All in Stride

I am almost always painfully aware of any irritation, chafing, or blister on my part of my body while on a run.  Naturally, my feet are especially sensitive.  Oddly, however, on my last two runs, I was completely oblivious to the growing pain on my heel until the moment I stopped running.

I wore the wrong socks during Thursday's track workout.  Or rather, I forgot that these socks don't work with the shoes I packed in my gym bag.  They slipped down my heel and left it exposed for my shoe to rub raw.  I didn't notice it until then end of my cool-down run when I heading into my office building.  For the most part, it was severe enough to cause me more than a little discomfort, but this morning, even though I wore the right socks this time, I put a bandaid on my heel and was good to go.  

Or so I thought.  I don't think I was even a mile into my run when I felt something hitting my other foot.  I looked down and saw that the bandaid had nearly come off and was flapping around.  I pulled it off and kept running.  After all, it didn't seem to hurt, and my sock was staying in place.  When we finished our 6-miler, I looked down at my foot to check on my blister, and it was a gross sight.  I'll spare you the details, only to say that the back of my sock was no longer blue.  As I walked back to my car I realized I was limping a bit, and when I got in my car I couldn't take it anymore.  I took off my shoes and socks, threw them in the back, and drove home barefoot.  

When I walked in house, my husband cringed a bit and said it looked bad.  I shrugged it off and headed into the shower to rinse off the mud on my legs and the blood on my foot.  The sting of the water caused me to wince - I probably even swore some.  When I came out and hobbled over to the kitchen to put some neosporin on, my husband said it sounded like it hurt.  But in the same breath he admired how I don't let the pain bother me.  I paused for a moment.  In general I'd disagree.  I have the lowest pain threshold of just about anyone I know.  I am a wimp.  But I guess I'm different when it comes to running.  I may not tolerate agonizing pain when I'm running, but I will ignore a lot more than when I'm not running.  Maybe it's the distraction of running or maybe it's because my brain expects some level of discomfort.  Either way, I find it a lot easier to just take it all in stride.  Battle wounds and all.

Miles: 6
Time: 54:00
Pace: 9:00

My next planned race is the Bridge to Brews 10k on April 15.  Last year, I ran a PR, and quite honestly, it was my best race ever in my adult life.  All the running stars were aligned for me on that day: great weather, a good and proper warm up beforehand, and a strong, healthy body.   Ever since then, I have had to push myself to run as fast for half the distance.

This year, I really want to knock off at least a minute of last year's time.  I think it's doable.  But I think I will need to properly train, and as long as I'm healthy, I'll need to stick to the plan.  I've been intrigued by the Furman Institute's training methodology, whose basic idea is to run fewer times during the week but to make each run a hard run.  There are three basic runs to the plan: track, tempo, and long.  All three runs really push the pace, and the miles on a given day are anywhere between 5 and 10 miles.  Based on last year's race, I calculated my paces for the various workouts, and this is what I came up with:

Track: 7:30-7:55, depending on the interval distance
Tempo: 8:30 or 8:45, depending on the number of tempo miles
Long: 9:00

Admittedly, this sent me in a slight panic.  I can handle the pace for long runs.  My comfortable pace is about 9:10/9:15, so pushing it slightly faster would just mean more pauses between sentences.  But 7:30 track miles?  Anything under 8 minutes is so unfathomable for me right now that I might as well be breaking the sound barrier.  

According to the training plan, I would need to begin next week, so I decided to go run a trial track workout.  The first week's workout calls for 8x400s, and according to the pace chart, that put me at a target of 1:52.5, a 7:30/min pace.  I was going to just run 4 intervals and see how I felt or if I could even go that pace past the first lap.  

Since I have no idea what that pace feels like, I ran somewhere between what my usual fast pace feels like and a full on sprint.  I hit the first 200m and thought I was going to die, so I slowed down.  I finished the lap in 1:42, 10 seconds too fast!  Crap, I thought, Nevermind my shortened workout, I'm not going to make it through the second interval at this rate.  That was way too fast.  As a gauge, I ran the second interval at what felt like a typical tempo run for me, which seemed considerably slower than the first interval, but I clocked it at 1:50.  Yes, slower than the first one but still faster than my target.  I ran the third lap as a schizophrenic runner who couldn't decide if she wanted to slow down or speed up, but I came in at 1:49.  I found a consistent pace in the fourth lap, but I was starting to fatigue.  Still, I finished it at 1:47.  

I'm not sure I could have pulled out 4 more 400s, but when I started the workout, I wasn't sure I'd be able to run at that pace for even one lap.  And even though I was running considerably faster than I thought I would, I wasn't having to push myself that much more.  I wasn't anywhere near the nauseous point or the pain cave.  We'll see how the first week goes, as this was only one mini workout out of many grueling workouts to come, but maybe I don't have as much to fear as I did before.

Just before the holidays my schedule, like so many others, was erratic. I couldn't join the group runs, and evenings were committed to get-togethers and parties. I squeezed a run in when I could, which limited me to running near my house rather than drive somewhere. I was bored of my usual loop, so I decided to take a slight detour on a quiet road that goes up and over a considerable hill. It's also a road that has many large homes with tall hedges and bordering the properties. As I was running up the hill, I saw that one of these homes had a circular drive, and in the center of the circle was a large statue of a grizzly bear standing in the I'm-about-to-maul-you position. If you know me, you know I don't like life-size statues of anything, be it people or animal. I don't even like mounted elk heads on the wall, so this statue freaked me out to say the least. I picked up the pace and essentially ran for my life for the remaining 2.5 miles. I think I even looked back over my shoulder, you know, in case the damn thing actually came to life and decided to attack me. In the end, I ran the 3.7 mile route in 32 minutes 47 seconds (average 8:52). So much for the easy run I had set out to do. But funny enough, I liked the route enough to do it another time over the holidays, and I ran a minute faster at 31:47 (average 8:35).

The holidays are over now, and our household routine and usual family obligations are back in full swing. Unfortunately, the daylight hours are still too short for my work schedule, and since I am generally bad at running over lunch, I'm left to run when it's dark (and cold) out. My neighborhood is surrounded on three sides by high-traffic roads (the fourth side is a private golf course), so I'm hesitant to run or cross those boundaries in the mornings and evenings. On the other hand, my neighborhood is incredibly quiet by comparison, so it's my go-to for short 2-3 mile runs. Still, I don't like the dark, and the neighborhood's evening quiet spooks me even more. As a result, I run like someone is chasing me, and an effort to slow down is squashed by my fear that maybe someone really is chasing me (I live in such a safe area that my husband finds this rather amusing). On Tuesday I ran 2.91 miles in 23:46, an average of 8:15. Clearly, if anyone were to chase me, I'd hope to God they were slow and/or out of shape! My pace is still clearly all of the map, but that may just depend on how "threatened" I feel.

Yesterday was a classic case of going out too fast.  But let me rewind a bit.

Last Monday Katherine mentioned that she signed up for a 20.12k race, and would I be interested in running it too?  I told her I'd think about it, so for two days I hemmed and hawed.  As I mentioned in my last post, I decided to focus only on 10k races this year, and in doing so, I'd run faster long runs but with slightly shorter distances of between 8-10 miles.

A 20.12k translates to 12.5 miles, just 0.6 miles less than a half!  Despite running the Holiday Half well, I didn't feel mentally or physically ready to race 12.5 miles.  And since the race was in just a matter of days, it wasn't as though I could cram in some last-minute training.  In the end, I decided what the hell?  It's just for fun, and it would be with someone I love running with.  Furthermore, it would be my last race before I move up to the next age group, so I might as well go out with a bang.  So with just three days before the race, I signed up.  

I'm not one who makes resolutions for the year, but when it comes to my running, I do set goals for myself.  Last year, I started this blog as a way to keep myself accountable for my running, to keep on running, whether it's specifically for training or just for keeping fit and healthy, and my hope was that I'd be a stronger, faster runner in the end. 

Goal accomplished.  I ran in my third Hood to Coast and finished two half marathons, two 10ks, and a 12k.  I PR'ed in both the half and the 10k (technically the 12k, too, as I'd never raced that distance before!), but more importantly, I ran with friends and had a blast in all the races.  Aside from a few minor setbacks, I ran consistently throughout the year, and my long runs were at faster paces for longer distances than I'd ever done in my life.  I think it's safe to say that, in terms of my running, I'm in the best physical fitness of my life.

For 2012, I hope to capitalize on my 2011 achievements.  I have some lofty goals for the year, but the biggest one will probably have to be broken down into milestones: I hope to race a 10k under 50 mins. This will be huge for me!  Every year I set one and only one goal - to run faster - but I've never put a number behind it.  If/when I get to that 8-minute mark, I will be screaming (silently, if you know me) for joy!  To get there will be a tough road, but I believe it's within reach.  I'll need to throw longer tempo runs into my schedule, and I'd like to refocus on strenghtening my core.  I've also decided to cut half marathons out of the mix this year and primarily enter 10k events, along with, perhaps, the occasional 15k "fun run."  

Realistically, I won't get there in the next race.  It may take me the whole year to get there, but if I can shave off even 5-10 seconds per mile each race, I'm in good shape.  My next planned race is Bridge to Brews.  Last year I PR'ed at 52:59, an average pace of 8:32.  I thought I was going to burn up at the end, but in retrospect, I wasn't anywhere close to the pain cave.  I ran strong the whole way while pushing myself to a pace that was nearly 30 seconds faster than my expectations!  So I know it's possible, and this year, I'm hoping to have a repeat performance and maybe even shave a minute off overall.  

Thankfully, I've got an amazing partner, who is continually running stronger and pushing me without even realizing it, backed by a fantastic running group, many of whom are some of my closest and dearest friends.  And when I'm not running, I've got a drill-sergeant of a husband who is incredibly supportive of any crazy endeavor that I choose to chase down, even if it means I'm passed out from a hard run for the better part of a Saturday.

Yesterday, I ran a half marathon at the last minute.

It wasn't as though I woke up and just felt like running 13.1 miles.  I mean, I haven't even trained for one since September.  It's just that two days ago, a friend (who ran in my place at the Girlfriends Half just one week after running the marathon!) texted me to say she was sick and would I like running in her place.  Since my friends Amois and Sonja would be running, I couldn't pass up the opportunity.  Besides, I ran this race last year (its inaugural year), and it had been so blustery and miserable, I wanted redemption. My text to her: "I'm in!"

But then reality set in.  I hadn't run more than 9 miles since the beginning of October, and even then I'd struggled to run 11 miles.  On top of that, every attempt at a half marathon this past year has not gone well for me, and I actually trained for those races.  I also started to fret about the weather.  It's been unusually cold the last few weeks, and this kind of weather is not ideal racing conditions.  But on the other hand, there weren't going to be gusts of 20 mph winds, and I've been feeling healthy and strong.  I had two great runs last weekend, despite the cold, so there was a part of my brain that figured I'd be fine.  I figured best not to think about it and just have a good time with my friends.

With a few minutes to spare, Amois and I met up with Sonja at the start.  The three of us had gone back and forth about time and pace.  Amois just wanted to run with us and essentially be our rabbit/pacer, and Sonja just wanted to run the whole thing without stopping to walk.  I didn't know what I'd be capable of, so I was reluctant to commit to anything.  But in the end we all agreed to go out comfortably, like one of our Saturday runs, and just take it from there.  Most importantly (to me), both of them agreed not to share any time or pace with me.  I didn't want that messing with my head.

The course is relatively flat, and it's one that is unique to other Portland halfs.  And this was definitely a race meant to be fun and festive.  There were carolers every few miles, and many racers were dressed for the occasion, adorned in garland, bells, or in full Santa getups.  This, combined with the company of two great friends, made for a fun run.  We immediately fell into a rhythm, and the miles ticked my with ease.

Until we hit mile 10.

I don't know if it was psychological, but suddenly my calves felt tight and I developed a side stitch.  Every step grew increasingly labored, and I was ready to stop.  It felt like Amois and Sonja picked up the pace, and since I didn't want to be left running the last three miles on my own when I had made it this far with them, I stayed on their heels.  When we reached mile 11, Amois excitedly pointed out we only had two miles left to go.  I let on that I was starting to struggle, and Sonja said she was feeling the same.  Amois asked us how badly we wanted to break 2 hours, and both of us seemed to just want to hang on for the next 2 miles.  After some words of encouragement we kept on running, though our conversation basically stopped since neither Sonja nor I had the energy to talk at that point.

I've never been one to run in the pain cave, this point where every cell of your body is in pain and your mind starts to play with you and you just can't imagine running another step.  My friends tell me that when it comes, they push through it and come out on the other side a better runner.  It's the best and worst feeling. I've never really been willing to run in that great of discomfort, but at some point in mile 12, I started to feel a slight delirium.  I was beginning to hurt, and my vision was beginning to blur.  I'm not sure if that's the pain cave, but it's as close as I'm probably ever going to find out.

I ran in a race yesterday.  It was a 12k (7.5 miles for those of you who are metric-challenged), and it was the first race I've run since Hood to Coast.  But unlike all the other races I entered this year, I signed up primarily because it sounded like a fun thing to do.  I generally have a good time when I run in races, but "fun" is never really at the top of the list for why I sign up.  Usually, I sign up with only one thought in my head : "What finish time should I try to aim for?"

My legs are tired this evening, and, odd as this may sound, this excites me.  I'm thrilled because the soreness and tiredness is a result of having had the best running week I've had in a long time.  Not only did I go out for a run 4 times this week, but each time I ran strong and pushed myself just enough to up my game without leaving me to crash and burn at the end.  But I don't take any of the credit, because three of the four times I was running with my group.