A thirty-something running mama in Portland, OR, who finds sanity in lacing up her Nikes, enjoys the challenge that running and racing brings, but doesn't run very fast. I try to improve my speed with each race, and I share my efforts here.
Living and running in the moment
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: 6My 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.
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.
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
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
Since I have a few hilly races coming up, I wanted to do a tempo run in Forest Park. And with quarter-mile markers, I could work on my pacing. I also knew it would be muddy, but I had hoped that the trees would shield me from the rain a bit.
The first mile has the longest incline and would be the most difficult for me to keep my target pace of 9:30 min/mile. But I was confident that i could average it out with the last and still be ok. So my focus would be to keep the middle 4 miles as close to my target as possible.
I pushed it just a bit on the first mile and ran it in 10:08 (it usually takes me about 10:30), but I still was able to run the second mile without much added effort with a time of 9:29. I was confident I'd stick to my goal. But I had surprised myself: I ran my third mile in 8:51. I was pretty tired, but I didn't feel the need to slow down. Plus, I was so cold and wet and my mud-caked pants (I still don't know why I didn't wear my tights) were so heavy I just wanted to be done. I held this pace until the end with an overall time of 54:25. For the first time since being plagued with illness, I was able to continuously run at a considerably faster pace. This was a huge moment for me, and I'm now starting to think it may actually be possible for me to run 8:45 min/mile by the end of the racing season. As long as I stay healthy.
Miles: 6
Time: 54:25
Before we take off, we usually discuss how many miles each runner plans to do. It gives is sense to see who will likely run with whom and if anyone will wind up running on their own at any point. I also use it personally to hold myself accountable. Rarely do I go less than what I say, and occasionally I run more. I told the group I was planning on 9. Somehow, standing with my friends and knowing how great I feel after our Saturday runs, I was confident 9 would be doable. We took off and quickly fell into a good, comfortable pace. Easy enough to still talk, but with some effort.
As much as I love running in Forest Park i can still psych myself out a bit on runs longer than 7 miles. That's because after 3.5 miles the trail goes more noticeably uphill again. Because I can see the uphill, I feel it more. So I mentally prepared myself for the mile before the turnaround, and I surprisingly felt good. Good enough to even pick up the pace a bit. I thought, yeah, I can totally finish this out.
With about 3 miles left to go, my legs began to feel heavy. Around this time my friend was also complaining of tight hamstrings. I told her we could push through it, we just had to make it to the 1-mile marker, where we could use the downhill to our advantage, but I wasn't quite sure myself. Shortly after the 2-mile marker I was trying to stave off a pain in the collarbone. I didn't want to run anymore, and I wasn't even sure I could make it to the end.
Finally, with just one mile left to go, I felt relieved. I could back off on the effort a bit and let the downhill take me the rest of the way without sacrificing time. Only I didn't. Back off, that is. I did something I normally don't do and that I certainly don't do on my own, but I ignored the pain in my lungs, the leaden weight of my legs, and the coldness that hadn't left my body since stepping out I'd the car (which worried me slightly), and I picked up the pace. I didn't say anything to my friend, who I knew was already outside of her comfort zone, and just gradually sped up. She didn't say anything, just matched me stride for stride. In the last 100 yards or so I asked if she had enough to sprint to the end. I barely gave her enough time to respond before we opened up our stride.
At the end we could barely talk, but we didn't collapse. We ran 9 miles and, despite the pain and draining enthusiasm, finished really strong. More than ever I see the power in being a part of such a great group. I had never felt more proud myself or more thrilled to have a group pushing and encouraging me, whether it's directly or by finding the potential within. I would never have done this on my own. I would probably have turned early or walked the rest of the way. I may not have even got up to run at all.
Miles: 9
Furman target time: 1:31:57 (10:13 pace)
Actual time: 1:30:07 (10:01 pace)
A thirty-something running mama in Portland, OR, who finds sanity in lacing up her Nikes, enjoys the challenge that running and racing brings, but doesn't run very fast. I try to improve my speed with each race, and I share my efforts here.
A thirty-something running mama in Portland, OR, who finds sanity in lacing up her Nikes, enjoys the challenge that running and racing brings, but doesn't run very fast. I try to improve my speed with each race, and I share my efforts here.
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