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

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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.

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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.

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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.  

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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.

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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.

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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?"

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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.  

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Last week was my first full week of running after having been plagued by illness.  That is, I ran consistent, rather than sporadically, and my total mileage was nearly normal (for me), rather than be something that looked someone's long run. What made me feel even better was the fact that my long run on Saturday morning was of a more substantial 8.5 miles, by far the longest I'd run in 6 weeks, and nearly 3 miles more than the previous week.  I'm planning on just running a base of 8-9 miles over the winter for my long runs, so it felt great to know that I was already there.  

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I only ran two days this last week, but I still kept my usual number of weekly miles.  That's because I ended up running about 80% of my miles on one day: yesterday.  With the Girlfriends Half in three weeks, and Katherine running the Portland Marathon in two weeks, we wanted to go 14 miles.  Our running group was planning to run two iterations of a 7-mile loop, which didn't appeal to either of us.  Looking for another route long enough for 14 miles, we somehow decided that running the Wildwood would be a suitable alternative.

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After a couple of post-H2C lackluster weeks of running, I'm back in business!  Despite my husband being out of town all last week, I managed to get some good miles in.  I also did something over the week that I haven't done in a long time; I left my watch at home.  I've been so obsessed with my pace the last few months, that I haven't had a relaxing, fun run in awhile.  I had been pushing my limits by trying to go at as fast of a pace as possible on every run that it mentally, not just physically, became work to go out for a run.  Make no mistake, I still pushed myself, but only slightly outside my comfort zone.  But without a watch to focus on, I wasn't distracted with calculations and predictions in my head, and I was left to simply enjoy the run and my friend's company.  

Pub Run Tuesday

My sister-in-law was gracious enough to come and watch the kiddo so I could join this bi-weekly event.  Apparently I wasn't the only mama to be solo parenting this week, because 4 out of the 9 ladies who showed up with kiddos strapped in jogging strollers.  I was instantly impressed because our pub run route is quite hilly, and I can't begin to fathom pushing 60+ pounds of stroller and kiddo up those hills.  More likely is that I would have to chase down a run-away stroller on the downhill!  What I love about this group is how determined every mama is.  I finished with many of those stroller-pushing mamas close on my heels, one of whom kept pace with me the entire time!  I was quite impressed, and just a tad envious that I couldn't "smoke" them!

Miles: 2.5

Time: Not the foggiest idea

Saturday morning at Forest Park

Miles: 10

Time: All I know is something less than 1:40 

Sunday morning at Fairmount

Miles: 3.5

Time: 32 minutes

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It was my third time running in the "Mother of all Relays" Hood to Coast, but a first in so many ways.  My first year in Van 1 and not running as runner #9 (the longest overall mileage).  My first year as co-captain.  My first year on a team of all women.  And my first year running in complete heat exhaustion. 

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Despite a rough start, this past week was much better for me, running-wise.  I still haven't kicked this cold, but I feel like I'm on the road to recovery.

Track Tuesday

My stomach was still feeling iffy from whatever I came down with on Sunday, but I was determined to show up for the track workout. Four out of the five of us who showed up are running Hood to Coast, and the three of us who did last week's workout masochistically liked it enough to want to repeat it this week. 4 x (600m at race pace, immediately followed by 200m sprint).  I just hope my stomach wouldn't complain too much.

I actually forgot to pace myself in the first round.  I went at a faster clip and chatted with my friends.  The general rule with speed workouts is that you're supposed to be running fast enough where it's difficult, if not impossible, to talk.  It dawned on me right before the sprint that I might not be conserving enough energy to complete the workout 3 more times.  But as I kicked into the sprint, I was determined to actually sprint, not just run faster.  I turned over my legs like my life depended on it, and I pumped my arms so much I could feel my biceps burning at the end.  When I crossed the finish, I was relieved to have ran one, and yet excited to run another one.  

My goal in every track workout is to keep each repeat consistent; that is, the time I run each repeat should only be within a second or two of each other.  This week was not the case.  I progressively got slower and slower each time.  My lungs were taxed, my legs jello, and my arms burning by the third repeat, and I sincerely doubt I actually sprinted during the sprints.  And each time I added a few more seconds such that I had a 17 second difference between the first and last repeats!  At least I jogged most of each recovery lap!

But I was still proud of myself.  I seriously thought on my drive over to the track that I should run conservatively or else risk collapsing on the track. Having felt sick even earlier that day, I was afraid to give it my all.  My husband tells me I'm underestimating myself, that I am probably in the best shape of my adult life.  Maybe he's right, but I still have a lot to work on!

Miles: 4 (warmup, 4x(600m, 200m) w/400m recovery, cooldown)

Times: 3:42, 3:51, 3:54, 3:59

Tempo Thursday

I planned to run an easy 2-4 miles on Thursday, and I figured my best opportunity would be that evening.  While my husband usually puts the kiddo down for bed, I tend to try to get some work, wash dishes, or surf the internet.  I had changed into my running clothes when I got home from work, so I was good to go.  I had some time to sit on my ass and let my food digest before going out for a run.  

But I lost track of time.  Suddenly, it was 8:15, and I knew the sun was about to set.  I didn't want to run in the dark by myself (I reserve that for one day out of the year), so I scrambled to get my shoes on, gave a quick kiss good-bye to the husband and kiddo, and literally ran out the door.  What was supposed to be an easy, relaxed run turned into a 2-mile tempo.  I ran quickly through the neighborhood in an effort to get done before dusk.  Less than a mile into it I realized that I could ease up the pace and still be okay, but I was feeling fast and, more importantly, strong enough to do it.  About 10 minutes into the run I decided to forgo the 3 miles in favor of charging up one of the bigger hills in the 'hood.  I usually slow down the second (steeper) half, but this time I pressed on.  My lungs heaved like a chain-smoker up a flight of stairs, but I stayed on pace.  And my watch confirmed it: I had shaved off about 20-25 seconds from what it normally takes me to go up that half a mile of hill.  Woohoo!  

I was sweating buckets at the end, but I finished my best time on that route to date!  I have some work to do to break 8-minute miles, but I can see it in my sights.

Miles: 2

Time: 16:28

Double-run Saturday

I started the morning with the usual run at Forest Park.  Once again, the other mamas wanted to go 8 miles, but since I was planning on running later in the day with a friend, I only wanted to go 6.  Sonja was away, so I was left with the speedsters.  So much for running a relaxed 6 miles.  I chatted with Laura who was nice enough to hang a few steps back with me.  I think I could have kept pace with the leaders, but I wasn't up for the mental effort required.  I was able to hold my half of the conversation, but there were definitely unnatural breaks in my speech.  If your ability to hold a conversation is an indication of running a relaxed long run, then I haven't had a long run in months.

I reached my 3-mile turnaround at 26:03.  Whoa.  A quick mental calculation and I realized I had just run up the trail with a sub-9 pace.  8:41 to be exact.  Whoa.  I had been hovering around 9 the last few weeks, and even then it was labored.  I'd knocked almost 20 seconds off and I still had enough wind in me to talk!  I was certainly pooped, but I was re-energized to book it down the hill.  But since I'm still on the tail end of this ridiculous cold and since I was planning to run another 6 later in the day, I decided it would be better to run conservatively.  The last thing I wanted to do was bonk on a double-day.  

You know that kind of tired you get when you're sick and zapped of any energy you had such that you can't even get up to grab the kleenex box?  Well, that's how I started to feel with about 2 miles left.  I started to worry I was pushing myself too much and wouldn't have enough for the trail run in the afternoon.  But while my mind said ease up, my legs kept the same turnover, and I ended back at the trailhead in about 25 minutes.  

The last time I ran a fast 6-miler at Forest Park, I ended up taking a nap later in the afternoon.  This time I went to breakfast with my family, and then my husband needed to run a bunch of errands.  Since the kiddo was feeling under the weather, she and I stayed home, leaving me to play butler, housekeeper, and all around general personal servant.  By the time my husband got home, 6 hours after my last run, I needed to get ready to head back out the door to meet my friend.  

Never having ran on the Wildwood trail in Forest Park, Katherine was willing to meet me there for a run.  Wildwood is a 30-mile trail of some tough terrain.  I've panted from just hiking up some of Wildwood's hills, so I knew it would be a challenge, especially since it was my second run for the day.  But I've been wanting to run Wildwood for the challenge and for the change of scenery.

The thing with trail running is that it's more than just running.  It's so easy to trip, slip, or twist your ankle, that you really have to pay attention to your footing, and your core works to keep you stable every step of the way.  Katherine is just a few months post-partum, but I was working to keep up.  Our plan was to run 30 minutes out and then turn around and run back.  In the last 5 minutes before we turned around, as we ran down a considerable hill, Katherine informed me it was this very hill she struggled up the week before.  Great, I thought.  Sure enough, just a few minutes later, as we trudged up that hill, I was starting to kick myself. Why did I suggest Wildwood?, I thought.  Why didn't I just go easy this morning?

I huffed and puffed and struggled to pick up my feet.  We passed to hikers, who kindly said, "Wow, you guys are hardcore."  Normally that would light a fire under my ass, but I wasn't even sure I could keep going.  And just as I lost focus on the running and started letting doubt set in, it happened.  I tripped over a tree root and flew forward.  Thankfully, I caught myself (the benefit of running uphill, the ground is much closer), so I just dusted off.  But it took enough wind out of me that we walked a couple of minutes before continuing our hill attack.  By the time we reached the top, the exhilaration set back in, and by the time we finished I wanted to do it all over again.  

But this time, I'm taking down that hill.

Morning Miles: 6

Time: 51:33

Afternoon Miles: 6+ (and not quite 6.5, I'll pay more attention to the markers next time)

Time: 1:03:00

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Tuesday track
The group did sprints in the precious track workout, so we decided to do something heard more for distance. 600m at race pace with a final 200m sprint. Recover for 400m.

The trick with longer distances for me is not pacing. It's finding a pace that isn't a sprint. Race pace for 600m doesn't feel fast; it almost feels easy. The final sprint takes some effort, but I still feel good at the end. But that's just the first round.

We lightly jogged a recovery lap, then toed the line for the second time. By the end of the first lap I was starting to huff and puff, and when the sprint came, I clenched my teeth (relaxed jaw, what's that?) like I was holding on for dear life. I crossed the finish line feeling like I was going to vomit. Each subsequent recovery involved more walking, and each round left me feeling like I had nothing left in the tank. By the fourth and final repeat, I was tired but felt great, knowing I had finished a grueling workout. And I didn't have to crawl to the end.

Miles: 3, 0.5 warmup, 2 miles of
Interval, 0.75 cooldown
Times:

Saturday's long run
I had every intention of running on Thursday, but I ended up going home early feeling sick. Friday was no better, and I got so little sleep that night, I wasn't sure I'd make it Saturday. But I wanted to get an 8-miler in before hood to Coast, and Saturday would be the best day to do it.

Sonja wanted to switch it up from our usual Forest Park runs. Since one of her legs is flat, we met up at the Waterfront. She and Amois planned to do 11, but I didn't feel up for that much running. Thankfully, we kept a slow enough pace (we had a new mama join us, and we wanted to stay together), that I felt ok for most of the run. But somewhere between 6 and 7 miles I started feeling hotter and more tired than normal, especially given our pace.

I held on to the end, but, admittedly, I was disappointed with our time and how I felt. I knew it was because I was under the weather, but that didn't console me in the slightest. It turns out I started feeling worse as the weekend progressed. I had hoped to run Sunday morning, but I had another night of crappy sleep, and I couldn't get myself out of bed...all day. It might have been the run, but I know that if I hadn't gone, I'd have been just as frustrated, if not more.

Miles: 8.5
Time: 1 hr 26 min

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