tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21048408822145268932024-03-12T23:12:05.163-05:00 tfaar Tales from an Average RunnerShannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.comBlogger253125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-70023170009282918082018-03-06T14:17:00.002-06:002018-03-06T14:17:26.494-06:00A Year of Running MeHello! My name is Shannon, and I am a streak runner. No, I don't find venues or sporting events to then run naked through. I run daily, as in consecutive days, as in without taking what you might consider a typical rest day.<br />
<br />
So, the big news regarding all this of course is that I am still at it. When last I posted about it I was only a few months into it after taking on and completing a 39-day, 3-miles-a-day running challenge. If you want to know why I did that at all, I think I summed it up nicely here: "<a href="http://talesfromanaveragerunner.blogspot.com/2017/02/when-answer-is-always-run-more-whats.html">When the answer is always "run more," what's the question?</a>"<br />
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Well, here it is Day 469, and theoretically I am still at it. I say "theoretically," because I haven't actually run today. Maybe today's the day I don't run, but unlikely. Since starting this streak, I have knocked down my must run distance to one mile, which is what Streak Runners International, Inc., and the United States Running Streak Association, Inc., deem as the minimum required mileage to accomplish per calendar day to be considered a streak runner. And, no, I am not a member of either of these organizations and have no intention of joining, but if they say a mile, who am I to argue?<br />
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Mostly I don't think about this running streak anymore. I don't really consider it a streak. That, in my mind, would imply that I am trying to obtain some sort of goal, when in reality I am not consciously really doing that anymore. I just run. It's just something that I do.<br />
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A few months ago, I had a conversation with another runner (who also has runs daily) about whether or not what I do is an addiction. He argued vociferously that it was. Whereas, that didn't feel quite right to me.<br />
<br />
Streak running doesn't feel like an addiction or even a compulsion.<br />
<br />
According to <i>www.dictionary.com</i>, an addiction is "the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that
is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an
extent that its cessation causes severe trauma." Running isn't like that. There are days when indeed I look at it and think - meh - I really don't want to do it today. But, then I think, I only need run a mile and that is only about 10 (or 12) minutes of my day. I guess I can manage that. I make myself get it done.<br />
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So, then is it a compulsion? According to <i>www.dictionary.com</i>, a compulsion is "<span class="st"><span class="dbox-italic"></span>a strong, usually irresistible impulse to perform an act, especially one that is irrational or contrary to one's will." So, that sounds like it fits. But, if it is a compulsion, then I would say it's more like a compulsion in the sense that brushing your teeth is a compulsion. Sure, I could stop brushing my teeth anytime, but <i>ewwww</i>, why would I want to? That's how running feels. Yes, I could stop anytime, but why would I want to?</span><br />
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<span class="st">Running brings me joy and happiness. Literally, when I run, I am happy. Even if it is just a mile. Don't I want to be happy? So, why would I stop. And, seriously, we're talking 10-12 minutes a day. It's really a no-brainer.</span><br />
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<span class="st">So, why do it at all then? If it is just 10-12 minutes, what could I possibly still be getting from that? Well, first of all, the one-milers are not frequent. I try to limit them to once a week - my official "rest day." If I am feeling excessively tired, hurt, or time-crunched, then the mile it is. I don't overthink it. While my husband and I were on vacation recently, we spent a week hiking in the Sedona area - 38 miles to be exact. I ran a lot more one-milers during that week than normal because of the hikes. So, in some sense the one-miler is indeed a place holder. So, why do them? </span><br />
<ol>
<li><span class="st"><b>Mental consistency. </b>I really feel better NOT thinking about running, and I have to think a lot less about it if I am doing it every day. I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but trust me on this one.</span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Physical consistency. </b>My body gets running now and I am in no hurry for it to forget what it's like. </span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Keep things going. </b>I truly believe it keeps things limber. As someone who has suffered from tendon injuries a LOT over the years, I think running every day helps to keep things greased and oiled, so to speak. I could be wrong but running that mile just feels right - like I am keeping the gears running smoothly. </span></li>
</ol>
<span class="st">So, this is just what I do. Is it for everyone? No, not at all. And I don't encourage other people to do it. If they want to hear my story, I'll tell them. But, mostly, everyone needs to find what works for them. I don't even know if running every day will work for ME forever. I assume it won't...that I'll have to stop at some point. But, up until now this streak has withstood injury, others' illnesses (luckily, *knocking on wood,* I haven't had an illness that couldn't survive a slow mile on the treadmill), travel, life's other little curve balls, and the Mighty "Meh." </span><br />
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<span class="st">Since I don't really think about the running every day thing - or discuss it for that matter - I was surprised recently when four different people I knew, separately, told me they were starting to streak run. My first thought was why would you want to do that? But, I don't own the idea, for sure, so I think it's cool that others are jumping on board. But, it got me thinking about what advice I would give to someone trying this and I came up with the following. It's not much, but here it is:</span><br />
<h3>
<b><span class="st">Advice</span></b></h3>
<ol>
<li><span class="st"><b>Running every day is not going to fix everything that ails your running. </b>What it will do for you is create consistency so that you have something to build on to get stronger. And, it will probably make you a more efficient runner. But if you have muscle imbalances, running form problems, or whatever other issues, running every day won't necessarily fix those. It won't replace strength training if you are weak or yoga if you need help with flexibility, for example. And, it won't replace a good training plan if you have an upcoming race you're keen on running.</span><span class="st"> </span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Easy-Hard days. </b>This is one that I cannot stress enough. In fact, this probably should have been the first point. Running every day you STILL have to follow a pattern of easy-hard, easy-hard with your running. If you kill a workout today, tomorrow you had better take it nice and easy. (And maybe it's not day for day with you, but whatever cycle works for you...two hard days, easy, two hard, easy....whatever works.) Currently, I am training for a half marathon, so I am aiming for one good quality speed workout a week, one longer run a week, and one hilly run a week. The rest are EASY. They are slow or flat or short, short - or a combination of all three. I really like the 80-20 rule....the idea that about 80 percent of your runs are actually pretty easy during the week...only 20 percent are hard.</span><span class="st"> </span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Listen to your body. </b>This is stellar advice regardless what you do, but especially important if you want to run every day. Running every day I have found that I really can ignore 90 percent of the little aches and pains I feel on any given day, but I do make note of them. If they seem to be persistent, or getting worse, I proactively intercede. It's better to cut back mileage and get help sooner than to bully through something and have it develop into a much more difficult situation.</span><span class="st"> </span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Be flexible - time. </b>Not just in your week and what mileage you run, or whether you run easy or hard, but also time of day. Some days you just need a bit more rest, so if you ran yesterday morning, maybe it's best to wait until this evening to run. Even that extra eight hours could make a difference.</span><span class="st"> </span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Be flexible - what you do. </b>Unless you are someone who absolutely thrives on unwavering routine (I am not such a person), then you might need to be willing to mix things up a bit. I run roads, trails, hills, flat, with people, without, morning, afternoon, night, treadmill, track (inside and out), with TV on, without, short, long, tempo, interval....etc., etc. Without the ability to change it up a LOT, this would have died a quick death long ago.</span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Give it time. </b>If you are new to this, then give it time. For me, it took 17 days for my body to really just get used to the idea of daily runs. (I logged it.) The first week I think my legs were amused. The second week, they were mad. The third week, they got it. And, it's been fine ever since. Now, if my body's tired, it's because of the type of running I've done, or the mileage. Not because it's day 469. <b> </b></span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Ease in to your mileage.</b> If you are running 25 miles a week over four days, then your first weeks of streak running probably should not jump to 40 miles a week because you're adding three days. Take the mileage you're at and divvy it up over seven days. Then, build from there.<b> </b></span></li>
<li><span class="st"><b>Be gentle with your loved ones.</b> Just because you love running every day doesn't mean anyone else will. But, with a bit of finesse and education (after all, one mile is just 10-12 minutes - give or take depending on your speed), you'll get them on board. Or, at least figure out how to get the run in before they notice. As one friend said, you could be in the bathroom for 10 minutes and your family wouldn't even notice. <b> </b></span></li>
</ol>
<span class="st">My last bit of advice could be number nine on the list, but I needed a concluding paragraph. So, here it is: <b>Don't sweat it. </b> </span><br />
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<span class="st">Seriously. If you are stressing about not fitting your run in each day, then why are you doing this? Running every day is meant to be joyful, not drudgery. Are there going to be days you really don't want to do it? Sure. Just like there are mornings when you're running around and chaos is erupting and you'd rather not take the time to brush your teeth. (Or is that just me?) A day or two of "meh" - or even longer - is fine, but if changing up your routine or cutting back on mileage doesn't help, then maybe you really <i>don't </i>want to be doing a streak. And. That. Is. Fine. It really doesn't matter. The bottom line is running - or any activity you spend a lot of time on - should be joyful. If it's not, then it's time to reassess.</span><br />
<span class="st"></span><span class="st"><span class="st"></span></span>Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-79299741453335052762017-03-20T13:24:00.001-05:002017-03-20T13:34:00.605-05:00Aurora Health Care Two Rivers 10-Mile Run - Race ReportIt was o'dark thirty when five of my bestest running friends converged on my house for the long drive to Two Rivers, Wisconsin, so that we could take part in the Two Rivers 10-Mile Run. I was excited to finally have a chance to do this race as it had been on my radar for some years but the timing had never worked out. This year, though, it seemed to fall into place perfectly on my running calendar and I was quick to take advantage of that.<br />
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After an uneventful but slightly groggy drive we landed at Two Rivers High School, where the event was being staged. A lovely venue for the race, there was plenty of room to hang out inside the building, a fair number of bathrooms, and the cafeteria was large enough to handle packet pickup and some last-minute clothing adjustments and bib pinnings without feeling like you were bumping elbows with the person next to you. In fact, the high school was probably large enough to accommodate a decent length warm-up run <i>inside</i> the building if one were so inclined. (Needless to say, I was not so inclined.)<br />
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We had perfect weather on the slate for yesterday's run: 30 degrees at the start, mostly cloudy, and only a whisper of a breeze. Lining up at the start I was already regretting my choice of attire, which included a pair of tights and a thin merino-wool long-sleeved top under a light shell. With the humidity in the 90-percent range (and me not liking cold, damp conditions), I dressed for being cold. As it turned out, I was indeed a bit overdressed, but nothing that made me absolutely miserable.<br />
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As the gun went off, five of our little group started out together. Our lone speedster had lined up a bit further ahead of us, which was as it should be. Starting out with the others, though, was great fun. It's nice to have people to talk to, or just listen to, to feel a sense of belonging. I run so many of my runs solo that being a part of a group is a rare treat, and something I've really come to look forward to.<br />
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As with runners everywhere, we started out a tad too fast. I don't think anyone in the group had a solid time goal of what we wanted to accomplish in this event, but fast is fast and you know it when you feel it.<br />
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The group I was running with usually does a 2:30/:30 run/walk, but yesterday they decided to run the first few miles through before going to the run/walk strategy. While I have always been a huge fan of the run/walk, since starting my running streak I've stuck more to pure running. The more I have run, the more efficient I have become and it really isn't as hard for me as it once was. Couple that with better overall recovery from running, and I have all but abandoned the run/walk. That's not to say I would never do it, because I would in a heartbeat if I thought it would help me on any given day, but for yesterday I just thought I would run with them until they started their intervals. Then I would continue on and just see how things felt since I was not running with a watch.<br />
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So the first few miles would have remained non-noteworthy, filled no doubt with some laughs and good conversation and a solid attempt to not go out too fast, if it had not been for that one person who joined our little group. Now, I am not one to complain about others, and mostly I adhere to the policy of if you have nothing nice to say, don't say it. However, yesterday's encounter with the It's-All-About-Me Runner almost sent me over the edge. I won't go into details, but I am taking it as a personal lesson. If I decide in the future to join a group of strangers on a run, I'd better be prepared to ask some questions and find out something about them, instead of just talking about everything I've accomplished up to that point in my life. Whew! Anyway, by Mile 3, I had passed her and life moved on. Back to the race...<br />
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So, apparently I was a little confused as to where this race actually ran. If I had looked at the course map ahead of time, then I would have realized that the route did not run along Lake Michigan the entire way - like I had pictured in my head for the past few years. (Not sure why I thought that, other than the town of Manitowoc is about five miles south of Two Rivers along Lake Michigan and I had just assumed this race took us to Manitowoc and back. Duh.) <br />
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While we did see the lake for a brief spell around Mile 4, the rest of the time was spent wending our way along the country roads near Point Beach State Forest and Point Beach Ridges State Natural Area. Although different from what I had anticipated, the race really did not disappoint. Except for the first mile and a half or so, the entire course was pretty and fairly well protected with large pine trees all around. The "protected" part is important, because while we had fantastic weather, I suspect that is not always the case. I dunno, something about mid-March and Northeast Wisconsin has me thinking that anything might be possible weather-wise at this event.<br />
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Around Mile 3 or so, the run/walkers in my group started their thing, and I decided to try my luck continuing to run. One friend decided to run with me and see what happened, which turned out to be great. It was nice having someone to talk to, and I suspect I was a bit better at keeping up the pace with her there with me.<br />
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On the whole, I felt very good for much of the run. On a scale between conversational and gasping, my breathing stayed somewhere in between the whole time. There were water stations with water and Gatorade every two miles, and I just focused on getting from one to the next and not much else. I tried to keep my water station stops to a minimum, lingering just long enough to grab a drink, walk through the water station, thank the volunteers, and then keep going once I'd reached the garbage can at the end.<br />
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Around Mile 5 I noticed my legs starting to feel a bit heavy, but I put that down to the faster pace than I was used to. Although, in retrospect, maybe it had something to do with only drinking water up to that point. I am not sure. I did take a Gu at the Mile 6 water station, for what it was worth. I don't know if it helped or not, but I tried to convince myself that it did. The good news is that the heaviness didn't really impact my pace too much. I seemed able to keep on trucking.<br />
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Around Mile 7, I started feeling ready to be done. I don't know how much of that was physical or mental, because it was around that time that we passed by the turn towards the finish. Before making that turn, we apparently had to do a little mile-and-a-half or so out-and-back section. It's always disappointing, I find, when I have to go <i>away</i> from a finish line late in a race.<br />
<br />
Soon after passing our would-be turn, we passed through what would eventually be the Mile 8 aid station. I didn't want to stop, though, until after reaching the turnaround on our out-and-back, when it would really be Mile 8. It's good to have something to look forward to.<br />
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Around this time, my running friend said she thought she would go to her run/walk interval, so I pressed ahead a bit thinking she was going to start taking her walk breaks. Over the next mile, though, I continued to hear her footsteps behind me and I grew dubious that she was actually ever walking, but I decided not to look back. At the turnaround, I saw that she was indeed right behind me, but I didn't question it too much at that point. I was too distracted by how heartened I was to see the annoying lady from the first few miles a short ways behind me (#sorrynotsorry) and surprised and happy at the same time to see my other friends not that far behind her. (Not <i>Schadenfreude</i> happy this time, but truly happy. There is a difference.)<br />
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By the time I got to the Mile 8 aid station, I was ready for some Gatorade and pleased to see it was purple - my favorite flavor. It was also around here that I concluded that I wasn't going to lose my other running friend, because she had decided she wasn't actually going to walk after all. As we fell into step to run together again, I was actually relieved. Running alone had felt a lot harder than it did with her there. The next mile and a half passed by relatively quickly.<br />
<br />
Right around Mile 9, we had a bit of a hill to climb, one we had come down in the first couple miles of the race and one that neither of us could remember as being that significant on the way out. After the hill, I was definitely ready to be done, so when my running partner started picking up the pace with a half mile to go my brain said, "Hell yeah!" Sadly, my body said, "Whaaaaa!?" Although I tried valiantly to put on the speed, my legs didn't cooperate. They were done. I still ran in to the finish, but I ended up being a good 30 seconds behind my friend crossing the line.<br />
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That's okay, though, because finishing in 1:33:35, I was surprised to learn I was third place in my age group, something that I have seldom accomplished.<br />
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After the race, food was set up in the high school cafeteria for runners to enjoy. There was chili and ham and turkey Subway sandwiches. For us vegetarians, there were cut-up bagels, peanut butter, cream cheese, bananas, oranges, and chocolate chip cookies, as well as chocolate milk, water, and Gatorade. Awards were given out at around 10:05 a.m. (after an 8 a.m. start) with first place age group winners receiving a trophy and second and third place finishers getting medals. Massage therapists were also on hand to rub away any aches and pains.<br />
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So, some final thoughts on this event - and this day.<br />
<br />
- This was a nice race. I think the folks putting on the event do a very nice job with it. It seems like it must attract a lot of faster runners, given the times I was hearing for the winners. But with the mostly flat course, that makes sense. <br />
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- Weather-wise, we got lucky. There's nothing else to say about that. It's bound to happen sometimes.<br />
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- My average pace ended up being 9:21/mile. This is funny because the only other race I have done this year was a 5K in January where my average pace was 9:18/mile. Curious.<br />
<br />
- Despite my friends doing their run/walk strategy from Mile 3 on, they finished only about two-and-a-half minutes behind me. Just another testament to the fact that the run/walk doesn't really compromise one's race performance.<br />
<br />
- I really feel excited about racing again. It's been a while since I really felt this way. Running a bunch of longer distances last year - 50K and higher - I never felt like I was racing. I mean, I cannot "race" a 50K, I can only try to survive it. At least at this point. For the first time in a long time I feel I can actually try to strategize my approach to an event, test it out, and then see how it goes. That's kind of fun. Anyway, next up - a half marathon.<br />
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So, that's my race report. Today I meant to go out and run a mile and walk two, but then things felt pretty good actually and I ended up running a slow three miles. The weather is gorgeous, though, with sunny skies and temperatures in the high 40s. It was nice just to get out there and enjoy the day.<br />
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Happy running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-795036790493723282017-03-14T15:45:00.000-05:002017-03-17T10:19:27.220-05:00It's Pi Day!Today's run consisted of what I like to call a half-baked idea to celebrate National Pi Day - March 14. With a couple of co-conspirators by way of running friends, the Slice O' Pi Run was born.<br />
<br />
At 9:30 this morning, I met up with my friends Ann and Paul at a local Perkins restaurant. As Ann was shooting for π-squared, she already had 6.28 miles in by the time I arrived. Setting out at a jaunty pace, we covered a 3.14-mile course that was roughly shaped like a slice of pie. I wouldn't say it was the best run for me. It was cold yet again with wind chills hovering around 0 degrees and sketchy footing from those who did not feel compelled to shovel after yesterday's snowfall. But, we did it, and once done we indulged in a real slice of pie and coffee at Perkins. <br />
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I can't say I remember the last time I actually ate at a Perkins, so this was kind of a novel thing for me. I ordered the Chocolate French Silk Pie, and it was definitely decadent. Ann and I were trying to figure out if this had fewer or more calories than the typical dark chocolate mocha we both have a tendency to order after group runs. While we didn't come up with a definitive answer on that one, my guess is the pie was a bit more caloric. Maybe I should have run π-squared, too.<br />
<br />
Having Pi Day fall during this week was actually fairly fortuitous for me, as I had previously decided to dedicate my entire week to the noble three-mile run. Actually, I need a down week after several weeks up...my running calendar's built-in weekly mileage tracker (in graph format) made me realize that.<br />
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Since I have yet to have a day in my now 111-day running streak where I dip below three miles, a down week for me looks like this: <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3 3 3 3 3 3 3</b></span> </div>
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So, you can see how 3.14 isn't much of a stretch.<br />
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There is one thing standing in the way of me having a 21-mile week this week, though, and that is my 10-mile event taking place this next Sunday. Since I log my miles from Monday to Sunday, 10 miles on Sunday means that I'll still have 28 miles for the week, even if every other day is a three-miler. Huh. So, I am playing with the idea of trying out a mini-taper. To accomplish that, leading into the race I would plan to run only two miles on Friday (perhaps then walking one mile) and running one mile on Saturday (perhaps walking two miles). Then at least I could claim I only <i>ran</i> 25 miles this week. I like this idea in principle, but I'm not sure yet if I'll follow through. One thing is clear, though, it is time to do a bit of a rest, so one way or another I'll work that in.<br />
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So, that's my homage to Pi Day ... a 3.14-mile run followed by a slice of pie. Oh, but then there is that one other thing. I felt so bad that my family might be left out of these Pi Day shenanigans that I went ahead and baked an apple pie.<br />
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Do you like how I made that all casual sounding? Yeah, this is probably the second or third pie I have ever baked in my life, so its creation came with much strewn flour, gnashing of teeth, and referencing of about six different websites. But, it got done. The best part was picking up my daughter from school and having her tell me all about how it was Pi Day and how it would be funny to bake a pie that had the pi symbol on it. Uh-huh. When we got home and I had her look at the finished product, her response was simply, "Great minds think alike." Yes, I guess they do. <br />
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Happy Pi Day!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-36553327556682578752017-03-10T16:42:00.001-06:002017-03-10T16:48:03.617-06:00A small celebration of 12 miles in the cold So, as far as the weather was concerned, today's 12-mile run was <i>exactly</i> like last week's 12-mile run. Lucky me. After a week of mild albeit windy days, the temperature landed at about 15 degrees with a wind chill at about 3 degrees. Huh. Well, at least it wasn't below zero!<br />
<br />
Setting out today, I fancied myself rather clever in my planning. Instead of running with the wind to my back for the first half only to circle around to a headwind for the last six miles like I did last week, today I decided it might be smarter to actually run into the wind on the way out and then have a tailwind on the way back. I know, sometimes I'm smart like that. As it turns out, even though the wind did skip around a bit on me, this was the better way to go. And, the bonus of running into the wind was that I knew within a couple of miles that I had dressed inappropriately for the weather. <br />
<br />
How is that possible, you ask? After all, you might remind me, today's weather was just like last week's weather. Well, let me explain. Last week I was dressed all but perfectly for the weather conditions, with the lone exception of my arms when I headed into the wind. That tiny bit of corporal real estate had been a bit chilled. Being the aforementioned clever person that I am, this week I decided to adjust for that. So, I added arm warmers. Brilliant, right? Yes. But, then, because that seemed too easy, I proceeded to add a hoodie, another pair of gloves under the other gloves I had worn, and a vest. Apparently, I was under the impression that if something's worth doing, it's worth overdoing. Yeah, I was a bit warm. On a positive note, my arms were fine.<br />
<br />
Anyway, in the end it felt good to get this run done. I had been skeptical of adding another 12-miler a week after my last one, but it worked out. To adjust for wind direction, I parked at a local library, ran six miles into the wind to a friend's house, and then we ran back to my car together. That second six miles passed by much more quickly than my first six miles. Maybe it was having someone to talk to - or maybe it was the wind at our backs. You can be the judge, but my money's on the conversation. In any event, I was happy to get back to my car and then reward myself with some coffee and a muffin from a conveniently located coffee shop a block from the library. <br />
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Happy Friday!<br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-66102693762970410282017-03-07T14:31:00.000-06:002017-03-07T15:31:36.786-06:00Change is in the airToday is the first day in my now 104-day running streak that I am actually disappointed after a run. I am not referring to being a little disappointed. I mean, I experienced that queasy, greasy feeling of deep disappointment in my gut, and I couldn't shake it for much of the day. I am sure there was no real need to feel that way, but I couldn't seem to help myself.<br />
<br />
Throughout this experiment, I have had overwhelmingly good runs. Mostly, I put that down to a willingness to go slow when necessary, as well as knowing that if I do have a less-than-stellar day I only have to wait about 24 hours before getting a chance to redeem myself.<br />
<br />
Today was different somehow and I don't know exactly why. I realize that I'm a bit tired from a couple of build-up weeks. In fact, thinking about it, I had something similar happen about a month ago. A week of simple three-milers snapped me out of that rut, so maybe that's what I need to be doing this week. The problem is that I really wanted this to be one more week of higher mileage - not more, just maintaining last week's mileage - before starting my slow descent towards my first half marathon race day in a few weeks. <br />
<br />
In any event, when I got to the treadmill this morning, despite feeling awake and ready to do something, I just kind of locked up. Physically, my body wasn't too enthused, and mentally I was already upstairs drinking my coffee. I had checked out. If I had a bit more flexibility in my day - or, more accurately, if I were willing to be more flexible - I would have just gotten off the treadmill and determined to try again later. After all, 5:45 a.m. is a tough hour to commit to anything anyway. And, I've noticed that giving myself even 30 hours of recovery (versus 24 hours) can sometimes make a big difference.<br />
<br />
But, that's not what I did. Instead, I started out at my easy run pace hoping that I might perk up. I started upping my pace each quarter mile, hoping to capture some of the magic I had experienced with this same workout just the week before. Didn't happen. My body and mind were just not buying it.<br />
<br />
So, after completing my one mile of running (technically what would be required to continue a running streak), I dropped my pace and raised the incline until I ended up at a doable 3.2 mph walk at 12-percent incline. And that was hard. Both physically and mentally.<br />
<br />
Having started walking, I decided to just fill in the rest of my normal easy pace run time with that walk, and by the time I was done I was dripping sweat and my breathing was definitely showing me I had a workout in. (And then, seeing as I was at 2.7 miles, of course I felt compelled to run out the remainder of my typical three miles. <i>Maybe I am a bit OCD after all.</i>)<br />
<br />
So, really....that's not a bad workout. I KNOW that. But, while I did technically move for three miles, I am somehow disappointed with myself that half of that was spent walking. Even if it was at a hefty incline. And even if incline walking was something that was in my original training plan way back when anyhow.<br />
<br />
So, what's the deal? Why the disappointment, when really if it were anyone else I would be applauding their adaptability and reminding them that with big hill-hiking type trail runs in the not-so-distant future incline walking on the treadmill should be part of the routine anyway.<br />
<br />
What am I afraid of?<br />
<br />
The answer is inconsistency. Because as crazy as this streak running sounds, there has been a kind of magic wrapped around the whole thing. I have not been plagued by injuries, and the few niggling issues I have had have dissipated within a day or two of cropping up. I have been in a happier place mentally for doing this daily exercise as well. And, doing the same things day in and day out, there has been no decision-making. No question of what I am doing, which also means no question of what I am not doing.<br />
<br />
Being inconsistent, even to such a small degree, feels a lot like gently touching my big toe to a very slippery slope, one that could lead to somewhere I don't want to be. After all, it wasn't too long ago that I would intend to take one day off from running only to have it morph into two days off ... or three ... or five. I felt like I was constantly starting over, whereas now I feel I am finally in a place where I am building off of something, and I don't want to lose that.<br />
<br />
Hmm, I wonder if that means that I have completed a successful base building phase of training. I have never done that before, so I am not exactly sure what that would feel like. However, if I had to guess, I would think it would be exactly that - feeling like I had gotten to a place from which I could build and do more.<br />
<br />
Well, then maybe it's time to reconsider what running looks like for me. Maybe today's nod towards inconsistency isn't meant to launch me down that slippery slope after all. In fact, maybe it just means I am ready for something more, ready to change things up a bit and start some more specified race training. Interesting. All of the sudden, things don't look so disappointing after all. Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-17897467007268894012017-02-27T11:35:00.002-06:002017-02-27T15:59:02.105-06:00When the answer is always "run more," what's the question?On Thanksgiving Day 2016, I started a 39-day challenge for myself. I wanted to see if I could run three miles a day every day until January 1, 2017. Why? Mostly because I was burned out from training for and running long distance events. I liked the idea of having an excuse to run short, and somehow running every day made those short distances more palatable....like I wasn't really throwing the towel in on running, just making it challenging in a different way. Also, as someone who always seems to have major injury cycles with my run training, I just wanted to try something different, something unexpected...so I decided to run more.<br />
<br />
On the surface, this whole idea seemed ludicrous, and I was fairly certain I would put myself out of commission soon enough with such shenanigans. However, on the other hand, there was enough affirmation from others who had tried this (and even my chiropractor and PT person) that I had this niggling suspicion in the back of my mind that this may not be as crazy of an idea as it sounded.<br />
<br />
So, I tried it. And succeeded. Although the first couple of weeks were a bit rough (after all, just because my mind was made up didn't mean my body was convinced), I persevered and managed to hobble through the rocky patches - those first couple of weeks when my body really balked at the continued assault. After about two and a half weeks, though, I somehow found my swing. Suddenly, running wasn't foreign. My physical self stopped fighting back and seemed to accept that this is how we do things now. It got on board with the challenge. After that, although there were days that were harder than others - maybe I was tired, or just wasn't feeling it - my body performed up to expectations, and I got through the challenge.<br />
<br />
Then it was over. As the weeks ticked by, I started counting down until January 2, the day I thought for sure would be my first rest day in six and a half weeks. I couldn't wait to get there so I could take some time off, make some training plans, and get back to reality. Funny thing is, as January 2 got closer and closer, I seemed a bit at a loss. I found that the idea of NOT running come January 2 just seemed wrong. It appears I had created a habit for myself, no less important to me than brushing my teeth in the morning. When I consulted with a friend, who was the inspiration for this challenge having done something similar years before (and who continues to run most days), the answer was RUN MORE. Huh. Okay. So, I continued. And continued. And continued.<br />
<br />
To this day, I have run 96 days in a row, covering no less than three miles a day. (I say "covering" because there have been a few days where I took a few walk breaks here and there.) I have not missed a day. In fact, when the time came to start building a training plan for my first half marathon coming up, I opted to start building a training program around the daily runs. At this point, I have one day a week where I run five miles, my long run day is now officially up to ten miles, and one day a week I make sure to run a very hilly three-mile course. Those are my "workout" days. The rest of the week, my "rest" days consist of slow three-milers, usually on the treadmill.<br />
<br />
I suppose some people would call my three-milers now junk miles, and maybe they are. Maybe I would be better served taking a true rest day, or cross training. But, the thing is - and I'm knocking on wood here - I feel better than I have in a long time. So, what's going on? For someone who could barely run three days in a row, I don't know as I understand how this all works either. My guess is that physically my body "gets" running now. Literally, through building of muscle memory, the actual "running" has become the least of my issues. My body knows what to do. Now, on any given day, I may be tired, or my breathing may be off, but as for my legs - they can run.<br />
<br />
And, I think the consistency of running every day is right for me. Through all my cycles of tendon injury, one thing always seemed clear: my tendons tighten up with inactivity. I have to remain a moving target to stay healthy. Run more.<br />
<br />
Mentally, I love the freedom of running every day. Yes, the FREEDOM. Running only three or four times a week and having that ability to juggle when I ran, THAT was stressful. There was a lot of thought that went into running. Do I run today or tomorrow. Run long today or not. When do I fit in my runs this week. Running every day, all that is gone. Do I run today? The answer is yes. Do I run tomorrow? The answer is yes. How about four days from now? Do I run then? The answer is yes. At some point, I stopped asking the question, because I already knew the answer. The less thought that went into it, the lower the stress levels.<br />
<br />
And, I shouldn't forget the stress of NOT running. The most fundamental answer I can give to someone who might say I'm running a lot of junk miles is that running makes me happy. And I don't mean in some kind of "yay, I got it done way," I mean in a physical endorphins-released, actual measurable-rise-in-contentment way. And, if running makes me happy, shouldn't I run every day? Don't I want to be happy every day? Naturally, the answer is yes.<br />
<br />
So, at this point, I am still running daily. I keep wondering if this day or that will be the day it ends, as it seems clear that it probably will have to end at some point. It's still hard for me to believe that this is going so well. That other shoe has to drop sometime, right? Well, maybe. But, in the meantime, I'm going to try to keep moving. Because, if the question is "what makes you happy?" and the answer is "running," then why wouldn't I want to do more of it?Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-30307390826161161472016-08-19T16:10:00.001-05:002016-08-19T16:18:25.614-05:00Digging Deep and Hitting BottomThe 100-mile finish remains elusive. I am 0 for 2 in my attempts, but I think I understand myself and my motivation a bit better for having tried...again.<br />
<br />
First, I will start out by saying that I am okay with this <i>un</i>-finish. Unlike last year, where I was devastated by my inability to cover 100 miles, this year's race was a long shot to begin with. Tendon injuries going into training gave me a good excuse in the event that things went wrong, because training was never going to be what it shoulda, woulda, coulda been.<br />
<br />
I guess I should gladly grasp at that excuse as my reason for a race not well run and leave it at that, but the truth is that I don't think I really wanted this finish. What I wanted was the start. Let me explain.<br />
<br />
After last year's failed finish, I wasn't even going to do another 100 ever again. But, it wasn't too long before I started feeling a bit differently and shortly after that when I signed up for my second 100-mile attempt at Burning River. For a long time I thought that I really felt compelled to run a 100-mile race, or to at least <i>say</i> I had finished one. But the more I thought about it during my ill-fated march across Ohio, the more I realized that it wasn't the finish that was important to me, it was the start. I had only wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't afraid to try again - to brush the dust off of my first failure, dig in my heels, and give it another go. Actually finishing the race was at best a secondary goal. I always have been more of a journey person than a goal person. (Training for a 100 was fun; running it, not so much. Running on shredded feet and a pulled tendon for 67 miles was fun; suffering through all that for another 33 just to say I had finished, not so much.) <br />
<br />
And, the journey was educational. No, I didn't finish the race. Yes, clearly, I have limits I must face. No, I guess I didn't want it badly enough to gut it out, overcome all the insufficient training and lingering injuries, and persevere despite all. However, what I did do was have the courage to start, knowing that my training was sketchy at best, and knowing I didn't have a track record that would lead me to believe success was in the offing. Dammit, I knew the cards were stacked not in my favor, but ... I. Did. It. Anyway. And, that is worth something, at least to me. <br />
<br />
So, now that I have failed twice, surely I'll go back out and try again, right? After all, I need to prove to myself ... again ... that I don't give up just because of <i>repeated</i> failures, right? Well, not so fast. Because, another epiphany that I had while doing this event, marching into the night on aching feet and pulled tendons, was that I am not ready to complete a 100-miler. <br />
<br />
As someone who suffers from serial injuries, necessary long breaks from running, and the resulting woeful lack of consistent training, it is clear that I need to get stronger both physically and mentally before I can try this again.<br />
<br />
And this shouldn't come as a surprise! After all, when Andy did his first 50-mile event (which was a crazy concept for me at the time!), I told him that I could never run that sort of distance until I could spend that kind of time in my head with myself. You see, for some people (in fact, most of the people I know), running ultras is a social endeavor - an extroverted romp through the landscape hanging with friends or meeting and making new ones...it's a giant party on the move. But that's not me. Not always, anyway.<br />
<br />
For me, long distance running has been more akin to a Zen exercise (or at least an attempt at one) - a moving meditation, a time to go deep inside and see what is there, a time to connect with God or whatever moves this world. In training, I often like to run with friends, but during race events I like to disappear inside myself, to go places in my head and heart that others cannot follow.<br />
<br />
Failing at this second 100-miler attempt, I realized that I am not ready for that kind of distance yet. My spiritual, meditative abilities remain stunted at the 70-ish mile mark and I have not been able to stretch them beyond that point yet. Of course, that is aided and abetted by a body that doesn't really want to go much beyond 35 miles. So, rather than be upset by the DNF, I take it as a lesson in my personal growth. It has shown me where I am at and what I need to work on. I may or may not yet get to the 100-mile distance, but in the meantime I am no less valid as a distance runner - a thought that plagued me after last year's DNF.<br />
<br />
At this point, I have no plans for signing up for yet another 100. Instead, I plan to enjoy shorter longer distances (i.e., marathons, 50Ks, and 50-milers) and really just enjoy the process of digging deeper, getting stronger (and perhaps a tad faster), and working on what is important to me - which is to be healthy and strong for myself and my family, and to be distance running well into my dotage.<br />
<br />
If my journey takes me further than 70 miles one day, so be it. In the meantime, I am happy of the reminder that some things come naturally, and some things you really have to work for. After all, there was a day when 50 miles seemed beyond my abilities, but I have grown into that distance. A 100-miler is most likely not impossible, it's just not now.Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-46824228032521242772016-03-15T09:12:00.000-05:002016-03-15T09:12:59.137-05:00Mt. Taylor 50K Race Report....Um, FinallySo, my husband and I disagree on whose idea it first was to run the <a href="http://mttaylor50k.com/home.php" target="_blank">Mt. Taylor 50K</a>, but whoever the brilliant one was, it's an idea that took hold in both of our minds. So it was that after following the event on Facebook for a couple of years, in 2015 the vacation stars aligned just enough so that we could sign up.<br />
<br />
Part of the reason for Mt. Taylor's allure was certainly timing. After all, it takes place right around our anniversary, and what better way for an ultra-loving couple to celebrate their wedded bliss but by an ultra? (I could probably draw a metaphor between ultra running and marriage, but I'll spare you...for now.) Aside from the anniversary angle and the fact that I just liked the idea of traveling to New Mexico as I had never been before, there was a cultural backstory to this event that I felt drawn to.<br />
<br />
Mt. Taylor is considered one of the four sacred peaks to the Navajo people, the other three being Mt. Hesperus, Mt. Blanca, and San Fransisco Peak. When I read in the race literature that the race would begin at daybreak, so as to run in the Navajo tradition of running east to greet the rising sun, I just had a feeling this was something that would be completely unique to my experience, and something I wanted to take part in. Despite having a small slice of Native American heritage in my background, I cannot claim to know much, if anything, about the Native American history, cultures, or peoples of our country, and I saw this as an opportunity to learn. Proceeds from the race go to the Nideiltihi Native Elite Runners (NNER). <br />
<br />
The Mt. Taylor 50K was scheduled for September 26, 2015. After flying into Phoenix the night before, we arrived in Grants, New Mexico, on Friday afternoon. Grants, a small town of about 10,000 people, is about 70 miles west of Albuquerque. My first impression of Grants was of a small town suffering somewhere on the mild-to-severe scale of economic depression - not unlike a lot of small towns in the U.S. Of course, that was just a quick first impression. In all honesty, Grants could have been the most charming town in the world, but I would not have noticed. My impression was carved out of a quick drive in to our hotel (the Red Lion Hotel - official race hotel), a pizza dinner at Surf Shack Pizza after the race (very tasty, by the way), and the drive back out Sunday. However, even if it would offer nothing else, Grants has what they call <i>location, location, location</i>. Situated in New Mexico's high desert and surrounded by the Cibola National Forest, in Grants you find yourself within driving range of a number of national monuments, forests, and historical parks in New Mexico, not to mention some of Arizona's finest treasures - such as the Grand Canyon and Petrified Forest. <br />
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<b>Packet Pickup</b><br />
<br />
The first order of business after checking into the Red Lion Hotel was to go to packet pickup. Set up conveniently in the hotel, it was a short walk. Among other things, our packet included a shirt, socks, and some other goodies.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PKd0JXCEHjU/VtxiOPgGqPI/AAAAAAAAAkg/_2SYvgWp3BM/s1600/20150925_175416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PKd0JXCEHjU/VtxiOPgGqPI/AAAAAAAAAkg/_2SYvgWp3BM/s640/20150925_175416.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back of shirt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Tables were set up with race information and town and regional information. There were plenty of volunteers there to answer questions. At packet pickup we were also encouraged to pick up a colored dot
sticker to wear on our clothing if we were in need of a ride to the
startline the next morning. Another colored dot differentiated those who needed a ride from
those who had room in their car to give rides. Although it goes against
my nature to seek rides from strangers, the idea of taking our
economy-sized rental car up the twisting and winding mountain road, some
of which was advertised as economy-car-eating rutted gravel, did not
appeal. So, I proudly wore my dot in the hopes of catching a ride. <br />
<br />
<b>Pasta Dinner </b><br />
<br />
Seeing as Grants was such a small town and we didn't know what would be available, the husband and I had selected to pay for the pasta dinner. So, when doors opened we were among the first to filter in, grab some food from the buffet of pasta, marinara (or meat sauce), baked potato, bread, salad, and a dessert. Drinks available were lemonade and water. <br />
<br />
At the dinner, there were the usual talks given by area officials welcoming runners and some tips and directives from the race director and staff, but it is the featured speaker which makes the dinner stand out in my mind, even months later.<br />
<br />
Shaun Martin was the winner of the inaugural Mt. Taylor 50K in 2012 and race director of the <a href="http://www.canyondechellyultra.com/" target="_blank">Canyon de Chelly Ultra</a>. Being Navajo, Martin's talk centered around his roots. He gave a moving talk about what running means to the Navajo people, his family's history with running, and a brief talk about the four sacred mountains. At this late juncture, I cannot do justice to Martin's talk, if ever I could. What I do know is that I left the pasta dinner that evening feeling just a little bit wiser, a little bit humbled to be a part of such a meaningful event, and a whole lot pumped up and ready to tackle whatever would come the next day.<br />
<br />
Before leaving the pasta dinner, the husband and I managed to secure a ride - not from the dot system so carefully implemented by the race staff - but rather a very nice
Grants couple who just happened to be sitting at the same table with us and who were willing and able to give us a ride to the start.
So, although they would have to get up a bit earlier to drive back to
the hotel to collect us in the morning, they did offer to pick us up at
o'dark thirty. <br />
<br />
<b>The Race</b><br />
<br />
The alarm woke us up early the next morning so that we could get up, eat breakfast (free to Red Lion Hotel guests!), and be ready to catch our ride to the 6:30 a.m. start. Because the cynic in me worried that we would be forgotten on the doorstep of the hotel, I was already making contingency plans when our ride - the nice couple from the evening before - showed up to start us on our journey.<br />
<br />
The ride to the start is, as advertised, a good 40-minute drive up a twisting, winding mountain road, the last five miles of which is gravel, the last several hundred yards of which is hardly a road - pitted as it is by huge potholes, deep ruts, and littered with football-sized rocks. In other words, if you don't have a high-rise vehicle and four-wheel drive, you would be better off parking further down the road and resigning yourself to a hike in to the start. As it was, our driver's pickup truck seemed more than adequate to the chassis-challenging task of navigating the last couple hundreds of yards to prime parking. <br />
<br />
At that early hour, it was extremely dark on the mountain despite the strands of lights the race crew had
managed to string around the start area. We
found our headlamps helpful for getting around - from car to start to
porta-potties, etc. After getting organized, dropping our 16-mile drop bags, and using the porta-potties one last time, it was time to go.<br />
<br />
Since the race was following the Navajo tradition of running east into the rising sun, the start was timed to coincide with daybreak. As we began, it was still dark enough that a headlamp seemed prudent but probably would not have been <i>absolutely</i> necessary as it wasn't too long before there was enough light to see by. <br />
<br />
Starting out, I knew the race would be hard. I was under no illusion that it would not be, if for no other reason than the elevation. The entire event - all 31 miles - were to be run between 9,000 and 11,305 feet with 7,000 feet of vertical change! So, distance aside, coming from Northeast Wisconsin, where the elevation is 700 feet, I knew elevation would be a challenge. I told myself I was going to take it easy. I had plenty of time to get in under the eleven and a half hour cutoff. But, I wanted to run, too. I didn't realize how much that lack of oxygen was going to suck the run right out of me.<br />
<br />
Being the introvert that I am, I don't know how I did it, but I somehow managed to talk my way into running with the couple who had given us our ride as well as a friend of theirs. They were planning to start out slowly (the gentleman had run the race before and said a conservative start was the way to go). They were very welcoming about me hanging out with them (or tolerant). The husband of course started more towards the front and was prepared to give it his all, as is his wont.<br />
<br />
As the race started, we did indeed start out quite slowly. In fact, we walked pretty much all of the first three miles since they went up, up, up. A lot of that was through the trees, but by the time we emerged from the forest, the view expanded and we could see the sun had risen up beyond the mountains. As promised, it was a fantastic sight!<br />
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After taking in the expansive views, it was time to make the last slow-marching push up the first looong and steady climb.With the summit in sight, I was ready to change things up and actually run for a bit.<br />
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The first aid station came up at around mile 4.5. By then, I needed to
use the porta-potty, but sadly they did not have any. Nature, they
pointed to, was all around. And, indeed, most people in need were
trotting off over a slight ridge behind the aid station to do their
business. And, aside from that there was a toilet behind every tree. Um, no thanks. Not being a
huge fan of nature squats, I took comfort in the trees being there and thought I
would just press on, and if needed stop and squat when desperate.<br />
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After that first big climb which ended shortly before the first aid station, we were finally able to run steadily. And, until about mile 10 we trotted along at a modest pace. <br />
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To be honest, at this point, I was pretty pleased that I could run at all. I had run at elevation before (only 7,500 feet, to be exact) and I remember how that had sapped the energy out of me, feeling as I had that I was wearing an old-fashioned corset around my rib cage. To be able to run at all for any length of time during this event, I'm not afraid to say it...I felt pretty badass.<br />
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Seeing as they were local, the group I was running with did not have the same oxygen issues that I was having. They seemed quite comfortable maintaining a slow steady jog (averaging about
11-minute miles), walking only on the steepest inclines. I, on the other hand, found it necessary to stop quite frequently and walk a bit to catch my breath. This seemed to work out, though, since my natural running
pace seemed faster than theirs. I would drop
back to take a quick walk break (and gasp for air!)
and then run and invariably catch up. I'd hang on for as long as I could
before I had to walk again to catch my breath.<br />
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This part of the run was quite pretty, albeit without the stellar views. We alternately ran through wooded forests and open spaces. Pine and aspen were all around. It was lovely. At this point, we were on a lot of rutted jeep roads, which had been washed out in previous rains, so there were a LOT of large rocks and ruts to navigate, which slowed our progress considerably. But, all in all, it went well and I felt fairly good. Relatively speaking, of course. At about mile 10, we came into a valley at the end of which was another fully stocked aid station. They even had a porta-potty. Hurray! After doing my business and availing myself of the amenities, it was time to check out. I was still hanging on with the little group at this point, but that would soon end.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aid station at Mile 10.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-huFdNoUSMOg/Vt7xTL27jhI/AAAAAAAAAmo/Pg7tTw8lXZ8/s1600/20150926_090454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-huFdNoUSMOg/Vt7xTL27jhI/AAAAAAAAAmo/Pg7tTw8lXZ8/s640/20150926_090454.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A look down the valley from Aid Station at Mile 10. Still happy!</td></tr>
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At about mile 11.5, the race course took us off of the gravel jeep road we had been on for much of the race so far and turned us on to the Continental Divide Trail, which we would follow for the next eight miles or so. Sweet single track! It was fantastic!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Continental Divide Trail</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Through the aspen groves</td></tr>
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It was turning onto the Continental Divide Trail that I finally had to let my little group, which had pulled me along for a full third of the race, go. Their ability to steadily chug up the smaller inclines (not to mention the fact that they were more acclimatized to the elevation than I could ever hope to be!) gave them a definite edge. I realized that it was becoming way too much of a struggle to stick with them, so I started falling back. I was sad to do this, because they had been such nice company. I got a bit of a lesson, listening to them talk about local goings-ons, events, gossip, and such, as well as learned more about the Native American culture and life in New Mexico.<br />
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After losing my posse, I struggled to keep myself moving forward with purpose. Any sort of incline knocked the air right out of my lungs, so soon I found it hard to run for any length of time whatsoever. I ended up doing short little 20-50 foot spurts of a run, followed by an indefinite length of slow-march trudging to catch my breath. It was pretty, though!<br />
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At mile 16, I made it back into the halfway point aid station....this was back at the start/finish area. Although they had quite a spread there, I really did not want to linger too long, so I probably did not eat as much as I should have. The first place finisher came in right around this time, which only added to my sense of urgency to get the heck out of there and keep going. And I just didn't want to make this an all day affair. It already had taken me just over four hours to go 16 miles, and I knew there was still a long way to go with a couple of brutal climbs still ahead.<br />
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Heading out of the aid station, there were a couple of people around me, and they looked about as pooped as I felt. At that point, no one seemed to be too chatty; perhaps we had all fallen into that zone of misery and resignation when you realize that you signed up for something that is flipping hard but there really isn't a choice but to keep going.<br />
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Right as I was about to get back on the Continental Divide trail from the aid station, a couple of volunteers directing runners and cheering us on asked me if I had seen any wildlife yet. (They actually said that like that would have been a good thing!) I said, <i>um no. Thank God. </i>You see, the night before at the pasta dinner, we had been given a nice little lecture about the local fauna, the upshot of which was: <i>don't wear headphones so you can hear a bear or mountain lion before they surprise you. </i>That was it. That was the extent of their advice. After that, I was only able to go through with the event because I had decided to do a mental finger-in-ear-la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you thing. The volunteer's question snapped me out of that self-deception, so I stopped and asked her what should I do if I saw something bigger than myself and furry. But she just laughed my question off. (I think she thought I was joking.) She said, <i>oh, just ignore them and they would ignore me.</i> Um, right. Those New Mexicans, I tell you. They're made of sterner stuff than I. <br />
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So, continuing the race, I ran when I could (which meant I walked much of the time), and walked when I couldn't (which meant I death-marched slowly much of the time). At about mile 19.5, the course left the Continental Divide Trail and put me on a jeep road again. This stretch would be about a mile and a half long before we would finally turn on the trail that would take us to the summit of Mt. Taylor. Don't look up, advised the sign. I looked up. And groaned.<br />
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So, you would think looking at this nice, flat stretch of road I would have been able to run a bit more consistently, but I couldn't. I wish I could have, but by this time I felt like the stuffing had been knocked out of me. It was too hard to breathe, and I had struggled too much already. I was almost 20 miles into this race, and I still had a good 11 more to go. If you <i>are </i>able to run at this point consistently, it is a good place to do it. As it was, I just moseyed along, running here and there but mostly in la-la land just moving forward slowly. I did pass a big pickup truck with a bunch of dogs on it and a couple of men. I was mildly curious about that but did not bother to ask about it. And, it is a good thing I didn't as I found out a couple of days later from the husband that he <i>had</i> asked and found out there had been a bear sighting, so the dogs and men were there to try to chase it off or round it up. Oh boy.<br />
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At mile 21, you get to the Gooseberry aid station. This is the last aid station until the Caldera Rim aid station at mile 25. The path between the two is an amazingly beautiful trail that goes up, up, up, and up to the summit of Mt. Taylor. Now, having done Pikes Peak in the past, as well as other mountain marches, I really did not anticipate the suffer fest that was to come.<br />
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The march up to Mt. Taylor I can only describe as sheer and utter, agonizing misery. I'm sorry. I guess I should dress it up a bit, but honestly I cannot think of a time when I have felt more out of it during a race. Even the last 20 miles of my failed 100 (so, between miles 50 and 70) were not as all-encompassing miserable as this slow and painful death march. During the 100, my pain was localized to body parts - blisters on the feet, IT band that was finally getting grumpy, sore quads, etc. During the Mt. Taylor 50K, I just felt generally like some ominous invisible force was pressing me down trying to keep me in one spot. Mainly, I just couldn't breathe, and the lack of oxygen was no doubt playing havoc on what my muscles felt like they could do. I slow-walked up that mountain like molasses trying to drip uphill. I would literally trudge a few steps and then stop to catch my breath, leaning heavily on my trekking poles before starting to trudge a few steps again.<br />
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I can't even begin to describe all the thoughts going through my head during that climb. Even through the filter of several months' time, I still feel the intense level of despair that flooded me during those few miles. Looking up and seeing what I thought was the summit and how far I had to go, and wanting to cry over the work still ahead of me. The fact that I couldn't breathe well. The fact that I had no energy reserves to call upon. The idea that I had it in my head that we had to go up this mountain twice and this was just the first climb! (That was wrong, by the way.) The fact that I couldn't move faster if I wanted to. The thought that this climb was never, ever, never, EVER going to end.<br />
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And then it did!<br />
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Quicker than I expected, the summit was there....and an official photographer. Say cheese!<br />
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The only thing that got me through this climb was the beauty. Nothing will take away from that. It was simply a stunning locale, and I so appreciate the ability to be able to do things like this and take it all in.<br />
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Heading off the summit, I immediately perked up. I don't know if it was the added oxygen I gained with every step I took on the way down, or maybe it was the high I felt having accomplished something that was so darn hard. Either way, I was virtually flying heading down the trail. (Okay, "flying" is relative, but I did feel pretty darn good.) I was even in a chatty mood. I exchanged pleasantries with more than one runner during my brief descent, and it wasn't too long before I got to the Mile 25 aid station.<br />
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At Caldera Rim the volunteers were in a jovial mood, and it was there that I learned my skewed perception of reality (namely, that I would never finish the race in time) was wrong. I was doing fine on time: not fast but with plenty of time to make the finish-line cutoff. It was also there that I learned that the next climb wasn't actually a repeat up Mount Taylor as I had somehow thought. (I cannot even explain how elated I was by that news. Even the fact that I would have to do another steeper - but much shorter climb - in a few miles could not put a damper on my mood.) So, out of that aid station I headed to tackle a four-mile loop that would ultimately lead me back to the Caldera Rim aid station.<br />
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The first three miles of the loop were not too bad. Mostly, it was either downhill or flat. I ran as much of it as I could, but again that is relative so it probably wasn't as much as I would have liked. At about the three-mile mark of this loop, the trail took a turn up a steep, one-mile climb back to the aid station. While I can't say this climb was any more palatable than the last one had been, it was shorter and it also had the added appeal of being the last major climb of the race. Also, it is at this point that I fell in behind another runner. We got to talking, and that helped pass the time.<br />
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Before I knew it, we were back at the Caldera Rim aid station. From here it was a short two-mile "victory lap" to the finish. But, wait! There was more after all. Not too long after passing the aid station and turning towards the finish, there was a downhill so steep that even digging in my trekking poles I could barely arrest my forward momentum. I managed to skid down a good portion of it and thought it a cruel joke on quads that were already pretty much shot. After such a long day, it was certainly a tough grind down the hill to "greener," more easily navigable pastures but I considered it as paying my final dues before the finish.<br />
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My new-found friend and I stuck out the rest of the race together. She couldn't manage more than a painfully slow jog, due to some leg issues. In fact, her jog was so slow I was able to fast walk next to her, which amazed her no end. (I don't think she realized exactly how slowly she was running. But, hey. Whatever gets you through.) New Friend did encourage me to run ahead, since by this point I was actually feeling pretty good. Sadly, though, that feel good was only physical. Mentally, I had played all the cards I had and I was quite happy to hang out with her. The company and the talk were much more valuable to me at that point than a slightly earlier finish.<br />
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Finally, after so many hours on the trail, we made it back to where it had all begun so many hours before. I did have enough oomph to run into the finish where I found my husband, the small circle of new running buddies I had made at the start of the day (who were also our ride back to town!), and the winner of the overall race, whom I had seen finish about five hours before. They were all just hanging out waiting for me. Well, not the winner. He was there just to cheer folks on and chat with everyone.<br />
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As a female finisher of this event, I got not only my medal, but was also able to pick out a handmade Navajo bracelet made by the race director's wife and friend. <br />
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All in all, this was a really tough race, but one that had a fantastic story behind it. It was hard, but with the passing of time, there is a part of me that wouldn't be opposed to trying it again. I know that I have limitations placed on me just because of the elevation, but the sheer beauty of the region far overshadows any of the perceived pain. Additionally, I don't think I have ever run a race where the hometown feel, the overriding friendliness of the people who put it on and the fellow participants just outshone anything else.<br />
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Happy Running!<br />
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<b>A few more pictures from the event: </b><br />
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-51603984146685839812016-03-14T15:27:00.000-05:002016-03-15T08:34:55.697-05:00The promise of SPRINGFor years and years, a neighbor of ours has held a 60-degree party. Regardless of day of week or what else seemed to be going on, on that first day in the late winter/early spring when the mercury reached above 60 degrees, the neighbors would get together for an impromptu cookout in said neighbor's driveway. It seems like most years we have missed it just because we haven't been paying attention. This year, however, the neighbors didn't have their party. And while I am a bit sad at this lapse in tradition, we did make sure our little family got out to enjoy the day.<br />
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Saturday turned out to be a beautiful, sunny day, and the temperatures did indeed top out just over 60 degrees. So, while all the kids in the neighborhood, including ours, ran around and did whatever it is that kids do outside on the first warm day of the year, the husband took off on his 36-mile training run. Lucky him!<br />
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I would have loved to go out and run, but since I am still not running I took the bike out instead. Ten miles on my heavy hybrid were enough to get the heart pumping and the quads aching a bit, so I would call that successful. There were a number of times I thought I should stop and get a picture, but then just kept going. So, in the end, I only have this one picture to show for my first sunny-day bike ride of the year. I thought it turned out pretty artsy, though!<br />
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As soon as I got home, I barely had time to change clothes and grab a snack before we headed out again to join some friends at a local park. There the kids rammed around in the woods and up and down a small hill. They got muddy and worn out, and it was just great fun. We wrapped up the two-hour outing with a 1.5-mle (or so) walk on this boardwalk. I didn't even know this existed, so what a lovely surprise it was to find it!<br />
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<br />
These early days of spring (or in this case last days of winter) need to be embraced, because they are short-lived. Sunday it was back to overcast skies, temps in the 40s, and even some rain. In other words, blah weather. Probably because of that, I didn't mind going to the gym to tackle my planned two-hour workout. I was curious to see how it would go with the stitches, as towards the end of my 1.5-hour workout the Sunday before I could definitely feel them pulling. Yesterday, however, after an hour and ten minutes on the elliptical and 50 minutes on the recumbent bike, all was still well. I didn't feel the stitches pull at all, which made me very happy. I can't wait to get the little buggers out tomorrow, though!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For posterity</td></tr>
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After working out, I got home to find the husband and kids all ready to head out the door to the climbing wall. Although I miss climbing, I am not ready to cram my feet into my climbing shoes yet, so I wished them well. The rest of the day was grocery shopping, cleaning, and cooking dinner for my parents, which we then all enjoyed together that evening.<br />
<br />
Actually, the dinner turned out really good. A friend had sent a link to a lentil and black bean taco recipe, which I am ashamed to say confused me at first. I wasn't sure if the mix was supposed to be served as soup or served inside tacos. Since said friend is on vacation currently, I couldn't very well ask, so I decided to do both. Soup for the adults; tacos for the kids. Okay, okay. The latter of which was just an attempt to mask the lentil and black bean mix, since I knew they would never eat it on its own. So, I smothered it in cheese and lettuce and slapped it on taco shells and called it good. They ate it, but declined seconds. The adults thought the soup was delicious, though! And, I must be thinking spring and summer and warmer weather, because I also bought and served fresh strawberries and ice cream for dessert. Normally, I am NOT a fan of strawberries out of season, so I can only explain this lapse in judgement on wishing for a change in the weather. As expected, the berries did not taste as good as they will once they are in season and local, but they were good enough to please the less finicky among us (and I didn't even think they were all bad.)<br />
<br />
Today is another blah day weather-wise. It seems the sun is trying to peek out a bit, but mostly it seems content to hide behind the clouds and wait for another day to come out and play. After my typical oatmeal breakfast, I hit the rowing machine for 30 minutes of easy effort rowing, which then turned into 45 minutes of easy effort rowing, so that I could finish an episode of Downton Abbey I was watching on the Roku. Sad, I know, but it got me another couple thousand meters down my imaginary river!<br />
<br />
Happy Running! Or Rowing....Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-86576758861248000432016-03-12T12:07:00.004-06:002016-03-12T12:07:50.269-06:00You had one job, Mom......and you blew it.<br />
<br />
Well, I have a crapload of guilt resting on my shoulders right now. Today was summer school sign up for the kiddos and I failed to get online at the opening bell, which of course means that everything is now filled. I know, I know. If you're like me, you probably think of summer school as punishment, being sentenced to weeks of remedial reading, writing, and math and other drudgery while staring out the window at sunshine and other kids playing and having fun.<br />
<br />
Oh, so not so. My kids LOVE summer school. It starts mere days after regular school gets out for the summer and it involves many hours a day - at school - for many weeks. And, while they do have remedial reading, writing, and math for those who need it, what my kids look forward to are the arts and crafts classes, Star Wars-themed jedi training, theater, sports, cooking, gardening, games, you name it. Anything that would be remotely fun to a kid is offered. And. They. LOVE. It.<br />
<br />
And. I. Missed. Signup.<br />
<br />
By 45 minutes.<br />
<br />
All the fun stuff was gone.<br />
<br />
Oh, the guilt.<br />
<br />
I am really not looking forward to breaking the news. Not to mention, now that they are NOT doing summer school as I have been planning for months and months (I even did have it on my calendar; how I missed it this morning, I'll never understand), I now have to scramble to figure out what they WILL be doing this summer. Luckily, we live in an active-minded community, so I am thinking between parkour, swim, karate camp, and more, we should come up with something. I just can't deal with that right now, though. Later. <br />
<br />
So, besides all that, life is just hunky dory in an I-am-not-running kind of way. My husband is currently out running a 36-mile training run (yes, you read that right), and two friends are heading out to run some trails, and I am sitting here wondering when and if I will be able to run again. I do have that marathon in three weeks after all. Ugh. On the bright side, I at least do get my stitches out on Tuesday, so I am hoping to get more information then. I know the doctor said it would be iffy to run even after the stitches are out since the scar would only be at 15-percent strength, but I am hoping that if I tape the skin oh-so-carefully together that I might be able to get back at it. I guess I'll know more in three days.<br />
<br />
As for today, I can look back on a week that hasn't been that productive. After my good intentions for taking a second walk on Wednesday (since last I posted), I failed in that endeavor. Instead, I headed to our running club's fun run and took pictures for the event. Mostly, I just wanted the free wine that was part of the program. The run itself was fantastic with over 100 people turning out for it! Who would have thought. I think the venue was a little overwhelmed, but hopefully we made up for it in business. I just enjoyed socializing with my running friends, especially now that I am off of Facebook, the wine and pizza.<br />
<br />
Thursday promised to be a bit of a bust exercise-wise, but I managed to crank out an hour on the rowing machine. I have to say since doing all the rock climbing in the gym rowing has definitely become a lot easier. Yesterday, instead of finding some sort of cross-training to do, I went out to breakfast with my neighbor and ate stuffed French toast and hashbrowns....probably counter productive to the whole exercise thing....but really darn delicious.<br />
<br />
Happy Running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-89478013748629660512016-03-09T12:37:00.002-06:002016-03-09T12:40:21.848-06:00Ready to run, but happy to walkI am getting antsy to get training again. Not just run. Train. It's hard to see <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Pearl Izumis want to run!</td></tr>
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your training plan go down in flames. What's worse, however, is feeling like you are ready to put out the fire and move on but you still have to wait just a wee bit more.<br />
<br />
It's been a week (and a day) since I had that pesky mole removed on my foot. Thankfully, the news that came back was good: no further treatment is necessary; they removed all the "abnormal" cells. Hooray! So, now I am ready to get back into things again - to pick up the shattered pieces of my good intentions and put them back together. But wait! I have to allow the skin more time to heal. It wouldn't do to bust the stitches at this juncture and have to start all over AGAIN. So, here I sit. Getting antsy.<br />
<br />
I would not say I have been the best post-surgical patient. Although I have not run at all, I did only give the foot three days off before I started cross-training again. Here's what my week post incision has looked like:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Tuesday: Minor surgical procedure/rest/DUH!<br />
Wednesday: REST<br />
Thursday: REST<br />
Friday: REST<br />
Saturday: 30 minutes rowing; 2-mile walk<br />
Sunday: 60 minutes elliptical; 30 minutes recumbent bike<br />
Monday: 45 minutes rowing<br />
Tuesday: REST<br />
Wednesday (today): 30-minute walk</blockquote>
I hope to follow up that 30-minute walk this morning with another 30-45 minutes this evening.<br />
<br />
With the incision being on my foot, and with the fact that I only look
at it once a day when I change the bandage, I have to go completely by
feel in regards to whether or not I am "pushing things." At this point, though, it does seem that recovery is going well. In fact, except for the longer workout on Sunday (when I definitely could feel the stitches tugging towards the end), I feel fine. <br />
<br />
So, here I sit and kind of sort of keep things going with cross-training. Otherwise, I have been using this time to get things a bit more organized around the house, catching up with appointments, meeting up with friends when I can, playing referee between the kiddos, and filling out paperwork for another temp job I have coming up in another couple of weeks. In fact, it's been busy enough that I wonder how I will fit the running in again once I get the all clear. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess.<br />
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So, in the meantime, Northeast Wisconsin is enjoying a beautiful early, pre-Spring thaw. Here are some pictures from my walk this morning:<br />
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Happy Running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-33069035917097585842016-03-03T20:28:00.000-06:002016-03-03T20:28:59.291-06:00Why Lent?Yesterday I headed over to the coffee shop where our local running club holds its Wednesday morning runs. With my wounded left foot in tow, I knew I would not be able to run, but I was determined not to miss out on the camaraderie of the coffee klatsch that typically follows. After four months of not being able to participate due to my temporary employment, I felt I had already missed enough.<br />
<br />
It was great to be able to catch up with my friends whom I have only seen sporadically since last year. And, now that I am off of Facebook, I really felt that in talking with my friends, for once, I really had news to share. It felt nice to honestly be able to fill my friends in on what was happening in my life and to hear about what was going on in theirs.<br />
<br />
Of course, after rehashing my foot story for the third or fourth time (as people filtered in, got their coffee, and then finally sat down and invariably asked why I hadn't run), I realized that the joy in Facebook would have been simply broadcasting my foot news far and wide - and all in one fell swoop. It's not so much that I minded telling everyone over and over again. (In fact, it gave me an inflated sense of self-importance, if I am honest.) But I did feel sorry for the first couple of people I had told the story to, as they got to hear it again - over and over. Welcome to a non-Facebook world, I guess!<br />
<br />
So, it's been three weeks since I gave up Facebook for Lent. Hard to believe. The time has both flown by and dragged by in equal measure. Conversation with one of my friends yesterday, and a further e-mail exchange on the matter, got me thinking about this entire Lenten challenge for myself. Why did I do it?<br />
<br />
Lent as part of a religious season is not something I
observe. I am not Catholic, but a rather lax (if not lapsed) Lutheran. However,
If I am going to give something up, I like the idea of doing so at Lent
for a number of reasons: it is long enough to be uncomfortable but yet
it has an end date. And, it is understood by most people. So when I say I
am giving up XYZ for Lent, they get it. I can forego any lengthy
explanations as to the whys and what fors.<br />
<br />
The
texts I have read (read: Internet articles) describe Lent as a time of
fasting. The idea of giving up something more - beyond the traditional fasting - is a relatively newer concept. As to why I personally do it, I like
this quote from Catholic Online's <i>FAQs about Lent</i> page at http://www.catholic.org/clife/lent/faq.php:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lent is about
conversion, turning our lives more completely over to Christ and his way
of life. That always involves giving up sin in some form. The goal is
not just to abstain from sin for the duration of Lent but to root sin
out of our lives forever. Conversion means leaving behind an old way of
living and acting in order to embrace new life in Christ. For
catechumens, Lent is a period intended to bring their initial conversion
to completion.</blockquote>
While I may not whole-heartedly embrace
the religious overtones of this, I do believe this is a good,
well-defined time to make a change.<br />
<br />
The last time I was moved to give up something for Lent was several years ago, and the "vice" was chocolate. I had gotten into the habit of eating the candy every day, and I was thinking it was becoming more of an addiction than an indulgence. I was looking to make a change. <br />
<br />
When I give something up for Lent (or if I were to add a good behaviour instead!), I am not doing so for these few weeks only to go
back to my old habits or behaviors once Easter rolls around. Rather, as is stated in the quote above, I am looking for a more permanent conversion to come out of this.<br />
<br />
I am denying myself this candy or that behavior in the hopes of
coming back to it a new person. I hope to bring that item, denied to me for so many weeks, back into my life with a new outlook. In this particular instance, I want to get back to Facebook with a healthier and more balanced approach to my social media usage.<br />
<br />
This did work
for chocolate, by the way. The habit I had had of indulging in chocolate
daily was broken and remains broken to this day. I eat it now and again, but it is not something I <i>crave</i> anymore. I am hoping that will
happen with Facebook too. It was important to remind myself that
there are other ways to communicate with friends and family and there are other ways to squander away my free time. In this
case, I needed to relearn OLD habits.<br />
<br />
So, I guess, if Lent is to be a time of reflection, then it is working for me. I certainly have spent a lot of time thinking about how I interact with people and what I value in others' interactions with me, and I think I will carry that new found (re-found?) knowledge going forward.<br />
<br />
Do you give up anything for Lent? Take on new habits? Try new things? What do you think about this challenge? Let me know!<br />
<br />
In the meantime, happy running! Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-59829116567318982612016-03-02T14:44:00.002-06:002016-03-02T14:44:16.098-06:00Just a little minor foot surgery to kick off 100-mile trainingAs I have just been reminded, in running, as in life, timing can be everything. After weeks of aggravation and uncertainty caused by a pulled calf muscle and an IT band and quad strain, I was finally starting to feel more confident in my running. Now, there seems to be another setback, this one handed to me by something no bigger than an oversized freckle. <br />
<br />
It all began almost two weeks ago when I went to the dermatologist to get an annual skin cancer screen. Out of all the sunspots, freckles, and moles that occupy my skin and make it that unique palette I can call my own, one little spot caught the attention of the good doctor. I am not quite sure what set this one spot apart from all the rest, but I can say it is the self same spot that had caught my attention as well and prompted me to schedule a skin screening in the first place. Unhappily, this spot was located squarely on top of my left foot.<br />
<br />
Almost two weeks ago when I went in the dermatologist gave me the choice to let it go and we would check it again in a few months or to scrape it off and biopsy it to see if there was any concern. I opted for the latter, figuring that if there was anything to it better now than in a few months when I would - with any luck - be deep into 100-mile training. Well, it turns out there was something to it. The mole did not prove to be skin cancer, thankfully, but it was termed severely abnormal, meaning it could grow into something more sinister if left to its own devices. Because they couldn't be sure they had gotten everything with the initial removal, I was scheduled to go in yesterday and have the skin surrounding the newly formed scab more completely excised. This meant about a one-inch incision and a good chunk of skin removed. And, it meant about eight stitches in two layers. Sadly, it turns out, that eight stitches on the top of one's foot limits running ... indefinitely.<br />
<br />
Okay, that sounded dramatic. Actually, by "indefinitely," I simply mean I am not sure when I will be able to start up again. In an ideal world, according to my surgical dermatologist, I would not strain the foot for the next six weeks. So, you can imagine his surprise (read: mild shock) when I said I actually had a marathon scheduled for four weeks hence and a long run for two weeks earlier. After raising his eyebrows and giving me a look that I can only describe as quietly assessing and mildly resigned, says my doc, <i>well, since you are probably going to run anyway, you should invest in some kinesio tape and make sure to tape the skin on top of the foot together so as not to pull apart the stitches or newly formed scar tissue - when that time comes</i> (which, according to him, will be no sooner than two weeks from yesterday). And, I need to exercise my common sense before starting any activity to assess whether said activity will cause too much tension in the upper foot.<br />
<br />
So, there I have it. After yesterday's minor surgery, I left the office and came home to a driveway that needed to be shoveled, which I did. After that, I rested the foot as much as possible and made plans to do some rowing on the rowing machine today. As it turns out, I learned I should never make plans for exercise when, in fact, it turns out the foot has been pumped full of pain-reducing chemicals. Waking up in the night and discovering that <strike>someone had stabbed an ice pick through my foot</strike> the drugs had worn off, I decided maybe a few days of post-op recovery/rest would be in order. So, that is where I am at. At this point, I will play things by ear, but I am thinking I will be looking at 3-7 days of inactivity, followed by cross-training. Once I get the stitches removed in 13 days, I will look at cautiously starting up running again. <br />
<br />
I suppose I could get all bent out of shape about this development, and I suppose I am a bit. It would be unrealistic to think this isn't going to impact the marathon next month or even the 50-miler after that in May. But, to be honest, I prefer to focus on what I am grateful for:<br />
<ol>
<li>If I am going to have something like this happen, then better now - when my 100-Miler is still six months out. </li>
<li>I am grateful for the fact that this is "just" a skin issue. (It's not like I had surgery on the muscles, tendons, or bones of the foot, after all.) </li>
<li>I am grateful I had one really good long run beforehand (I ran 15.5 miles Sunday and felt pretty darn fantastic throughout and after!!! Woot!!!) </li>
<li>Given all the turbulence the past few weeks, I am guessing that with this enforced rest any remaining IT band, quad, calf, what-have-you issues should iron themselves out, so when I do resume running I am mildly optimistic that I will do so feeling pretty good. </li>
<li>Finally, I am grateful that this was caught early enough that hopefully the extent of any intervention is limited to this minor surgical procedure.</li>
</ol>
All in all, I just choose to be optimistic. I will do what I can and go from there. I cannot change the path that I am on, so I will march forward on it as happily as I can. Hopefully, whatever your path is, you are marching on it happily too.<br />
<br />
Happy running! Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-63127455738298866662016-02-25T12:30:00.003-06:002016-02-25T12:30:57.883-06:00First marathon of the year coming up too soonMy first marathon of the year - the Trailbreaker Marathon in Waukesha - is coming up in just over five weeks, and the build-up to it sure has not gone according to plan. By now, I should have had a couple of 20-milers behind me, but as it is I have only managed one 14-miler and that was several weeks ago. Remarkably, I am quite calm about this state of affairs, although I couldn't say exactly why.<br />
<br />
I guess it helps that I have an ultra hubby who keeps reminding me to not lose sight of the big goal - my 100-miler in August. It helps, too, to have ultra friends who encourage me to be patient and remind me there is still plenty of time to train. <i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>Keep calm and carry on. </i><br />
<br />
That hasn't been my official motto or anything, but it sums up my mindset nicely. Of course, if things don't turn around soon, that unofficial motto could very well turn into <i>Panic now and lose all hope</i>.<br />
<br />
As it is, running got off to a rocky start this past week. I had had such high hopes of doing a longer run last weekend, but I really just wasn't feeling it. I was tired and my quad was still sore from pulling it a bit last Thursday, so I opted out. It's not an easy choice when you decide to just scrap a run, especially with a race looming on the calendar. However, what good would it do me to push myself when I am not ready? Chances are good I would just hurt myself worse. I need to keep reminding myself to listen to my body and not try to "make up" any lost runs. What's gone is gone. Time to focus on the future, and for me that really means the 100-Miler.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong! I had been looking forward to running the Trailbreaker Marathon for its own merits, but now that it is obvious that this first marathon is not going to allow for my best effort, I need to keep it in perspective. It is just the first in a long series of races that I am using for training runs, designed to get me across the finish line of my 100-mile event in August. That's all. So, so what if the marathon doesn't go well? In fact, it <i>won't</i> go well in the classic sense. I can't race it. I'm in no shape to do that.<br />
<br />
My current best-case scenario has me doing a pain-free 10-12
miler this weekend, which I would then follow up with a 14-miler and then a
16-miler... and that is where I will most likely stall before the
marathon. And, that's if nothing else goes wrong! And something could go wrong. Unfortunately, I found out this week that I have to have some skin excised from the top of my left foot (result of my dermatology visit last week), and that will require stitches. On top of my foot. Ugh. I am not sure what that will do to my training, but I hope little to nothing.<br />
<br />
Honestly, Trailbreaker has the potential of being my
least-trained-for marathon EVER. So be it. I need to be patient and never lose sight of that ultimate goal of the 100-miler. With that in mind, I will muddle through the Trailbreaker as best I can, get the time on my feet and the practice power hiking, and move on. I guess there is something to be said for that. Right? RIGHT?<br />
<br />
So, how do things look for <i>this</i> weekend's long run? Well, at this point, I am cautiously optimistic. I have managed two one-hour-long treadmill runs this week, and my legs have felt great - both during the run and in recovery. Also this week I have used the rowing machine a couple of times and attended two yoga classes. I still feel some lingering tightness, but I am walking well up and down stairs and generally just feel ready to try something longer. Like I said, cautiously optimistic.<br />
<br />
<b>Facebook update, so to speak</b><br />
<br />
I am now two weeks into my Lenten challenge of giving up Facebook, and I
am not going to lie. I miss the easy contact with people. As a means of
forming friendships, Facebook may be kind of like throwing
spaghetti at a wall and seeing what sticks, but for an introvert like
myself that's not all bad. The truth is, I get all befuddled when it
comes to making friends and Facebook has made it very easy for me these
past
few years. Without it, I feel a bit lost. Oh well, only three and a half
more weeks to go. I <i>can</i> do this.<br />
<br />
<b>Because I don't have enough races on the calendar</b><br />
<br />
So, this goes to show how greedy I am. I went to our running club's volunteer appreciation dinner last night, and in previewing the door prizes available I scoped out the one I really, really wanted. I told my husband that if I am called first (because I saw this as a high-value prize, I was going to scoop it up). Well, as it turns out, I was called second and that was good enough. So, I now find myself the proud possessor of a free entry into the <a href="http://talesfromanaveragerunner.blogspot.com/2014/09/nfec-50-mile-race-report.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">North Face Endurance Challenge - Madison</a> ... any distance. Now I am going to have to think this through carefully, because I need another ultra on the calendar like a hole in my head, but I just couldn't help myself. The NEC 50-Mile was my first race of that distance, and I <i>loved</i> it. But, it is also just a scant six weeks after my 100-Mile event, so..... I guess more on that later. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K5XYZEWccrU/Vs9IKu4fh5I/AAAAAAAAAjA/tpIVJPFHKvI/s1600/IMG_2274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K5XYZEWccrU/Vs9IKu4fh5I/AAAAAAAAAjA/tpIVJPFHKvI/s640/IMG_2274.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because I am loving the signs of Spring...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-54616150068148330112016-02-21T09:53:00.002-06:002016-02-21T09:53:21.314-06:00At a crossroadsWell, this just sucks. Now something else hurts. I think I have to admit it. I really need help. Somehow, I have dug myself so deep into a hole of body imbalances that it is proving hard now to find my way out without a guide. This does not come as a total surprise to me. After all, I had started to call in the reinforcements last week when I set up appointments for a massage and running gait analysis, but I didn't think the situation would become so dire. Now my quad muscle is unhappy with me. Add that to the left knee and we almost have enough for a party.<br />
<br />
So, how did all this happen? Let me think. Oh yeah, running became erratic over the winter with the new job and ... well, heck, it's winter! I thought this was the time for doing what I wanted to with running! <i>Just have fun with it</i>, they said. Clearly, that doesn't work for me. Apparently, I need a plan even for fun running. (How lame am I?) Without a plan, though, I see that things become too disorganized. Looking back at my training log, I see a lot of weeks of hardly any mid-week miles and yet random 15-20 milers thrown in on the weekends. I don't fancy myself a weekend warrior, but I seem to have "just-have-fun"ed my way into that designation.<br />
<br />
So, that's what I did do. What I didn't do was yoga, stretching, and aerobic cross-training. Not much anyway. I only just started adding some biking and rowing back into my regimen. Skiing, which played such a vital roll in past winters, has been almost non-existent; I've only gone once and that was just this past week! <br />
<br />
I did add a new sport to my repertoire - rock climbing! I tried that once on a whim and it was love at first climb. However, I do have to admit, it has added a whole new class of misery to my tendency-to-get-overly-tight prone body. Now my upper body is just as sore as my lower body. Yay.<br />
<br />
That's looking back over the past few months. Just in the past few weeks, I probably got back into running way too quickly after five days off. Ramping up to a 30+-mile week from almost nothing wasn't the best course of action. At the time, though, it seemed fine.<br />
<br />
So, what have I done wrong <i>this</i> week? Well, I am not sure. The only things I can think of are that, first of all, I am NOT working anymore. While I really celebrate the fact that I am no longer chained to a desk and phone for 25 hours out of every week, and I really enjoy all the movement that now affords me, I probably should have recognized that that IS extra movement, which my body is not used to. (I am a fragile flower, after all.)<br />
<br />
Also this week I went back to my first yoga class in months. Although it did greet me like an old friend, it did so like an old friend bent on giving me a hard time for the lapse in contact. That is to say, I felt it the next day. Skiing on Monday for the first time all winter probably didn't help either.<br />
<br />
Finally, I have tried to get back into some old PT exercises that have helped me in the past with knee issues - namely squats and clams to build up the glutes and hips. I have also foam rolled the heck out of my body. All this was in the name of helping myself get stronger and better, but does it really help if those are not the exercises I need to be doing right now? Maybe they were targeting the wrong muscle groups. What do I know? At least, that is the conclusion I have now reached.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hHwSDGcsSDI/Vsna7_b21SI/AAAAAAAAAg4/HudYHFSJwnY/s1600/IMG_20160219_144248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hHwSDGcsSDI/Vsna7_b21SI/AAAAAAAAAg4/HudYHFSJwnY/s200/IMG_20160219_144248.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm stumped! Which way to go?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, that brings us all to yesterday. For my second 3-mile run of the week, I had a choice. I could have played it safe and used the treadmill or run some road miles, but instead I opted to hit the trails. I really agonized over this decision for a couple of hours while I cleaned house. The trails finally won out, because 1) it was sunny out, 2) I hadn't done them in a while and I thought the change would be good for me, and 3) it's just really what my heart wanted to do. And, while I don't regret the decision, I do recognize that the choice to do PT exercises after the slippery, sloppy trails was probably what put the quad over the edge, especially after dancing my way through house cleaning. Yes, that's right. I'll own it. It makes the time pass more quickly.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CpDrf_b1etI/Vsna8RQVq7I/AAAAAAAAAhA/WFwHANTg0Dw/s640/20160219_125241.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iced over Lake Winnebago. On a 45-degree day, it makes me nervous looking out at the ice-fishing shanties. Others have so much more faith than I do!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IWmjMNKoK0w/Vsna9fBUJxI/AAAAAAAAAhU/QPqCc08Zdnk/s1600/IMG_20160219_144550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IWmjMNKoK0w/Vsna9fBUJxI/AAAAAAAAAhU/QPqCc08Zdnk/s640/IMG_20160219_144550.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frozen creek! The kids wanted so badly to snowshoe up this when frozen, but all winter long the water was running...but not today!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cJplH3HlAlo/Vsna9soq_LI/AAAAAAAAAhY/P81Q-2bvSxU/s1600/20160219_125616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cJplH3HlAlo/Vsna9soq_LI/AAAAAAAAAhY/P81Q-2bvSxU/s320/20160219_125616.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handy screws in the shoes make me a bit more confident in snow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Weekly Workout Wrap-Up</b><br />
<br />
Sunday - 10 mile run/walk on the treadmill<br />
Monday - 40 minutes cross-country skiing<br />
Tuesday - 18 minutes biking and 12 minutes of rowing<br />
Wednesday - 3-mile group run<br />
Thursday - 15 minutes biking and 15 minutes rowing and one-hour yoga class<br />
Friday - 3-mile trail run<br />
<br />
<br />
Happy running! Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-33187091266379697182016-02-18T14:18:00.001-06:002016-02-18T14:18:36.348-06:00Newly unemployedThis is shaping up to be a busy first week off. As a newly unemployed citizen (my four-month temp job having ended last week), I have come to the realization that I have missed being at home. I missed the flexibility the stay-at-home mom gig afforded me. I missed being able to do things for my family without it involving major contortions in the time-space continuum (or is that space-time?). I missed working out when and where I wanted to. I even missed the dentist.<br />
<br />
Well, that last bit is not exactly true, but I did - literally - miss the dentist while I was working. This week I made up for that, as well as a few other mundane chores that are necessary to one's health and welfare but are harder to schedule when working: dentist, haircut, dermatologist. I finally even managed to get my son in for his well-child visit, just a couple of months late.<br />
<br />
I know it is possible to schedule all of this while working, but the temporary nature of my employment definitely lent itself to me feeling like it was just as easy to put things off until I was once again gainfully unemployed as it was to juggle everyone's schedules and get 'er done. <br />
<br />
Aside from doctor's visits and such, I am also starting to take stock of my training plan and figure out what I need to do to get into shape for this year's big running goal - the 100-Miler. So far, I have planned for a massage and a running gait analysis to see where my weak spots currently are. I did this a couple of years ago and found it helped tremendously. With the legs feeling a bit wonky lately, it seems as good a time as any to go in for a tune-up. Who knows, maybe I've let something get lazy. It wouldn't surprise me. Aren't we always looking for the easy way out?<br />
<br />
Today also saw me go to my first yoga class in, oh, a pretty darn long time. I generally stray away from yoga in the summers when the kids are off of school, and I think I was just starting to get back into it when I got the temp job in October. So, I've had a good four months of living in the stretch-free zone. And that has not been good. I realized a long time ago that I need regular stretching to keep my body feeling happy and healthy, so not going to yoga - and not even stretching much at home - over the past few months has taken its toll.<br />
<br />
Heading into yoga this morning, I really had no clue what to expect. I felt like a beginner all over again and felt shy despite the fact that I knew Every Single Person in the class. (Okay, so there were only four of us. I still knew Everyone, and that's pretty cool.)<br />
<br />
I feel over the past couple of months I have slowly lost all those gains in flexibility and fluidity that I had fought so hard for last year. In their place, I felt stilted, stunted, and clunky. And, the class did nothing to disabuse me of that notion really. While my arm strength was quite good - thanks to months of indoor rock climbing sessions and now some rowing - my glute strength was weak and my legs were shaky in pretty much every yoga pose I tried. My balance was off a bit, and there wasn't much stretch in the body at all. Of course, it wasn't all bad. I did leave the class feeling about two inches taller. However, I also left with little aches and pains, telling me I kind of need to keep going back. And, I will. I need to.<br />
<br />
So, I am going to end with a question I've been thinking about all day. It takes a little setup, though, so bear with me. I had the best night's sleep last night, and I cannot explain why. I
have been sleeping horribly lately. My pillow somehow isn't right, and I
go though life pretty much always with a sore neck and upper shoulders.
It doesn't help that the job that just ended had me hunched over a
computer keyboard five hours a day. So, yesterday my husband suggested
swapping pillows with me to see if his, which is new, would be better.
Okay. Cool. Also, before bed, I decided to try some simple neck
stretches to see if that would help. So, fast forward to my good night's
sleep. I go to bed later than my husband, so things are dark when I
stumble in and go to bed. Got into bed last night and was immediately
impressed with how fantastic the new pillow was. Got a great night's
sleep. Even sleeping on my back, which I haven't been able to do for a
long time. Woke up, neck felt great. Went out and asked my husband about
the pillow, and he said he hadn't swapped pillows. Figured I would have
done it if I wanted to. Huh. So, now I am left wondering if those neck
stretches really are all that? Or is it - as my husband suggests -
simply an example of mind over matter? I believed I had a new,
going-to-be-great-for-me pillow and I believed it? Something to think about.<br />
<br />
Happy Running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-38026270249280613222016-02-16T17:30:00.000-06:002016-02-16T17:30:01.258-06:00Oh no, not the IT band...againThis year is big for me. No two ways about it. I don't have time to be injured. And, yet, that is where I find myself. Well, not injured per se. At least, I hope not. More, warding off an injury, nursing along a grumpy leg, trying to put my finger on that what ails me. For whatever reason, the ugly IT band issue from a couple of years ago seems to think it can make a reappearance. Well, I am here to tell it that I don't have time for that!<br />
<br />
This year's race schedule includes exactly this:<br />
<br />
- 2 marathons (one in 6.5 weeks!)<br />
- 3 50Ks<br />
- 1 50 Miler<br />
- 1 100 Miler<br />
<br />
Do you see any time in there for injury? I sure as heck don't.<br />
<br />
So, here's what's happening. After a year (that would be last year) and a fall/winter off-season that was on the whole very injury free, I seem to have tweaked my left leg. I blame a number of things for this situation: 1) having such a good year I slacked off on my yoga and other stretching activities, so I have gotten noticably tighter and tighter; 2) a temp job that placed me in a chair hunched over a computer keyboard for 5 hours of every day Monday through Friday (can you say tight hip flexors? I can.); and 3) well, I am not sure what "3" is exactly, but there probably is one somewhere. <br />
<br />
Anyway, after a perfectly fine 10-mile run one day, walking down my stairs to do laundry, I felt a bit of a ping in my left calf. It wasn't a snap, or a pop. Just a ping. Enough to feel like a pretty decent cramp. It lingered for a few days, and there was a bit of swelling for a couple of weeks. I did continue to run through all that - not because I am stupid or pig-headed - but because I really didn't think it was that big of a deal. It didn't hurt to run, after all.<br />
<br />
So, exit the calf issue, and enter the IT band issue. Now I am smart enough to realize that one definitely followed as a result of the other. Sneaky devil that it is. The calf now feels ship shape, while the IT band feels wonky. It manifested itself in a bit of pain around the knee when I ran. So, I took five days off - and felt great! Deciding to get back into running, I started with a modest 3-mile walk on day 1. All was well, so a couple of days later I tried a 3-mile run/walk. Again, peachy! A couple of days later - a 4-mile run/walk, then a 5, a 6, a 7, an 8, ... until this past weekend - 10 glorious run/walk miles!!! And that was great, except for the pain I felt above my knee at mile 5. Sigh. Please note, the pain was in a different spot than the original pain that led to the five days off. So, here I am, unsure of where I'm at...if you get what I mean, dear Reader.<br />
<br />
I am hoping that my progression was a bit too aggressive and that a down week this week will do the trick, but I really don't know. What I do know is I do not plan to be laid up for months on end if I can help it. I'd rather take a few weeks off now than that. The hard part is determining if that is necessary. So, over the next few weeks, I have a massage scheduled and a run analysis. I will continue what I have started - namely, more stretching, more exercises, more foam rolling. I will only run twice this week for three miles each time, but only if that feels okay. And then I will reassess next weekend.<br />
<br />
Here is hoping that all does go well. After all, I have a big year ahead. Happy Running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-27622978323182809882016-02-14T08:07:00.003-06:002016-02-16T17:01:58.159-06:00The tie that binds......or not.<br />
<br />
I have finally cut the cord. I have ventured out into that brave old world on my own. For the first time in a looong time, I feel disconnected from family and friends in a way that I haven't felt since, oh, 2006? And it is completely by choice. You see, for Lent I decided to give up Facebook. And, so far, I am okay with that decision. <br />
<br />
I have given up Facebook twice before in recent years. The first time lasted about five days. The second time about a day and a half. Both times, I pulled away from it because it actually caused me angst. I don't know whether that angst stemmed from the inferiority complex that developed on the heels of what I saw as everyone else's epic adventures, (isn't anyone else's life just mundane sometimes, or is it just me?) or from the fact that it was just too much information to have swirling around in my brain at any one time. (After all, I find it hard to keep track of my own life at times, let alone others'.) In any case, this time around is different. <br />
<br />
Giving up Facebook this time has nothing to do with feeling inferior, or overwhelmed, or anything negative really. Instead, it has more to do with possibilities, growth, and discovery. I am of an age that I can actually remember life before Facebook. However, I seem to be having a hard time recalling what I actually did instead of Facebook. How did I spend all those stolen moments when I wasn't scanning through my newsfeed, peeping into other people's lives like a socially licensed voyeur? The fact is that I don't know, and that's what I aim to find out.<br />
<br />
Driving the farm roads two days ago, looking to where the crystal blue sky meets the frozen fields of a Wisconsin winter and seeing a lonely strip of power lines marching down the road beside me, I was struck with a profound sense that there is a whole other world - or alternate
reality - going on around me that I could not see. Somewhere out
there in the ether there were conversations taking place, plans being
made, stories being told that I was missing. That made me both sad but
at the same time relieved.<br />
<br />
There is a sense of freedom I feel having
given myself the permission to NOT keep on top of all of that. And,
having given myself that permission, I feel strangely less distracted.
Since I cannot look at Facebook I am not constantly thinking about
looking at it. Or, if I do think of it, I dismiss it as not an option.
So, at this point, I feel just a bit more present in my real life. <br />
<br />
So far it's been four full days without that go-to time-filler. I have missed it certainly. Like any addiction, you notice it once it's gone. All those moments in the day when I have been between chores or activities, when I would have reached for my phone, I have had to stop myself and find something else to do. Admittedly, there have been moments of twiddling my thumbs, unsure what to do with myself. But there have also been moments of conversation with my kids that would have never taken place before. And, whether they like it or not, they now have my full attention. I have read more articles and books, as those are easy to grab in down moments. I have cleaned a tad more. I have helped the kids with their projects a bit more.<br />
<br />
Increased productivity is a fantastic side-effect of this little experiment, and if it continues I will be quite pleased with myself. What I wonder at more, though, are the moments when I haven't done anything at all. I have just allowed myself to stare out the window and be lost in my thoughts. What a great feeling!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldaiaXSd5YM/VsCJwapxqKI/AAAAAAAAAgo/nV01sN3mtTE/s1600/IMG_2257.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldaiaXSd5YM/VsCJwapxqKI/AAAAAAAAAgo/nV01sN3mtTE/s1600/IMG_2257.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staring out the window is how I found this guy yesterday. Usually one of the first signs of Spring, this robin made his appearance on one of the coldest days this winter!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I
will be curious to see how this all unfolds. One thing for sure, though, is that with no Facebook I have more time for writing, and I have missed it. I plan to spend more time blogging and writing in my journal. There is a lot to catch up on: the four-month long temp job that just ended, some epic runs of my own that I have had since last year, and of course race plans for this year! More to come on all of that. In the meantime, the negative windchill of today has driven me indoors - so ten miles on the treadmill, here I come!<br />
<br />
Happy Running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-51635948664325672872015-09-10T10:59:00.001-05:002015-09-10T10:59:55.494-05:00So much has happened....Well, gee, if I would only wait another eight days then I could claim it's been a whole year since my last blog post. But, as with most things in my life, if I want it, I want it now. Patience has never been a strong suit of mine. So here I am. Again.<br />
<br />
Why am I back? I'm not sure. What I do know is that I miss writing. There is something simple and fulfilling about turning a proper phrase, and I miss that particular playing field. I doubt I'll ever write the Great American Novel. I probably do not have the wherewithal to journal daily, but by God I can spend some time blogging every now and again. And, there are just times when the odd sentence or two on Facebook doesn't seem enough.<br />
<br />
So, since this is mainly a running blog, I guess I should say something about what has happened in my running life this past year. Contrary to what you might believe, I did not stop running. No, that's not why I stopped writing. In fact, I ran quite a bit. Here's the short version:<br />
<br />
My big focus this past year was training for and completing a 100-mile trail ultra. In preparation for that, I ran lots and lots and lots. I also cross-trained (biked and yoga'd) lots and lots and lots. I still did not finish the darn race.<br />
<br />
Was I undertrained? Maybe. Was I too wimpy to finish? Maybe. Did I not want it badly enough? Maybe. I am still chewing over what happened and what didn't happen, and what could have gone better. While there probably were underlying mental factors to my not finishing the event, the official cause of DNF was the massive blisters that formed under the balls of my feet and that completely encased one pinky toe. I was slowing down a lot during the race and losing motivation at about the same rate, so when my crew saw the sad state of my feet and said I was done, I was done. I didn't even argue. In fact, it was a relief. Still, I made it 70 miles, which is further (by 20 miles) than I had ever gone before.<br />
<br />
So, that was the BIG GOAL EVENT THAT WASN'T. There were other races and other stories as well, such as the 50-miler where I rolled my ankle at about mile 9 and then still finished the race just before the cutoff (even though I had to hobble most of the rest of the way with a wrapped ankle, depending way too much on the trekking poles I had with me). That was probably a better story of triumph over adversity. However, on the other hand, it could be easily flipped into a story about stupid pride and idiocy, so why write that one up?<br />
<br />
I had a few firsts this year:<br />
<br />
- First time completing marathon distances on my own just for training<br />
- First time completing a 50K followed by an official marathon the following week<br />
- First time doing back-to-back 5Ks, as in Saturday evening/Sunday morning<br />
<br />
I had a couple of PRs:<br />
<br />
- 50K PR<br />
- Distance PR (although not the one I wanted)<br />
<br />
Etc., etc., etc.<br />
<br />
Mainly, it's just been a busy, roller-coaster year. Working so hard for something that didn't work out took a lot out of me somehow, and since then I've just been enjoying my running life. I thought briefly about feeding off of my earlier training and trying to complete a 100 still this year. I even had one picked out. But then something curious happened. I noticed that running was feeling stressful. Training before the first 100-miler was fun for the most part, and I wasn't feeling that this time around. So, I backed off and reassessed and decided maybe it would be best to just let it go for now. And, guess what? Running suddenly became fun again. I was doing the exact same runs (distance-wise) as before, but without the feeling of "needing" to do those runs the stress just fell away. To be honest, it's been nice.<br />
<br />
So, that's where I am right now. I do have a little race coming up in two weeks - a 50K. And, I am really looking forward to that. With any luck it will go well and I'll have another story to tell once it's done. Until next time....Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-64430379910328695882014-09-18T12:55:00.001-05:002014-09-18T12:55:34.961-05:00NFEC 50-Mile Race Report<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In my mind, this was the race that should not have happened. It defies explanation. Injured all last </div>
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winter with IT band issues, not even that excited about running heading into the spring, I signed up for the North Face Endurance 50-Mile Challenge completely on a whim. Part of it was due to the fact that I had seen my husband run enough ultras now, that I was finally intrigued. Part of it was surely due to the fact that two friends of mine were training for their first 100-miler and were making it sound so F*U*N (yes, with all-cap/star emphasis). To be honest, I was feeling left out. So, after waffling at the end of LAST year as to what I wanted 2014's goal to be, I finally decided what the hell and signed up for this 50-Mile C*H*A*L*L*E*N*G*E (also with all-cap/star emphasis) back in the early spring. <br />
<br />
Since I haven't been writing, you are spared all the gory details about training and the emotions that went with that. The short version is that I kind of pieced together a program based on Relentless Forward Progress and what a handful of friends and my husband suggested. I opted to err on the side of undertraining, versus overtraining - so my program was by no means going to get me some outrageous time goal. The goal was to finish - and finish happily. <br />
<br />
Basically, the gist of what I did was this: I ended up running four days a week. The Wednesday and Friday runs were my mid-week runs. They were generally at least an hour long, on trails, or involved some kind of hill or speed workout. Sunday and Monday were my back-to-back long runs. Sundays were the longer of the two and built up to a 22-miler about two and a half months prior to NFEC in preparation for the one and only 50K I did in mid-July (Dances with Dirt). After DwD, I built up again to a 24-miler, three weeks out from the 50 Mile. These Sunday runs were typically done on roads. As they got longer, though, I usually incorporated a 10-mile loop that involved some good hills and then would run to the local state park so that the last few miles of the long run was done on trails. I somehow thought running the trails on tired legs would be good experience. Long Sunday runs were run every other week. The "off" week was typically a 10-miler, done on trails. I should add that - especially for the road runs - I utilized a 5/1 run/walk ratio.<br />
<br />
The Monday runs varied in distance but were meant to challenge me to run on tired legs. I kept the same run/walk ratio and pace, inasmuch as I could. Quite often, they were run on trail, however. And, after the DwD 50K, I took the advice of a friend and endurance coach and switched those workouts to a 1/1 run/walk interval. That may sound crazy, but the whole idea behind it was to really work on my walking. Since it was a given that I was not going to run the whole 50 miles, but would rather incorporate quite a bit of walking, the hope was that I could teach myself to walk quickly. Up to this point, I have always been a dawdle walker. To this end, I think I had some very good success with adding this workout into the regimen. My Monday 1/1 run/walks weren't significantly slower than my Sunday 5/1 run/walks, due to the fact, I would guess, that in running and walking for "just one minute," I was able to convince myself to go faster at both paces. That is to say, my runs and walks were just darn faster. (Ex.: 9-something versus 10:30 pace for the runs and 14 versus 17-something for the walks.)<br />
<br />
Last year, while training for all those marathons and the 50K I did, I offset my running with bike riding and the occasional yoga. I thought it was important to keep pounding away at the cardio for some reason. This year, because of the injury I had recovered from, I thought maybe I should back off a bit. So, instead of doing two more days of cardio a week, I opted to do yoga instead: one class a week of hot/power yoga and one class a week of the stretchy/slow flow type of yoga that feels so good on tight muscles. Saturdays were my one and only true rest day a week. <br />
<br />
Was this the best plan ever? No clue. But, it seemed to work for me. I had a really good, solid summer of training. I did manage to tweak my IT band about two and a half weeks out from the 50, though, and that added some stress going into the race. If I had just listened to my body at that point, though, it wouldn't have happened. Lessons learned.<br />
<br />
So, on to the race.<br />
<br />
When I first signed up for this event, it seemed like a brilliant idea to forego the traditional hotel room and go with camping instead. Seeing as the race start was scheduled for an uncivilized 5 a.m., sleeping at home and driving the two hours to the start would have been impossible. The race is staged from the Ottawa Lakes Campground, so tenting it there for the night and walking to the start at o'dark thirty seemed like a phenomenal choice - until it rained.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home, sweet, home!</td></tr>
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Getting to the campground and setting up the tent in a steady drizzle, the choice to camp suddenly seemed like a colossally bad decision. Add to that the fact that the lows overnight were supposed to be in the upper 30s and it was hard not to tell myself what a dumb ass I had been. And, I didn't just have me to think about, but also two kids. Suddenly I was very concerned we were all going to freeze to death in our sleep. In the spirit of adventure, though, we bundled up in double layers, crawled into our sleeping bags, piled high with fleece blankets (suddenly it wasn't such a bad thing that we had saved all those no-sew, double-layered fleece baby blankets. Cookie Monster and Winnie-the-Pooh were more than happy to help keep us toasty for the night). Two phone alarms set for 3:45 a.m., it was time to sleep. Or was it?<br />
<br />
As it turns out, it wasn't time to sleep. Listening to the rain fall on the tent, snuggled deep into my sleeping bag, I would have thought nothing would keep me awake. However, the idea of waking up and running 50 miles was apparently enough to do just that.<br />
<br />
So it was that after a rather restless night of sleeping, the alarms sounded the time to wake up, face the chilly morning, and my fate. (Duh, duh, DUH! That sounded dramatic, didn't it?)<br />
<br />
Getting dressed was done quickly. Despite the crappy weather the night before, the forecast for the run was actually ideal. The start was to be a bit chilly with a temp of around 40 degrees, but the high wasn't supposed to get much above 60 degrees all day. And, no rain. All in all, fantastic! I had decided for this run I would wear my Pearl Izumi N2 trail shoes, compression socks, Saucony Impulse shorts, PI ultra inside out shirt (short-sleeve), Smart Wool arm warmers, knit cap and gloves (for the start), as well as my Patagonia light-weight wind-breaker. After getting dressed in running gear and then throwing my flannel pajama bottoms and a fleece jacket over everything, it was time for a quick bowl of instant oatmeal and some Via instant coffee, which my husband had thankfully gotten up to make for me.<br />
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We said our good-byes at the tent (the kidlets were still sleeping, after all), I grabbed my two drop bags, and walked by the light of my headlamp through the quiet campground, around the south end of the lake to the start area. Welcome to tent city!<br />
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The race had taken over a good-sized chunk of grass, bordered by two roads, the lake and a parking lot. A dozen or more tents were set up around the perimeter with Clif hydration, blocks/gels, drop bag drop-off, and all the other trappings of a major event. I managed to find my way to packet pickup, got my bib and some pins, as well as my shirt, buff, and a pair of SmartWool socks. I was a few minutes late for the drop-bag dropoff, but I still managed to get there in enough time to shove my race swag and fleece jacket into the emptier of my two drop bags and send them on their way. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corner of the race event's compound. (Picture taken the next day.)</td></tr>
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Waiting around for the next fifteen minutes or so for the start, I wasn't too chilly. Fires were blazing around the clearing to keep warm the runners and spectators alike. There were to be two waves to the 50-Mile start. According to announcements made, we were to line up in the appropriate wave according to what was marked on our bib. If no wave was indicated on our bibs, though, we could choose whichever one we wanted. Sweet! I didn't have a wave marked on mine and thought for about half a second to line up in wave 1. However, [not to stereotype here] when I saw who all was lining up in wave 1, I decided wave 2 would suit me just fine.<br />
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At 5 a.m., wave 1 was underway. Three minutes later, it was our turn. Finally! Time to get the show on the road.<br />
<br />
Anyone who has read my stuff in the past knows that I am not one for mile-by-mile blow-by-blows. (Thank goodness, right?) So, read on for my discombobulated account of this race.<br />
<br />
The 50-Mile, as stated, starts at 5 a.m. What that means is that it is dark. In fact, it is dark for about an hour. You start off with about a half mile or so of road before getting on to the trails. I have to say that I loved this hour of dark. It was just fun. Except for the headlamps of other runners and the ground illuminated by the steady glow of my own headlamp, I couldn't see much of anything. It was like being in another world - a very insulated one. Being so early in the race, I was for the most part around other people for the entire time we were in the dark, so I wasn't too worried about getting lost. Glow sticks hanging from trailside branches showed the way. Keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me helped me not to trip. But also looking up once in a while to orient myself to the other headlamps let me know if a climb, descent, or bend in the trail were coming. It didn't take long (the first long climb) before I got a bit overheated, so I shimmied out of my jacket and tied it around my waist.<br />
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I didn't run this race with anyone. In fact, the idea that I would be able to spend 50 miles by myself was one catalyst for finally signing up for an ultra. I wanted to know - more than anything - that mentally I could spend the time by myself. So, I was alone for most of the race, and I didn't listen to music. I entertained myself with my own thoughts - and sadly with eavesdropping too. To be honest several miles of this first loop were spent on the heels of two ladies who were holding a jolly conversation about fellow acquaintances, household stuff, and life in general. Shamelessly, I trotted behind them, entertaining myself with their conversation. Don't get me wrong - there was no judgement on my part. It was just something to do to pass the time. If these ladies noticed my eavesdropping, they didn't seem to mind. Sadly, I eventually lost them, as they were clearly faster than I was.<br />
<br />
That hour of darkness was almost magical in a way, and I was sad when it started to fade. The time spent doing the first 7 miles went quickly, and I couldn't believe when we had looped back at mile 7 to a point in the trail that we had passed five miles earlier. This was the first clue I had that this might be a good run, rather than my typical long distance slog.<br />
<br />
Miles 7 to 21 passed in a blur. Nothing really stands out in my memory about those miles. I remember random thoughts, such as when I passed the half marathon mark, then again around 18 to 20 miles. How it seemed weird that I was passing mileage that typically are "are we there yet?" mileage. The idea that I still had over half my race left flitted through my mind. However, as with meditation, I tried hard not to dwell on any thoughts, just recognize them and move on.<br />
<br />
In those first miles, I stuck pretty well to my plan of eating three Clif Blocks every 45 minutes. That is what I had determined beforehand. I thought if I could stick to that as my base eating plan and simply supplement it with real food whenever I felt hungry, then that might be a good way to go. Somewhere in those early miles I vaguely remember eating some potato chips and maybe a couple of bites of PB&J, but I didn't go too crazy on the food.<br />
<br />
Approaching 20 miles, I started to look forward to the fact that I would be able to see my husband and kids. They were planning to see me at miles 21, 28, and 35 - those aid stations with the easiest accessibility. Little did I know that that mileage would contain the hardest terrain for me to handle. Approaching the mile 21 aid station, we ran along the perimeter of a shooting range (clearly marked). Obviously, it was a busy day at the range, because the sound of shooting was loud, echoing as it did off the hills and through the trees. It sounded very close and was a bit unnerving. I kept wondering where the shooters were in relation to where I was and hoping they were farther away than they sounded. <br />
<br />
Coming in to McMiller (Miles 21 and 35 aid station) the first time, I was so happy to see my family. The kids had obviously been told that they could dig into the bag of junk food Andy had only after I had come through, because as soon as they saw me it was a quick, hi mama, and then they began clamoring for food. (To show you how engaged my kids were with this event, they apparently quizzed grandma and grandpa the next day at their hotel about all the race shirts they were seeing: So, is 50K or 50 Miles longer? Did Mama do the 50K or 50 Miles? Is that the shorter distance? Sigh.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just coming in to Mile 21. Finally able to take off the hat, gloves, and jacket.</td></tr>
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As a crew person, I have to say my husband was brilliant. He was supportive and cheerful and got right down to the business of seeing to what I needed before sending me off again with nary a moment wasted. (I'd like to think he learned this all from me, his intrepid and indefatigable crew chief over the past few years.) While it was fantastic to see the family (even if the kids only cared about the Fritos and Kit-Kats in the crew bag), it was a bit sad to leave them behind. I had made the Mile 21 aid station, passing the cutoff, but I had a rough 14 mile out-and-back in front of me. Luckily, at the time, I was blissfully naive as to how rough it would be.<br />
<br />
Heading out from McMiller, the trail started innocuously enough. It wasn't long, however, before it morphed onto a xc-ski trail with some hellacious climbs. In fact, they were so impressive to me that I can honestly say that I am now convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will NEVER be a serious, hardcore xc-skiier. I don't know how people go up or down those hills. In fact, even running, it became quickly clear that I was going to have trouble going up OR down these hills. Actually, the ups weren't the problem (I was going to walk those anyway), however the downs were tough. That IT band that had started barking a few weeks earlier decided that it really didn't like the downhills. So, many of those steeper descents that I would have otherwise hoped to run down ended up being walkers as well. I spent the next few miles cursing myself that I had turned Andy down when he asked if I needed any Excedrin.<br />
<br />
The hills aside, or maybe because of them, I would have to say that my lowest points in the race came between miles 21 and 26. At the time, I found this strange. I kept playing in my head how a friend of mine says that the hardest part for her is usually between miles 31 and 35, and how Andy always feels at his lowest between miles 40 and the finish. I couldn't help but think, Good Lord, if I already feel this crappy even before the halfway point, how is this race going to progress? I remembered my first 50K where I had felt I hit the wall at mile 15. Although that was not the best feeling at the time, I also remembered that it never got worse - just stayed the same level of bad.<br />
<br />
Hitting that low stretch mentally in the 50-Miler forced me to do a few things: the first of which was to ask myself how badly did I want this finish? The answer was pretty darn badly. I reminded myself that everyone has low points and challenges in ultras. I certainly haven't run very many of them, but I have crewed and cheered and now even paced one. I know that low points pass. The next thing I started doing was what I should have done from the start - that is, NOT to look at this race as one big whole, but rather break it down to its parts. I was kind of doing that already. I was focusing more on getting from aid station to aid station, but then I started looking at the distances I was covering. Luckily for me, that played in my favor a bit. I was happy when I reached the marathon mark - certainly not a PR by any means but it was a time that was acceptable given the trail. I got a PR in the 50K distance. And, I got a PR in the 8-hour distance (as compared to Moose Mountain Marathon.) Additionally, I reminded myself over and over again, this is what I had trained for. I really needed to convince myself to trust that training.<br />
<br />
So, in the end, it was in a way the little things that got me through. Heading up and over those hills in that middle section, I entertained myself with my bit of PR-vs.-non-PR math. As I got closer to the mile 28 aid station (the turnaround point for this hillacious out-and-back section), I did get a bit emotional. For one, I was happy at the chance to see my husband and kids again. Secondly, though, I thought there would be a good chance my parents would be there as well, and I couldn't wait to see them. (They have never seen me run an ultra and had decided this was the one! Not only that, but they had signed up to work an aid station that afternoon too at mile 45). Thirdly, I was more than ready to tell Andy to give me the drugs! Finally, on a negative note, I was a bit emotional because I knew that the turnaround would mean that I would have to go back over those damn hills again. Ugh.<br />
<br />
At Mile 28, I got the family fix I needed with the husband, kids, and my parents. I got my one Exedrin, and I turned around and took off again into the woods. Heading back over the hills didn't seem as bad the second time around. Part of that comes surely from the fact that I knew there would be an end to them, but also I have to give the Exedrin some credit. It did take the edge off of the pain enough that I could start running down the hills again. Although the effects only lasted two-and-a-half hours, I was happy for the break I got from the nagging pain I kept feeling. It was during this stretch that I passed the 31-mile mark, entering that territory of "longer than I have ever run." I thought I would feel more jubilant or something at that point, but like the other thoughts I had entertained throughout the day it mostly just was noticed and then flitted out of my head again.<br />
<br />
I guess I expected the last 19 miles of the race to be something crazy significant or mind-blowing. I mean, I had STRUGGLED through my two 50Ks, finishing with usually an average 14:30 pace. I was DONE after both of those races. Hell, most of the marathons I have run have left me feeling spent and like crap - slow as I am. I thought for sure these last 19 miles would shred me. The fact is, though, they didn't.<br />
<br />
I made it back through the worst of the hills and back to McMiller with plenty of time to spare before the hard cutoff. The miles leading into mile 35, I was once again treated to a volley of gunfire. (Don't those people ever give it a rest?) I was excited to see the family once again (minus my parents who had needed to head to their aid station duties), but I was also looking forward to seeing four of my friends who had surprised me the Thursday before by saying they were planning on coming down to cheer me on for the last part of the race. One was also planning on pacing me, which was allowed by Mile 35 as long as that person had registered and gotten a Pacer bib. I was excited at the thought of having a pacer, not so much for the pacing itself, but after almost 8.5 hours on the trail alone, a bit of conversation sounded nice. Plus, I knew that R. would be the person I needed to keep my walking going, because while my running pace was still pretty darn steady, my walking speed had flagged considerably over the course of the day - and there was more of it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming in to Mile 35. Really, the only muddy part of the course.</td></tr>
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I tried not to get too excited as I neared the aid station, though. I didn't want to be disappointed if for some reason they weren't there. I knew they had some other things going on in the morning hours that might hinder their timely appearance on the trails of southern Wisconsin. And, as it turns out, they didn't make it on time.<br />
<br />
As I got into the aid station, I asked Andy if they were there, and he said they had called ten minutes before to say they were almost there. So, I took some time to have a couple of ginger chews (the tummy was fine but it just didn't seem like a bad idea), grabbed my hat from the drop bag, refilled bottles with Coke and water, stuffed a Snickers bar I had brought in my pack, and finally went to the bathroom - my only time through the entire race (probably not a good thing), and checked out the "cave" my children were digging out in a big pile of rubble. I asked Andy if I should worry that my hands were swelling a bit. He said no, just don't drink so much. I shoved a second Exerderin tablet in my pack in case I needed it, dawdled around a minute or so more, before Andy finally broke the news that I should probably head out.<br />
<br />
So, off I went. Without the brilliant conversationalist in tow that I had dreamed of, I latched on to a couple of girls that I had been playing leapfrog with for the past many miles. We chatted a bit, and they told me about their experience running this event the year before. Their news that the worst of the hills was behind us cheered me considerably, as did their attitude that now with the last hard cutoff of the race also behind us we could just dilly-dally our way to the finish if we wanted. Yay! Even the realization that I still had 15 miles to go couldn't dampen my spirits at that point.<br />
<br />
As the girls planned on walking for a good five minutes before cranking the legs back up again, I decided to trot on ahead (we would play leapfrog still to the finish, as it turns out). I enjoyed the first half of my Snickers - tucking the second half in my pack to save it "for a special occasion" (such as when I was hungry and wanted a Snickers).<br />
<br />
As it turns out, the hills weren't completely behind us at Mile 35. There were still some pretty good ones on the way to mile 40. The leg was starting to bother me again, but I was hoping to avoid taking the second Exedrin if I could help it. Getting out of the woods and hills again and cutting through the prairie, I was super excited to see my friends there to cheer me on! They had gotten lost on the way to the last aid station and felt bad about missing me. We had a nice chat, although I am sure I was a bit out of it. R. was ready to pace me at that point without a bib, but being such an obnoxious rule follower at times I felt I had to turn her down. Although the chances of anyone DQ'ing me at that point (clearly I wasn't a front-runner) were close to zero, I didn't want to take the chance. Besides, a part of me wanted to see if I could do 50 on my own. At this point in the event, it seemed important to try. Of course, that didn't mean I didn't want to see my own personal cheering squad as often as possible, so I was thrilled to see them at all the aid stations heading into the finish, as well as major road crossings!<br />
<br />
Between Miles 40 and 45, there was one last, long hill climb, which I had been warned about by another friend. I enjoyed the second half of my Snickers somewhere in there, and I became a bit more gregarious during the last few remaining interactions with fellow racers. None of us were going to win anything; we were just in it for the finish. With that all but assured at this point in the event, conversations had more of a tinge of "job well done" bonhomie. Everyone was more relaxed, except of course for those who were really still struggling.<br />
<br />
For myself, I definitely felt tired, but I can't say I felt any worse really than I had 10 miles earlier. Mentally, I was ready to be done, but physically, while I wasn't fantastic I also wasn't miserable. I was somewhere in between the two. Everything after that mile 35 cutoff had the feel of "I can do this." There was no hurry. At one point, given my pace I knew I could break 11:30, but that time had passed. I suppose at some point it went through my head if I made an effort I could then get under 12 hours, but now that the end was near the finish time didn't seem to be that important as long as I finished.<br />
<br />
As I approached the Mile 45 aid station, I once again was able to look forward to seeing my parents who at that point had spent the afternoon working the aid station. Seeing them and chatting a bit about their hours there just added to my overall happiness. It was nice to have introduced them to a rewarding experience as well.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sPE-NtyQ6K0/VBsV8QPMMXI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/fwg7kfisrII/s1600/10699173_10203840377441417_1824132126_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sPE-NtyQ6K0/VBsV8QPMMXI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/fwg7kfisrII/s1600/10699173_10203840377441417_1824132126_n.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 45 aid station with mom and dad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then I finished. I continued my run/walk, walking a bit more just because I could. I did take that second Exedrin before the Mile 45 aid station, I believe. My leg was uncomfortable and I didn't want to finish out the race at that level of discomfort. At any level of discomfort, though, I think running into the finish was the best feeling ever.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gVOy12hp9h8/VBsVIUz_M3I/AAAAAAAAAdw/CMnizQFuA-g/s1600/10704786_10203840376321389_771107344_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gVOy12hp9h8/VBsVIUz_M3I/AAAAAAAAAdw/CMnizQFuA-g/s1600/10704786_10203840376321389_771107344_n.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
All in all, I am really happy with my first 50-Mile experience. Unlike my first marathon eight years before, I finished feeling good and ready and willing to take on another similar challenge. I am pleased with my time, too. My average pace was only 14:29 by the end, but that is the average pace of my two 50Ks! That means, I added on 19 miles without significantly lowering my average pace. I am sure a lot of that has to do with the perfect weather conditions, but still - it's enough to encourage me that this ultra distance trail running may not be so outside the realm of possibility for me. In any event, I am already hatching plans for my next event.<br />
<br />
What little was left of the day was spent enjoying the afterglow of finishing. The family, a friend and I all grabbed pizza in town, and then with the kids bundled off to enjoy the warmth and swimming pool of grandma and grandpa's hotel, Andy and I enjoyed an IPA in front of our campfire. I'll spare you the details of my second sleepless night where every move meant roaring discomfort and I finally felt hungry again at 2 a.m., meaning I had to leave the warm sleeping bag to scrounge around for food in our car. But, I will leave you with something someone once told me - if you feel like you might want to do an ultra, then do one. Don't worry about whether you can finish it or not. But if the feeling is there, you might as well follow it. I am glad I did.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xvOiQxFvbZY/VBsVIgNGFVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/lSDiHm1cOAA/s1600/10695087_10203840372641297_662708272_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xvOiQxFvbZY/VBsVIgNGFVI/AAAAAAAAAd0/lSDiHm1cOAA/s1600/10695087_10203840372641297_662708272_n.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IPA in hand. Now I am really done.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-85494203097950527362014-04-21T11:50:00.001-05:002014-04-21T12:04:14.451-05:00Zumbro 17-Mile Trail Run Race Report<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7986sM6LO1Y/U1VEtHhyVbI/AAAAAAAAAbE/_yPfYEH19Wo/s1600/20140412_134640-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7986sM6LO1Y/U1VEtHhyVbI/AAAAAAAAAbE/_yPfYEH19Wo/s1600/20140412_134640-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mud-covered post-run. (Sorry about the lack <br />
of pictures you will find here, but I knew I would be<br />
slow enough without playing the tourist.) </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Friday, April 11, 2014, was a beautiful
day in the upper Midwest. Driving from Wisconsin to Minnesota past
rolling farm fields, crossing the famed Mississippi River, and then
continuing our journey along the bluffs of The Big Muddy was an
exercise in contentment. The weather was perfect. Not too warm, not
too cold. Clear skies. Even a bit of sun. It was the perfect start
to what would be an imperfect race weekend – at least weather-wise.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The husband and I were on our way to
the Zumbro 17-Mile Trail Race in Theilman, Minnesota. The 17-Miler
was actually the “short” run, part of a wider 100-mile and
50-mile event, which had st<span style="background: transparent;">arted
that day at 8 a.m. As we pulled into Olive Garden in Onalaska,
Wisconsin, for dinner, we mulled over the fact that the 100-milers had already
been on the trail for 10 hours. As we crossed Ol' Man River into</span>
the dying sun and then turned north towards the hotel we would be
staying at, we noted that the 50-milers would be starting in about
five hours at 12:01 a.m., spending the first seven hours of their
journey in utter darkness. We, on the other hand, doing the short
race, had the luxury of leisurely driving into the area, getting a
decent night's sleep at the AmericInn in Wabasha, Minnesota, (of
Grumpy Old Men movie fame, apparently), and having a lovely breakfast
before driving to our relatively late start of 9 a.m., well-rested
and ready to go.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then it rained.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f0aJq34_RIs/U1VEr23PG_I/AAAAAAAAAa0/6ZDGpWADs2M/s1600/20140412_081657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f0aJq34_RIs/U1VEr23PG_I/AAAAAAAAAa0/6ZDGpWADs2M/s1600/20140412_081657.jpg" height="346" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting in the car at the campground start. Rain, rain, go away....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Waking up on Saturday morning to a very
light drizzle was not the worst thing in the world, especially after
the weather man on the local news noted that any rain would be
passing by 9 a.m. (our start time). It should be noted that the
“local” news was from the Twin Cities, approximately 90 miles
northwest of our race start.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Driving from our hotel in Wabasha into
the Zumbro River Bottoms Management Area, where the race was staged,
the light drizzle became a bit more emphatic. Pulling into the
campground, emphatic became even more insistent as thunder and
lightning entered the fray. By the time we had parked our car and
gotten our race bibs, the rain had become a downright downpour with
some hail thrown in for good measure. It was 8:15 a.m. We still had
45 minutes to the start.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gkMACtPeNjQ/U1VErybjt0I/AAAAAAAAAaw/7WxvUjueJr8/s1600/20140412_083649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gkMACtPeNjQ/U1VErybjt0I/AAAAAAAAAaw/7WxvUjueJr8/s1600/20140412_083649.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, I didn't say that it was big hail, but still....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sitting in the car, waiting for 9 a.m.,
watching the weather steamroll over us, I was hard-pressed to
remember why I had actually signed up for this event. After all, I
had just spent almost five months trying to rehab an ornery IT band
and now was dealing with a grumpy hip flexor and/or groin muscle.
(Hard to say where that pinching is coming from.) I had jokingly
told my friends that if my plan of slowly getting back into running
while simultaneously training for a 17-mile trail race worked, I
would write a book.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The fact is, though, that ever since
running the Moose Mountain Marathon the previous September on the
Superior Trail on the North Shore of Minnesota, I had fallen in love
with Rock Steady Running's events. They do trail races well. With
Zumbro, I wanted to see what else they had.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Back in the car, we slowly got
ourselves ready: making last-minute clothing changes as dictated by
the rain and 40-something-degree weather, pinning bib numbers,
prepping hydration, etc. As it approached 9 a.m., the sky began to
brighten; the rain let up a bit and then miraculously ceased. It was
time to run.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4rmhgebAczg/U1VErvoA7UI/AAAAAAAAAas/e2g9RP74I8g/s1600/20140412_084250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4rmhgebAczg/U1VErvoA7UI/AAAAAAAAAas/e2g9RP74I8g/s1600/20140412_084250.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Zumbro 100, 50, and 17-mile trail
races are located in the Zumbro River Bottoms Management Area in
southern Minnesota's Bluff Country. It lies within a portion of the
Richard J. Dorer Memorial Hardwood Forest. The race is run mostly on
single- and double-track trail, with a couple of stretches on gravel
maintenance road thrown in for good measure. The net elevation
change is 6,196 feet: 3,098 feet up and 3,098 feet down. The 17-mile
race is actually a 16.7-mile loop that leaves the campground, wends
its way along trails with names such as West Scenic Trail, Bridge
Trail, Old Pump Trail, Ant Hill Trail, and Sand Slide Trail, to name
a few, before landing you back at the campground. The 50-milers do
three of these loops. The 100-milers six.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There are four aid stations out on the
course. It's approximately three miles to Aid Station 1 (AS1), 4.3
miles to AS2, 2.7 miles to AS3, almost 4 miles to AS4, and then
another 2.7 miles to the finish.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, enough of the statistics. How did
the race go?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After a relatively low-key start, the
200 or so odd 17-mile runners headed out across the campground. The
main occupation at this point was dodging the puddles that had popped
up all over the campground. As time would soon tell there wasn't
much point in that. Approaching the trailhead, our merry band of
misfits slowed to a walk as we all tried to squeeze onto the
single-track. Being at the back of the pack, this wasn't that
unusual. Much like the Keweenaw and Moose Mountain runs I had done
last year, I was used to the fact that when you are getting funneled
onto single-track, you can't really expect to go any faster than the
folks in front of you. Given that in this race, the funneling point
was immediately followed by an uphill, I knew that we'd be walking
for a few minutes. So, I passed the time by chatting with the folks
around me: spouses of 100-milers, the undertrained-but-determined,
and Hoka aficionados. Good conversations all.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At some point on this uphill slog, it
became clear that we were going to be running through some mud, as if
the booming thunderstorm before the start and the huge puddles in the
campground hadn't been clue enough to that fact. Even so, I was still
naively unclear as to what the ramifications for this would be. I
started to catch on as we approached our first downhill segment.
Looking ahead on the trail, I could see that those further up the
conga line we had formed were starting to head downhill and they were
still walking. My cohorts around me and I laughed and wondered what
the hold up was. Reaching the top of our little single-track hill in
the woods, looking down at what awaited us, though, it became quite
clear. The downhills were going to be beautiful messes of
chute-shaped mud. And, it was slippery. The only way to navigate it
without falling would be a) to either go off trail (which was
brush-choked) or b) head down the slippery slide, grabbing trees as
you went. I chose B. For the next 16.5-miles, the single-track
descents were often to become a carefully choreographed dance as I
basically slid from tree to tree. After the race, my shoulders would
be sore from all the upper-body work I had done, both trying to keep
myself from falling on the downhills and to help pull myself up on
the uphills.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5TMeAfZsx8A/U1VE_f7SRhI/AAAAAAAAAbU/T6svIOIRuR0/s1600/20140412_141147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5TMeAfZsx8A/U1VE_f7SRhI/AAAAAAAAAbU/T6svIOIRuR0/s1600/20140412_141147.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Example of the hills we scaled.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of course, there were runnable hills,
too. (For me, naturally, that refers to downhills, as I walk uphill
as a rule.) Those mainly were the trails that had a lot of rocks or
roots poking out so that I could jump from one to the other, were
somewhat navigable off-trail, or whose mud had been so churned up
that you could essentially plant your heel in it as you ran down,
i.e., turning it almost into a downhill stair run versus a hill.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
About twenty minutes into the race,
just in case the course weren't muddy enough, it started to rain
again, and not just any rain – a thunderstorm. I don't think I
have ever run in thunder and lightning before, so that was a new
experience. I kept thinking about the Pikes Peak Ascent I had done
in 2011 and how paranoid they had been about running during a
thunderstorm. Of course, that was at 14,000 feet and above treeline;
this was only at about 1,000 feet and in the woods. I kept telling
myself that this wasn't really a big deal. And it wasn't. The worst
part about it was that it got me wet. Up until that point, I had
enjoyed the illusion that I might manage to keep everything above the
ankles dry.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The whole race wasn't run up or down
hills, of course. There were some nice, flat runnable sections, but
even these turned out to be more of a challenge than they otherwise
might have been. Single-track was transformed into a slippery,
narrow chute, while double-track tended to be flooded. With the
latter, the choice was either to run through t<span style="background: transparent;">he
puddles, or try to pick your way around. My choice throughout the
race was to tiptoe my way around the puddles. Mentally, I am sure
the option of picking my way carefully through the ankle-deep mud to
the side of the trail seemed like a drier proposition than picking my
way through the ankle-deep puddles </span><i><span style="background: transparent;">and</span></i><span style="background: transparent;">
mud down the middle of the trail. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: transparent;">To
be honest, it didn't even occur to me to plow through the puddles
until coming out of the first aid station, when I witnessed a tired
looking 100- or 50-miler resolutely walking straight through the
middle of the flooded trail. I remember thinking that person must be
really whipped to have given up on trying to keep her feet dry. What
I should have realized was that, really, I was fooling myself. My
feet weren't dry and they weren't going to dry during this event. In
the end, I decided that I should have just followed that
ultrarunner's lead. Running through the puddles would have saved me
not only time, but effort. Surely, despite the water, the center of
the trail would have required less effort than picking around the
overhanging brush while navigating the sketchy footing at the trail's
edge. Lessons learned for next time.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: transparent;">It
would be hard for me to remember this entire race, blow-by-blow,
given how distracted I was by the muddy conditions, however a few
things stand out to me about this event. Regarding the trail itself,
it was a fantastic mix of different challenges. I am not a really
strong runner, so as I get tired the flat sections lose their charm
for me. But I love power-walking up the hills and running the
downhills – even late in the race. This event had a great mix of
everything. Plenty of hills, but also enough flat sections to keep
the flat-land runners happy. The footing did not seem too technical
to me. There were a couple of rocky sections, but for the most part,
the trail was fair. Of course, I can't judge too well given all the
mud. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: transparent;">There
was one stretch in the middle of the race that seemed to dry out,
because the soil was more sandy. That was great until the race put
you into a dry creek bottom. There was a decent stretch where you
were running through sand. Not a little sand, but like on a beach –
and it wasn't hard-packed. I chose to walk m</span>uch of this,
because it seemed to take a lot of strength that I didn't have to
power through it. Making up for the sandy part was what seemed like
a mile-long stretch of dirt road as we approached Aid Station 4. For
people who run well, this would be a boon. I had a 50-miler pass me
on this stretch, because she said the flat sections gave her her
energy back. After being up and down hills so much (and given that I
had only been doing a run/walk as I recovered from my injury), I
found this section to be a slog. I ran/walked it, but as this came around the same time that my 13-mile “wall” did, I was feeling pretty pooped. I was happy
to have this section behind me after the last aid station and to get
back to some hills for the final stretch.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I didn't wear a watch for this race,
and I didn't wear <span style="background: transparent;">the run/walk
interval timer I had been training with to get back into running.
With a nine-hour time limit on the event, I knew I had the luxury of
lollygagging if I wanted/needed to. The event for me was a slow one,
for sure. I finished at about 4:45. To be honest, my goal time</span>
in dry conditions had only been 4:15, so to have missed it by only a
half hour given all the mud, I was happy.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In fact, I can honestly say that
overall I really did enjoy the run. I had a smile on my face for the
first thirteen miles, which coincidentally is the length of my
longest training run for this event. The area itself is beautiful.
The climbs are tough but manageable, and the sweeping views you see
of the river once you get up there are fantastic. I enjoyed the loop
concept that allowed me to feel I was running with people for the
entire race. Even as my 17-mile field thinned out, there were 50-
and 100-milers still out there to talk to.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am happy that I only had to do one
loop, though. If I were in it for the 50- or 100-miler, I think
mentally I would have a hard time. I am not a huge fan of multiple
loops for long runs anyway, but one that has the challenges this one
has would be especially hard. I mean, after being quit of that sandy section, I would have been less than thrilled to realize that I had to do it two (or five!) more times. I really give a lot of credit to the
folks who did it. Again, though, I am biased by the conditions we
had. I talked to several of the longer distance runners on the trail
and they all said they enjoyed the run. For most of their race, they
were able to enjoy pleasant, dry weather conditions. It only got
hard at the end, but then doesn't any race even without the
thunderstorms?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I definitely think this is a race worth
doing, and if it were something that was closer to home for me, I
know I would be out there again. As it is, I think I might enjoy
getting back to it someday. I would love to run these trails in fair
conditions...and maybe next time take some pictures.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-16220665818620573042014-03-17T09:47:00.001-05:002014-03-17T09:47:30.580-05:00Monday Mischung<div>
<b>St. Pat's 5K Run/Walk </b></div>
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Yes, I did. Injury and all. I wasn't planning on it. Truly. But when you wake up in the morning and find yourself overwhelmed with the desire to do a race (after months of indifference), you just go with it. At least I did.</div>
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Yesterday was the local St. Pat's 10-Miler and 5K. Last year, because it was on St. Patrick's Day, it was a 17K, which I ran. You can see my race report <a href="http://talesfromanaveragerunner.blogspot.com/2013/03/st-paddys-day-17k-sick-sicker-and.html">here</a>. It wasn't the best day, and - as with so many races that don't go well - I swore I would never do it again. Well, I lied to myself apparently, because yesterday I did it again, albeit the short version.</div>
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Waking up in the morning, I had no intention of doing a 5K. In fact, my schedule had a one-hour run/walk planned for me. This is my down week, as I am trying valiantly to build up time on my feet during my weekend long "efforts" while recovering (hopefully) from this IT band injury. I am using Galloway's run/walk method to slowly get myself running more, and right now I am at a 1:30 run to 3:30 walk interval. I am being VERY conservative getting back into this. Why? Well, that is the topic of another post, but in short the ITB is still bugging me a bit and I don't ever, ever, ever want to piss it off again. </div>
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Anyway, like I said, I had no intention of doing any sort of race, but while getting the kids ready to join my parents for church I saw the local news guys at the start of the St. Pat's run/walk. All of the sudden, without any explanation, I got really excited about the idea of replacing my one hour run/walk with this 5K. Since the folks in the background didn't look like they were about ready to head out (it was 7:30 a.m.), I told myself that if I looked online and the race didn't start until 9, then I would do it. Seeing as the course wasn't that far from me made this doable. So, I looked and the decision was made.</div>
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Next began a mad rush to choke down some oatmeal and get dressed in the multiple layers required for 6 degrees (thankfully, above zero). I tried to take special care of how I dressed since I am getting over a head cold. I certainly didn't want this madness to result in making the cold worse. </div>
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The race itself was just what I needed. I got there, registered, stuffed the shirt they gave me in my puffy jacket pocket, and then found some friends from the local running community to chat with. It was a great morning of nominal anonymity as I made this first foray into running events this year. (I don't count the Samson Stomp in January, as I wasn't excited about that one really.)</div>
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Starting out the event, I had every intention of sticking to my 1:30/3:30 interval split, but one gets caught up in the crowd and the first time I actually looked down at my watch, I was already approaching 4 minutes of running. It did flit through my mind to just go with it, but then my head overtook my heart and I decided to drop back to a walk and do the rest of the 5K at my modest run/walk intervals. </div>
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So, how did I do? Well, given that the walk interval is two minutes longer than the running one, I would have expected finishing somewhere north of 40 minutes. However, according to my watch, I finished 3.11 miles in 35:31. That's better than some 5Ks I have run with slower friends, and not much slower than some I have just run on my own. Woot! And that leads me to my next Mischung topic....namely....</div>
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<b>walking</b></div>
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In all honesty, I can say that if there is one thing I am pleased with - as a result of this injury - is my walking. I set out to use this time, inasmuch as I could, to teach myself how to walk quickly, as I have always been a dawdle walker. And, I think I have succeeded. During the race yesterday, I walked fast, at times 13:30 pace or faster. But, the most amazing thing, is I was quite comfortable doing so. I wasn't huffing and puffing. During these fast walk breaks, I was quite capable of catching my breath. Now, this tells me a couple of things: first, that with proper technique I am sure I could walk much faster, and, second, that I am ready to take on some longer trail ultras (at least mentally). I am not that fast of a runner, but I always figured that more than anything it was the walking that slowed me down. Not because of the walking itself (because a lot of folks do that on trail ultras), but rather because I walk so slowly. I think that has changed now, and I am excited by that.</div>
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<b>heart-rate-monitor training</b><div>
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It sucks. I have given up. It's hopeless. Okay. That's the short story. The long story is - in brief - that I was getting seriously frustrated by the fact that I wasn't seeing any results big enough to record. There may have been micro-gains here and there but it wasn't enough to keep me motivated. I think if I were to try this again (which I probably will at some point), I would need to be in a better place to start with. I know, that is probably cheating somehow. But, when I do this I want to be able to run...not be in that no-man's land of the run/walk. Also, it would help to have a coach (or cheerleader) to jolly me along when the going got tough. I know, I am high-maintenance like that. Anyway, I am sure there is something to it, but I just wasn't ready to take the time to figure it out yet.</div>
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<b>vo2 testing</b></div>
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At our running club's volunteer appreciation dinner recently, I actually won a free session of VO2 testing. I don't have too much to say about this yet, but I am excited about it and will write it up once I have done it.</div>
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<b>So, that's all...</b> for today. Happy St. Patrick's Day! </div>
Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-29000096947805791612014-02-10T11:14:00.001-06:002014-02-10T11:14:01.567-06:00Monday MischungSo, in today's Monday Mischung, my first post since last week's Monday Mischung, I give you in no particular order some happenings from the past week:<br />
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<b>facebook</b></div>
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For the first time since I joined Facebook, I took a completely premeditated break from it. Of course, I have taken a hiatus here and there before due to vacation and just being busy, but this was the first time I told myself to give it a rest. So, I did. On Wednesday of last week I announced my intentions to the Facebook world (because I thought if I didn't give myself some accountability, I would cave), and then shut it down for five days - until this morning, in fact. </div>
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<b>..... the reason why</b></div>
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So why give up Facebook anyway? Well, the short answer was simply that I realized that I was on it way too much. That's the big picture. The actual catalyst was that I posted something and didn't get many responses from it. To be brutally honest, my feelings were a bit hurt by that. Peevish? Perhaps. But, see, that was the problem. Not that I didn't get many responses, but that I cared about it. The fact that I was <i>bothered</i> by the lack of response drove me to shut 'er down. In one swift aha moment, it became clear to me that I had started to invest way too much into this medium. I needed to get a grip. Social media can open us up to all sorts of rejection on many levels, but that is only if you care. For me, Facebook is a great way to follow interests, groups, runs, and organizations I like; it's a fun way to stay in contact with friends, too. But that's all I want it to be. I want it to be a source of information and amusement. I don't want to <i>care</i> about it. So, it was time to back off.<br />
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<b>..... so how did it go?</b><br />
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Really well, surprisingly. It was refreshing actually to not feel like I had to check Facebook 100 times a day to see if someone had posted anything. I came to realize exactly how much time I spend if not on the site, then thinking about it - wondering if someone responded to something I posted, curious if a friend had posted a status update. Giving myself permission to NOT go out there actually was kind of a relief. The few times I did think about it, I was almost relieved that I didn't have to go check anything. It was like a random thought that flitted into and out of my mind. And I really stuck to my word. I didn't go to Facebook once in those five days. By the time this morning rolled around, I had found a kind of peace that I was loathe to disturb, and I have to admit it was with a bit of reluctance that I did check Facebook this morning. But, alas, curiosity got the better of me...<br />
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<b>..... lessons learned</b><br />
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I learned a couple of lessons these past five days.<br />
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<li>Allowing myself to NOT go on social media, I felt a lot more at peace for some reason. Maybe it was because I didn't feel like my thoughts were always on the virtual world as well as the real one in front of my eyes.</li>
<li>I don't really need to know everything that is going on in people's lives. Sometimes it is fun to run into someone at a running store expo and really be able to find out (and be happily surprised) by what is happening in their lives, rather than starting every conversation with "oh, yeah, I saw that on Facebook."</li>
<li>I need to set up some rules for myself going forward. I like staying in touch with people and knowing a bit of what is going on, so I doubt I will give up Facebook completely. However, I need to limit my access to it, so that I am not stopping by the computer 20 times <i>just to see</i> what's happening. What a time suck that is.</li>
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<b>running and exercise life</b></div>
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I have to say I still don't really have my mojo back with this yet, and I am starting to wonder if I ever will. I have been exercising six days a week, and the injury isn't bothering me as much as it was. It is definitely still there, though. Here is the past week's breakdown:</div>
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<u>Monday</u>: Rest Day</div>
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<u>Tuesday</u>: Treadmill walk/run for 55 minutes, PT exercises</div>
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<u>Wednesday</u>: Rowing for 6.9K in 40 minutes</div>
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<u>Thursday</u>: Treadmill walk/run for 55 minutes, shoveled for 30 minutes, abbreviated PT exercises (back was bothered by the shoveling)</div>
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<u>Friday</u>: Rowing for 22 minutes (time was short due to other obligations), so quasi-rest day for me</div>
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<u>Saturday</u>: Cross-country skiing for 3 miles, two-hour restorative yoga workshop</div>
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<u>Sunday</u>: Treadmill walk/run for 80 minutes (5.3 miles), PT exercises and arm exercises</div>
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<b>heart rate monitor training</b></div>
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I am still wearing the heart rate monitor for exercise and attempting to keep in that low fat-burning zone. Having done this for three weeks now, my summary of the experience so far is this is tough. I should probably write up a longer post on this, but suffice it to say that when you are trying to stay within 10 heart beats of a certain range, this becomes more of an exercise in frustration than anything else it seems. </div>
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Maybe it is just me, but because I am stuck somewhere between a run and a walk right now, I find myself constantly having to fiddle with my pace or the incline to stay within the range I need. I did have a very good session on the treadmill on Tuesday where I was running for a lot longer than I had been previously - upwards of two minutes at times! By comparison, yesterday's long "run" became mostly a walk as my heart rate just kept soaring every time I started to run. I may have been tired from the previous evening or the two glasses of wine I had drunk, but in any event...frustrating. <br />
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At the same time, I have to admit that yesterday's failure to execute was eye-opening in its own right. How many times have I gone on a run and just felt "off?" Perhaps it <i>was</i> the wine the night before, or maybe I stayed up too late. Maybe I was coming down with a cold. The fact is, though, that there have been plenty of times when I have felt that off feeling, pushed myself to run anyway, and then paid for it - either by being wiped out, injuring myself, or just feeling poorly. The books and experts would have you listen to your body in these circumstances, but what if you are no good and listening to what it is telling you? Yesterday's treadmill experience was enlightening, because I did feel a bit off, but I never would have slowed my pace if it hadn't been for the heart rate monitor telling me to do so. So, in the end, frustrating but intriguing. </div>
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As stated, I have been doing the heart rate monitor thing for three weeks now, and I have to start giving some thought as to where to go from here. The original article I read suggested that if you hadn't been injured for longer than three months then you should follow this low heart rate regimen for only one month. That would mean that by the end of this week I could start following my uninjured heart rate recommendation, which would allow me five more heart beats a minute. That means instead of having to stay within a range of 122-132 heart beats per minute, I could bump up to 127-137 heart beats per minute. That may not sound like much, but I have to believe that might be the difference between a frustrated walk/run and being able to run very, very slowly. </div>
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Unfortunately, though, since my injury has STILL not gone completely away, I feel that I should keep at the lower HB recommendation for two more months (what is recommended to treat chronic injuries). </div>
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Of course, the thought has crossed my mind that this whole heart rate monitor training stuff could be a bunch of hooey, which could mean I am wasting precious weeks of recovery. However, since I started doing it I haven't missed a day of exercise due to an injury flare-up. That's a positive, right? I guess I will just continue to take this one day at a time. The alternative, as far as I can see, is to just cease all activity for a while, and that isn't an option for me.</div>
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<b>coconut oil</b></div>
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So, given that this post is way too long as it is, I think I will wrap it up with one last observation. Coconut Oil. I mentioned a while back that I was experimenting with using coconut oil as a hand lotion. I have chronically dry hands, and the only thing that seems to help them is a steroid medication I got from my dermatologist. Since I hate taking prescription drugs of any kind, I thought I would give coconut oil a go. I had heard a lot of good things about it, so why not? Well, unfortunately, it seems to be drying my hands out even further! I didn't want to believe it was the coconut oil, so I tried it for a couple of weeks. There is no denying now, however, that it seems to be causing my skin (even on the backs of my hands) to become more dry and even red and irritated. Part of me realizes that when you are living somewhere where the temperature is hovering around zero for months on end and static is your constant companion, it could just be that nothing would help. But, I keep dreaming of the day I find some natural product that can keep my hands healthy. I guess I will just keep dreaming.</div>
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Happy Running!</div>
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Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-44481287197073744132014-02-03T13:51:00.001-06:002014-02-03T13:51:19.595-06:00Monday MischungI have 30 minutes to write this blog, so if the quality of writing is not up to the stellar standards I have set thus far, you will know why.<br />
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<b>workout week</b><br />
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In today's Monday Mischung, I will start out with a brief summary of what my workout week looked like. It was as follows:<br />
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<b>Monday:</b> <u>Rest</u>. Well, that was easy.<br />
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<b>Tuesday: </b><u>Rowing</u> - 6 kilometers; 3 sets of <u>PT exercises</u>.<br />
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<b>Wednesday: </b><u>Walking/Running on Treadmill</u> - 3.4 miles in 50 minutes.<br />
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<b>Thursday:</b> <u>Rowing</u> - 6.7 kilometers; 3 sets of <u>PT exercises</u>.<br />
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<b>Friday: </b><u>Yoga</u> class; <u>Walking on Treadmill</u> - 3+ miles in 50 minutes; 2 sets of three <u>arm exercises</u><br />
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<b>Saturday:</b> <u>Rowing</u> - 5K in 30 minutes; 3 sets of <u>PT exercises</u>.<br />
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<b>Sunday: </b><u>XC Skiing</u> - 80 minutes; 2 sets of <u>PT exercises</u><br />
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<b>Today: </b><u>Rest</u>.<br />
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Summary: I am happy with the consistency of getting some exercise done. I am trying very hard to exercise in my fat burning, inflammation-prevention zone, and that is proving hard. Obviously, I am limited to mostly walking on the treadmill, otherwise my HR spikes. So, I try to mix it up with short, slow run bursts, fast walking, and slower walking at an incline. My HR tends to float higher than it should before I can scale things back and get it where it needs to be, and I don't know how detrimental those indiscretions are to this whole experiment. This whole HR thing is a learning curve, one that I am determined to master.<br />
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While the treadmill is a challenge, rowing with the heart rate monitor seems to be easier. There, my issue is that my heart rate tends to get too low. So, I am dropping off the bottom of my ideal heart rate zone. On the positive side, though, I have to say that keeping more or less to my fat burning heart rate, I feel I could row forever - not something I have had the pleasure of knowing before.<br />
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As to cross-country skiing, I have not worn my heart rate monitor, so I don't know what I am doing there. My guess is that it is too high for my fat burning zone, but until I strap on the HRM, I won't know. Maybe next opportunity I get, I will try the HRM.<br />
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<b>pt exercises</b><br />
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As you can see, I have been fairly consistent with my PT exercises. I was initially shooting for every other day, but now I think I will settle for doing them Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. I think every day is probably ideal, but I know that I would get burned out doing them so often. With this schedule, I know I can be more consistent and hang in there longer. I hope they are still doing some good. For the record, my PT exercises consist of 10 reps of each of the following exercises: clam with band, sidestep with band, a hamstring circuit with a balance ball (three different exercises x 10 each), one-legged squats, and calf raises. It takes me aobut ten minutes to complete each set, so you can see this is quite the time investment (especially when I do three sets) and I wouldn't be doing them if I didn't think they would help.<br />
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<b>injury</b><br />
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Is it getting better? I sure as hell hope so. I have to say, though, that I don't know for a fact. It definitely feels better. This injury at its worst made my knee feel like it was going to pop with every step. In other words, it felt like it was running off its track. It was sore enough that I couldn't walk without a limp and I was constantly in fear that I was going to irritate it further. At this time, I can say I haven't had that knee-weirdness problem for a good week and a half or so. And that is brilliant! The not-so-good news is that there is a lingering soreness on the outside of my leg (mid-IT band), and that doesn't seem to want to go away anytime soon. It seems to get a bit sore with my rowing and treadmill work, but it doesn't hurt, per se, so I am hoping going back to its old pre-injury normal before finally dissipating. I am trying to be consistent with foam rolling and stretching, but to be honest I see both of these activities as a minor irritation in my days, and as such they sometimes get swept under the mental carpet where I can't see them.<br />
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I continue to tread carefully though, and while I am optimistically seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, with that comes also the worry that I will never completely trust my IT band again. I have never had an injury that lingered for so long (and kept me from running!). If this does clear up, I feel I will freak out anytime there is a twinge over there. Post-traumatic injury syndrome?<br />
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<b>skiing</b><br />
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I still love skiing, but I really need to learn to manage hills and turns better. Yesterday's ski loop saw me going down that little hill (with the curve and wood sign) again. That's the one I wiped out on the first time I tried it, and then conquered - much to my delight - the last time I went down it. Yesterday, it was the hill's turn to dominate as I wiped out once again. I do give myself a lot of credit, though, as there were NO groomed tracks down the hill this time. The snow was flat and hard-packed. The fact that I even decided to give it a go still makes me shake my head with wonder. Anyway, the bad news about all this is that somehow I yanked my big toe quite strangely when I fell over at the bottom. It's still sore today. Hopefully this won't be another long, drawn out process of healing. All this injury recovery stuff is starting to set my teeth on edge.<br />
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<b>lunch challenge</b><br />
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So, I finished my personal wellness challenge of eating a rawish lunch every day and it went well. I did botch three days, but I made up for them by tacking on some extra days. All in all, I have to say that I do feel better for having done the challenge. I think that my gut was much happier on the whole by the time I was done, and I really have started craving fruits and veggies. I can definitely see continuing this indefinitely. <br />
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<b>superbowl</b><br />
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Did anyone else watch the Superbowl last night? What a snooze fest. I felt sorry for Denver, who I was voting for by the way. They just seemed to have a bad day. My kids were thrilled that Seattle won, though, so I can be happy for them. Why Seattle? Well, following the train of thought that the enemy to my enemy is my friend, my daughter decided Seattle deserved her vote because they beat San Francisco, who of course was the team that quashed the Packers' hopes of a Superbowl run - so, obviously, they must be on our side. Obviously. <br />
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Time's up and time to go.<br />
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Happy Running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2104840882214526893.post-24325227080931522622014-01-29T11:23:00.004-06:002014-01-29T11:23:45.792-06:00What's the Rush?It's Wednesday, hump day for many people. For me it is the start of a crazy busy five days, and I have about five minutes to tell you about it.<br />
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So, for people who NEVER get invited to do anything, this is a week of showing us how wrong we can be. Between the four of us who live in this house, we have three parties and one sleepover we are invited to. I will let you guess who is going where, because really that doesn't matter. What does matter is that we have a lot going on. Add to that two karate classes, one yoga class, gift buying for two different kids, food making for one event, and skiing on Sunday, and I think I will be ready to sleep for twelve hours straight Sunday night - after <i>Dowton Abbey </i>and <i>Sherlock</i>, of course.<br />
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Somewhere around all that I plan to fit in two treadmill sessions and at least one rowing session. <br />
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Speaking of which, I just finished my first walk/RUN on the treadmill since starting my heart-rate-monitor return-to-fitness routine. I actually was able to run a bit at 12:30 pace while staying within my prescribed, inflammation-avoidance zone. Of course, by "staying within" I mean I bounced a couple beats high when I ran and a couple of beats low when I walked. It's turning out to be really hard to keep in the zone I need without erring either too high or too low. If nothing else, that is what makes this approach to exercise frustrating. More on that in another post, however.<br />
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The good news, though, was that I got to RUN again for a little bit. Generally, as far as I could tell, I was managing about a one minute run to one minute walk. I did that for 35 minutes. So, with warm up and cool down and a bit of walking at incline at the end of the run/walk, I got in 50 minutes of quality exercise and 3.4 miles. I followed that up with a bit of stretching and some upper body weight work. (I have not done arm weights in about two years, but it suddenly sounded like a good idea. I'll let you know if it was in the next day or two.) I will also be very curious to see if my leg backslides at all in the next couple of days.<br />
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By the way, while on the treadmill, I listened to a great <a href="http://ultrarunnerpodcast.com/candice-burt-interview/">Ultrarunner Podcast interview with Candace Burt</a>, who recently came in second female at H.U.R.T. 100. She is also the race director for the new Tahoe 200 Mile Trail Race coming up this year. Anyway, good listen if you have the time.<br />
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Of course, I decided to celebrate my run/walk by negating all the calories I had just burned with a piece of vegan banana-walnut-chocolate-chip cake with chocolate ganache that I baked last night.<br />
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My daughter was thrilled by the idea of the cake, since - as she put it - I never bake cakes. However, I don't know if she was thrilled with the cake itself, bananas and nuts not really being her thing. My son just licked off the frosting being no kind of cake lover at all. The husband thought it was okay. He's not a huge cake fan either, but as he stated this wasn't really cake and it wasn't really banana bread; it was somewhere inbetween. I took that to mean, he wasn't wowed either. I thought it was okay, but as with a lot of vegan baking the texture was a bit dense. Ah well, back to the drawing board, I guess. <br />
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Healthy lunch today will be a smoothie!<br />
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Happy Running!Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12448886852257091786noreply@blogger.com1