant changes in direction on my running routes. It has not exactly done wonders for my run speed. I also have this bad habit of picking really hilly routes for my runs. I live in a slight valley, so really no matter which direction I want to run in I have to go up. The flattest section of road, relatively speaking, involves crossing a highway at a stoplight and I sort of like to avoid going that way for the most part just because I hate having to cross. Actually, I hate crossing on the way back more, since it is less than half a mile from home and I can't stand getting stopped when I'm so close to being finished. Not to mention the fact that people love to run that red light, often semi-trucks, so I'd rather not take too many chances. The other issue is that the road I run on over there has no shoulder and is very heavily traveled, so again, not the safest.
So instead I hang back on my side of the highway, and inevitably wind up running up long hills that seem to go on forever. It is not rolling, it is up for a long time and then maybe if you run far enough, down for a long time. This is my least favorite kind of running to do, and yet I find myself doing it the most often. My running skills are severely lacking still at the moment, to the point where I think I might actually be starting to defy science in my lack of improvement, and by the time I have been running up a hill for a couple of minutes my legs almost stop working, and yet I might barely be halfway up, which is not helpful. All I need is a little downhill reprieve, or even a flat reprieve, and I might be ok, but they never seem to come soon enough. Oh, and did I mention whenever I am running up those long hills the wind is also blowing in my face? Because it is.
But, 50 minutes later and I was home, inside, sheltered from the wind and unbelievably glad to be done with my workouts for the day. The only problem is that in order to take a shower I have to spend at least a few more minutes standing up, but I handled it ok. I am lucky in that once the workout is over, I don't have any other pressing issues, so I head straight to the couch. Early in the season these long workouts always make me a lot more tired than they do later in the season. This may not wind up being the case this year depending on how much my coach decides to beat me up during those workouts, but that remains to be seen. But there is nothing like a good post-workout nap. I prefer napping on the couch as opposed to the bed, for fear that if I went to bed I might sleep for 3 hours and not be able to fall asleep tonight when I really need to, and I also like to leave the TV on a little low. Do you know what is especially soothing to nap to? The Food Network. The best choice is really any cooking show. It puts me right out. I enjoy watching the Food Network, but it is also useful for this.
Tomorrow is the dreaded long run where I am reminded once again how truly slow I have become, and it will only be day 6 on the 14-day stretch on the bike. I'm also going to watch some friends run the Hampton Half Marathon. I ran this one myself last year. It's funny, I ran a 1:40 and I was really mad, and I think I'd kill for that time now, which is just really sad. I'm trying, anyway. I guess that counts for something.
For whatever reason, it seems that getting through the first half of the rides is always the most painful. No matter how long the ride is in total, that first half seems to take an eternity, but the rest doesn't seem nearly as bad. Except of course for the fact that I start to get tired of sitting on my bike in soaking wet bike shorts and jersey, as well as bike shoes that have become rather squishy. But now that I've been training for a while, the workout does not end when the countdown timer on my watch beeps. No, then it is time to change into something that may be dry for at least a few minutes and head out for a run. So I did.
Currently, I am getting really tired of it being really windy out as it has been for the last four days, all of which have involved me running outside and fighting through the strong breeze. And of course no matter what it seems that the wind is blowing in my face at least 75% of the time, even though that seems like it should be physically impossible given the constant changes in direction on my running routes. It has not exactly done wonders for my run speed. I also have this bad habit of picking really hilly routes for my runs. I live in a slight valley, so really no matter which direction I want to run in I have to go up. The flattest section of road, relatively speaking, involves crossing a highway at a stoplight and I sort of like to avoid going that way for the most part just because I hate having to cross. Actually, I hate crossing on the way back more, since it is less than half a mile from home and I can't stand getting stopped when I'm so close to being finished. Not to mention the fact that people love to run that red light, often semi-trucks, so I'd rather not take too many chances. The other issue is that the road I run on over there has no shoulder and is very heavily traveled, so again, not the safest.
So instead I hang back on my side of the highway, and inevitably wind up running up long hills that seem to go on forever. It is not rolling, it is up for a long time and then maybe if you run far enough, down for a long time. This is my least favorite kind of running to do, and yet I find myself doing it the most often. My running skills are severely lacking still at the moment, to the point where I think I might actually be starting to defy science in my lack of improvement, and by the time I have been running up a hill for a couple of minutes my legs almost stop working, and yet I might barely be halfway up, which is not helpful. All I need is a little downhill reprieve, or even a flat reprieve, and I might be ok, but they never seem to come soon enough. Oh, and did I mention whenever I am running up those long hills the wind is also blowing in my face? Because it is.
But, 50 minutes later and I was home, inside, sheltered from the wind and unbelievably glad to be done with my workouts for the day. The only problem is that in order to take a shower I have to spend at least a few more minutes standing up, but I handled it ok. I am lucky in that once the workout is over, I don't have any other pressing issues, so I head straight to the couch. Early in the season these long workouts always make me a lot more tired than they do later in the season. This may not wind up being the case this year depending on how much my coach decides to beat me up during those workouts, but that remains to be seen. But there is nothing like a good post-workout nap. I prefer napping on the couch as opposed to the bed, for fear that if I went to bed I might sleep for 3 hours and not be able to fall asleep tonight when I really need to, and I also like to leave the TV on a little low. Do you know what is especially soothing to nap to? The Food Network. The best choice is really any cooking show. It puts me right out. I enjoy watching the Food Network, but it is also useful for this.
Tomorrow is the dreaded long run where I am reminded once again how truly slow I have become, and it will only be day 6 on the 14-day stretch on the bike. I'm also going to watch some friends run the Hampton Half Marathon. I ran this one myself last year. It's funny, I ran a 1:40 and I was really mad, and I think I'd kill for that time now, which is just really sad. I'm trying, anyway. I guess that counts for something.
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