Three days and I'll be done!!

Whoops, no I'm not dead or anything. Just feeling kind of impatient for this to be over. I started off this training cycle really well, but ever since I went on vacation/got sick in March, it's been a real struggle. So I'm excited to get it done and try something new. I feel pretty good about Newport. Not really nervous yet – I think it will hit Friday night. Even though my mileage has not been great I completed all my really long runs, so I know I'll get through it. I was just hoping to do more than "get through it." Actually I'm really looking forward to this weekend because we have a bunch of friends coming down to camp at Beverly Beach and cheer us on. Then I'll be joining them on Saturday night. We camp every year about this time, and it's always a blast – and this time I'll have an excuse to eat so much.

My longest run, 22.5 miles along the course in Newport, was HARD. HARD HARD HARD. There was a strong wind coming off the ocean (I know, duh) and coming back in was like running in a wind tunnel. (However, the day after our long run it was completely calm, even on the beach. We've all got our fingers crossed that the 30th will be the same.) I think because I was babying my calves I ended up overusing my quads – whatever the reason, the latter sputtered at about mile 16. The last two miles were absolute torture. My end point was the one-mile marker on the bay road, and I have never, ever wanted something to arrive so badly. Not even the finish line of my first marathon. I kept thinking it was around each corner and getting more and more frantic to finish before my legs fell off. And the next day I was walking like Lurch – again, it was worse than the day after Yakima. Weird. Looking back I'm still not sure what the deal was: I hydrated; I took some salt at the turnaround; I took gels and bloks pretty regularly. It wasn't cramps, they were just exhausted. I can only hope that race day shapes up better.

The calf thing is still hanging around. Since I was already screwed in regards to the plan I drafted up months ago I figured I might as well tweak my schedule to try and get rid of the calf pain as much as possible. It's not distance that makes them hurt, it's running multiple days in a row. So I've been combining runs, or skipping one and putting in the time on the stairmaster instead. It's been working for me so far. I was supposed to run 4 yesterday and 4 today – instead I ran 8 yesterday and will spend 45 minutes sweating my a** off at the gym. (Seriously, I sweat so much on the stairmaster, I'm plastered with it. Whereas I barely sweat at all when I run, even on the treadmill.) Yesterday's run was nice – it was partly sunny, not too warm, nice breeze. A little soreness in the first mile but then I shook it off and was fine. I kept trying to think positive thoughts, visualize good results, etc. I got to mile 6 though, and thought "gee, on race day I'll have 20.2 more to go…"

GODDAMIT BRAIN, WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS!
Sigh.

And for no good reason, a picture of us girls getting ready for 80s prom at the Kennedy School earlier this month:

A springtime rite of passage

Getting hailed on, that is. Glad I didn't miss out this year. The forecast for Saturday was 30% chance of showers, same as the rest of the drizzly week. I was mentally prepared to run through a few spells of light rain, so when I got to mile 14 dry & chafe-free I was pretty darn happy. Then the sky opened up in a complete downpour. Okay, that was bad enough. Then a quarter mile later hail started muscling in and taking over. My forearms and legs were bare, and that shit stung. Out loud, to no one, I asked "Seriously? Is this really necessary?" The hail lasted maybe thirty seconds all together; the rain kept going for about two miles. It wasn't a disaster, but I would've dressed differently if I'd known I would get soaked to the skin with 10k to go. I had the shakes by the time I got home and took a hot shower before the ice bath. (I've gotten over trying to talk myself out of the damn things.)

Other than that it was a pretty good run, except I got out of the car at the trail and immediately had to pee… four miles from the nearest bathroom. Good practice for the race, I guess. Last year I had to pee at the race start and didn't have a chance to go until mile 16. My overall pace was a bit slower than I would've liked, but I felt immensely strong in the second half. No long-run aches until about mile 19. I couldn’t believe it when I realized how I felt with a mile to go – light-years away from how I felt during 20-milers last year. Yay!

Getting better all the time

I ran 6 miles outside after work on Tuesday, risking the erratic spring weather. It was one of those sunny-raining-hail-sunny days. Luckily the hour I was out on the Springwater was dry. The sun chose to make an appearance as I was crossing the Hawthorne Bridge and staring right at it, which I didn't appreciate. But it's silly (and risky) to complain about the sun coming out, so I'll stop. Portland needs all the vitamin D it can get right about now.

I didn't have to take any walking breaks, but in the middle I slowed down noticeably before bouncing back in last two miles. My right foot started hurting, though, boo. I'm hoping it was random foot pain and not something that will start nagging. Yesterday was a rest day, which was slightly weird – felt like I was playing hooky. But I'll run every other day this week, so I milked it and did nothing but take a walk at lunchtime. I have a feeling that I'll be exhausted by Sunday.

*
I was impulsive this morning and signed up for the Timberline Marathon in September (view from the start line at right). I really like trail running, and hopefully this will motivate me to do more of it this summer. I've been thinking about the race and how I'll fit training into my summer schedule, plus doing some rumination on running in general. I like running, obviously, or I wouldn't spend so much time doing & talking & thinking about it. What I don’t like about marathon training is feeling worn down. I think that if I varied my activities more and ran less I would feel better. (Not a new idea I realize, but a new approach for me.) I'm going to stick with my planned schedule for Newport, but try a new approach for Timberline. Rather than strictly follow a daily schedule like I've done so far, I'm going to play this one a little looser. I think I'll have a long-run plan for weekends but let the rest of the week shape up however I want it to. I want to do more weight training and cross-training (and if I bike commute like last year, that's a solid built-in workout every day). I think I'll find it more fulfilling to have a fun, relaxing, diverse summer than to have a few minutes' faster time in a race. Guess we'll see!

"No, Donny, these men are nihilists, there's nothing to be afraid of."

I woke up Saturday to pouring rain. Super. Another "Run Suffered Through Because You Never Know What Conditions Will Be On Race Day." Actually I don't usually mind soggy runs but this was some fierce rain. Not the happy little raindrops Portland is used to.

I managed to get halfway to the Springwater before realizing I wasn't wearing my watch. Mentally I had already decided to take it easy this weekend, so I dismissed going back for it. The first half of the run I thought about how much more enjoyable my long runs are when I'm not trying to make a time goal (during the second half, my brain was consumed with chafage). Yes they end up being longer but the run itself is much more pleasant, and I'm not beating myself up over a few seconds here and there. By 10 AM on Saturday I was positive that I was going to give up my time goals and just train to finish again. With a few days' perspective, I'm now on the fence. I was sodden and tired (and chafing) during that run – I don't want to hold myself to decisions I made while cranky. And I don't want to sell myself short.

The Race for the Roses is Sunday. My goal is to beat my PR, 1:51:something. Assuming the weather is decent enough to run a good race, it should help me figure things out. I ran the 1:51 on like, NO training. Maybe 15 easy miles a week. My training runs this year have been below that PR pace (by a hair), but leave me fatigued. I might not be a high-mileage person…maybe I run better when slacking (that'd be SWEET!).

Training marches inexorably forward

Last week I was on vacation in the hill country of Texas. Somewhat pretty, although very brown to my verdant-Pacific-Northwest-accustomed eyes. They're in a bad drought so it's even browner than usual. I ran my 15-mile long run in the cattle country behind my aunt & uncle's new house. The route was an out & back, and very nice. Several rolling hills to break it up, and some nice vistas. There were several "loose livestock" areas that made me a bit nervous – not like I'm expecting the cows to rush me, but they are quite large animals and sometimes they get this glint in their eyes…But it was fine. They actually ran away, which I found amusing. (The pic is not Texas, obviously. It's Newport, where #2 will be.)

Training continues to be easier this time around, because I know what to expect. I know that at the turnaround point I will wonder how I'll ever get back to the start. About three miles before finishing my legs will start to feel breakable, but they won't actually shatter. I'll reach a certain level of discomfort but it will be bearable. These are really great things to carry with you on long runs. It's been tough to reach my goal speed but I've been pretty pleased so far.

I'm following a NYRR schedule this time around, rather than Hal. I dunno, I have mixed feelings about it. The big changes are increased peak mileage (three weeks at 40 rather than one at 37) and running on Sundays. I like the running on Sundays, which is the part I thought I would hate. I tend to be stiff on Sundays but not sore, and I'm finding that a nice easy three or four mile jog loosens everything up. I'm only up around 31 miles per week at this point, so I can't say how I'll feel about three forty-mile weeks in a row (it will probably involve multiple invectives). But what I haven't liked about this program is that there is a step down in between EVERY long run mileage increase. I got up to 10, then stepped down to 8, then up to 13, then down to 10, then 15 to 12 to 18. I'm finding that I prefer to gradually ramp it up – I would feel better doing 10, then 11, then 13, then 14, then 15, maybe at this point a step down, then 18. I just feel like the long mileages are more of a struggle when I'm adding a block of miles on at a time, rather than gradually cranking it up.

My ambitious goal is still to qualify for Boston. With a pace of 8:25 min/mile I could just squeak in. Some days I think I can do it and other days not, but I'm sticking to it. I've run up to 12 miles at that pace and felt pretty good. If I can keep it up at 18-20 miles I'll feel better, obviously. I know I'll run faster on race day than during my training runs, so if I can keep up an 8:25 pace in training I'll feel relatively confident.

My next race is April 5th, the Race for the Roses half marathon in Portland. My coworker Marathon Steve recommended it, and it falls on a 13-mile-long-run weekend anyway, so I didn't even have to adjust my schedule. I haven't looked too much at the course but my goal will be to beat my Helvetia Half time of 1:51.

T-minus two days...

48 hours from now I will be DONE! with this whole marathon thing. (yeeahhhuummm, sort of...I might have already committed to another one.) My boss & coworkers surprised me with a card and a little gifty-basket type thing full of water, Luna bars, and ibuprofen. Ah, they know me well. It was a very sweet thing to do, and I promised I would bring in my medal on Monday so they could stop by my office and genuflect. ;)

I know I complained lustily about how running had taken over my life just a few short weeks ago, but man have I missed it. (Remember, as a woman it's my prerogative to change my mind frequently and without understandable motivation.) I haven't had a long run since March 22, and that was only 15 miles! Practically nothing! I hesitate to say it but…I grew to really like the long runs. (BUT NOT THE ICE BATHS! I will never be down with those.) Getting stronger every week and conquering distances that I thought were a long way to drive is really…(okay, I have to say it, even though I hate this word) empowering. (It's been totally co-opted for PC bullshit to the point of meaninglessness – providing coffee in the break room does NOT constitute "coworker empowerment". Alright, I'm done.) For reals, though, it is awesome to know that I have this kind of dedication and follow-through in me. I decided I wanted to run a marathon. I researched, planned, and trained for it on my own. There was no one shaking me on Saturday mornings, telling me to get my butt in gear and get out the door early. I wasn't going to disappoint anyone except myself if I skipped a cold, rainy midweek run. It is very reassuring to know that I have stick-to-it-tive-ness.

And now that I'm off my high horse: tapering still sucks. To paraphrase Michelle: "I feel fat. My right ankle hurts. Are you coughing? Stay away from me! I need to get more water. Now my left shin hurts. I need to go to the bathroom AGAIN. These pants feel tight. My nose is running, is this allergies or am I getting sick? Better go wash my hands again. My side hurts, what if I pulled a muscle? I have to go to the bathroom. Did I break my shoes in enough? I have to remember to clip my toenails before I leave. Better grab some more water. What if I oversleep and miss the race? My ankle still hurts. What if I tear a contact lens marathon morning? I have to pee."
Ah, the joys of running.

Onto that long downward spiral called tapering

I ended up doing an unbelievable 22.34 miles on Saturday. Holy Shit, is all I can say. And then on Sunday I did the Shamrock 5k, meaning I was half a mile away from a marathon over the two days. I have to say, it really REALLY increased my confidence going into the marathon. Not only did I get within 4 miles of the marathon distance on Saturday, but it was NOT an easy run. From the get-go I felt zapped of energy. By the time I turned around somewhere in the wilds of Gresham (more on that below) I felt like a zombie. But around mile 17 I got comfortable with my zombie-ness, and finished easily. I felt much better than I had after my brush with 20 two weeks before. I'm now paying for it, though. I've started to taper so my runs have topped off at 5 mile this week but they have not been easy. I can feel that my legs are empty. They are juice-less lead weights. I'm sure I'll get my energy back after a few more days of eating bread and taking it slow. My long run Saturday is 15 miles and it'll be on an unpaved trail, which sounds like heaven.
So how did I end up doing 22.34 miles? I have the city of Gresham and a faulty bridge to thank for that. First, the bridge. At mile 13.5 on the Springwater one of the footbridges is down. They detour the path onto a nearby road for maybe half a mile, until the road loops around and crosses the trail again past the bridge. I never really bothered to figure out how much distance the detour added because I only ran it once or twice. Turns out, it adds a lot. Plus, once you leave Portland and enter Gresham, the mile markers stop appearing every half mile and start appearing when the city of Gresham feels like paying for one. Turns out, that isn't very often. Basically they put up a marker when the path crosses a major street. Thus the 15.12 mile marker, and the 16.42. Super. I really did not want to go short of my goal again, so I soldiered on even when I was pretty sure I'd hit 10.5 miles. I finally turned around at 242nd Street. On Sunday when I mapped it, I found that I had run 11.17 miles out. Wow.

I still cannot figure this running thing out.

Apparently, this is my recipe for an amazing long run: on Thursday feel ill, complete only 3 of 5 miles, and barely eat anything. Friday, stay out late eating gooey cheese, crackers, and chocolate, and oh yeah, drinking too much wine. Get up at 6 am (grghhmrmr) on Saturday to make it to pool practice by 7:15; afterwards devour three ginormous slices of French toast slathered in butter and syrup. Then change, go running, and finish thirteen miles in 1:58:08, a pace of 9:05. (!) And, except for the French toast jostling around and making its presence known, feel great doing it. WTF?

I have no idea why I felt so good - the only thing I can think of is that it seems like my body finally "got" it. Particularly after I turned at the half-way point, all the mechanics came together. I felt fluid, comfortable. I was leading with my hips and letting them set the pace (apparently the pace they wanted was 'fast'), which led to my feet falling more softly. I walked yesterday and took a yoga class. I feel so good. I hope that when I run tomorrow I'll find that it wasn't just a one-off deal. I hope that I've turned a corner in my running and I can find more peace than struggle moving forward.

Alas, ShotBloks

Hmmm…yeah. Well, first things first, I did twelve miles on Saturday and it was great. For the first time EVER, I ran the SC and was not precipitated on, not even a little. That right there would have made it noteworthy. I was also well-rested because I moved a short run from Thursday to Sunday (Thursday was my B-day), so I had two days' rest going into it. That gave me the confidence to really work on my pace, and I finished the 12 miles in 1:47:06, for a pace of 8:55! Holy crap! It went by in a flash. I don't think I need to tell you how much this boosts my confidence.

The questionable part was that I tried Shot Bloks for the first time. I sort of wondered how you were supposed to ingest them on the run, and then I read a suggestion that you sort of tuck a square into your cheek and let it dissolve. That's nice in theory, but in practice having my cheek puffed out messed with my breathing, and made me feel like a chipmunk. They took forever to dissolve (I ended up chewing them a little because I needed to take another square while the old one was still hanging around). Plus, my tummy (which normally doesn't bother me at all) seemed a little uneasy about the Bloks. It just gurgled and felt vaguely out of sorts. On the other hand – I kept up a 8:55 pace on a relatively long run, and that may be because I pretty much constantly had a Blok in my mouth. On my 19-miler this weekend I think I'll try them again – that is a true long run, and I'll be on one day's rest.

I’m not really nervous about nineteen – now that whatever was bugging me in January is gone I feel great about running. I am a bit anxious about the route, however. At the last minute I was invited to the beach this weekend (and I will never turn down a free beach weekend), so I'm trying to find a route nearby that seems safe. I emailed the local runner's club, hopefully they'll have some suggestions. And for the ice bath – into the ocean!! Can't wait.

Seventeen miles on Saturday – wow.

Even as I was running, I couldn't believe I was doing it. To think my long run just a few months ago was five!

I was indeed in the rain for three hours straight, although it did mix with snow for a while in the middle, which was nice. I think I made the right choice in what I wore, even though I was WAY more bundled up than any of the other runners I saw (all four of them). It's one thing to get soaked to the skin on my short runs during the week, when I can come home and take a hot shower right away. I was concerned about getting soaked in the first half-hour, then having two and half more hours in which to get all chafe-y and uncomfortable.

I'm now convinced that I had a bad, clingy cold the last few weeks. I feel like a new runner now. Not only did I have plenty of energy on Saturday night, on Sunday I was fine. I even contemplated going for a short run, but settled on some yoga and a long walk instead. It is such a huge relief to know that I wasn't feeling crummy from the running but from some lousy germs that I probably got from my dad (thanks, Pop).
***
Now that I'm into the highest mileages I'll be doing, I've been thinking a lot about what to eat after a long run. I know it's important to get a lot of protein, carbs, etc., but I wanted to avoid nutrition bars and recovery powder thingies because they are both expensive and of dubious, perhaps chemical origin. So I googled around for awhile and stumbled across a great recipe on a website which (of course) I cannot locate now. I would give credit where it is due if I wasn't such a spaz.

Anywho, the recipe is below. I really like it. It's fast & easy to make, it's muy tasty, and I can drink it while I'm doing other things like stretching or getting in the ice bath (AAAAHHHHH!).
1 cup milk (soy or dairy)
1/3 cu. of either powdered skim milk or soy protein powder
2 tbs. of instant pudding mix, for flavor and to thicken the shake (I use butterscotch…mmmmm)
4 ice cubes
Combine everything in a blender and pulse until smooth
The original recipe called for dairy milk and the milk powder, neither of which I have at home, ergo I used soy milk & powder. The result was super tasty. The pudding mix, while adding sugar, also makes the shake uber-palatable. I was worried it would be one of those "choke it down, its good for you" things, but now I look forward to it. It fills me up, gives me a lot of protein and carbs, and I haven't been as sore on Sundays since I've been making them (although that may be due to other things too – like shaking off that persistent cold). The added bonus is that it costs like 40 cents a shake, as opposed to $3 and higher for commercial brands.

PS - How much do ice baths *#$%&`%*#$ suck????

Worried I was going to fall on my butt a few times

Last night, again, the thought of running at the gym (this time for over an hour) gave me the shakes. Plus (and this may be TMI for some folks) I was feeling…gassy. There I said it, now the whole world (in theory) knows that I had gas last night. (Sorry mom.) Anyway, I didn't want to be like Amy, so I went home and headed out in the rain. I hadn’t thought of where to run, and sort of assumed I'd just go up to the reservoir. But when I got to where I would turn to head that way I decided to keep going up the mountain. Once I got to the park I remembered why I don’t do that this time of year. Once you are off the streets and inside the park, the frequency of streetlamps goes way down, making it hard to see speed bumps, piles of slick mouldering leaves, and crazy people laying in the street talking about Nirvana (don't know if they meant the band or the state of ultimate enlightenment). And although there are still a surprisingly high number of runners, dog walkers, and bikers out and about in the winter darkness, I can't help but feel nervous in the unlit areas. So I didn't go all the way to the top, just looped around the back and to the reservoir, where I finished up with laps. It was incredibly windy on the more exposed south side – I felt like I was running up against a linebacker. I didn't really track my mileage, just did seventy minutes, so it was probably a little over 7 miles. I felt really good.

I now consider myself hardcore

Seriously. Saturday I ran 13 miles, ten of which were completed in the pouring rain. On Friday night the forecast was for scattered showers Saturday morning, and when I got up the sky was pretty clear. Now I shouldn’t blame the weather people for deceiving me – I've lived here long enough to know that the weather can pull a 180 in minutes. Really I have only myself to blame. I thought it would be nice to run outside, and if I got sprinkled on, well, that's good experience right?
As I drove down to the Springwater corridor in southeast Portland, it wasn't raining. As I warmed up it wasn't raining, and when I started to run it still wasn't raining. It actually looked as if it might clear up. But then I hit 3 miles, struggling as always, and it started to rain on me. Little piddles at first, then harder and harder until it was seriously pouring. It did that for the next ten miles. What surprised me was that it honestly wasn't that horrible (of course I may be blocking some things out). I think the worst part was that I'd unwisely worn cotton socks, and I was preoccupied that like, at the turnaround point I'd start to get blisters or chafing and have to decide whether to run through it or stop and walk the 6.5 miles back to the car. But it never happened, even though by the end my feet were so wet that every time they hit the ground little jets of water squirted out the front and sides. Other than that I was relatively comfortable. I was wearing breathable capris and top layers that didn't chafe, and a baseball cap that kept the rain out of my eyes (although it got so saturated that water started pooling at the edges and dripping down). I never felt any pain anywhere, although I was really tired by the end. On Sunday (thanks to another horrible ice bath) I was fine, a little stiff. One odd thing was that as soon as I stopped running (oh blessed relief), my knees hurt. Like they were actually tender. After the ice bath they felt pretty much fine, but it was strange that I felt totally fine while running and then had problems walking.
As I mentioned above, the first 3.5 miles pretty much stank. It seems to be my pattern that once I get past the warm-up miles I can settle in and cruise along pretty comfortably. It's hard though, to start off feeling really terrible, and questioning whether you can finish 13 miles when you can't even do four, blah blah blah. It's a mental struggle to keep going. But I do, and then before I know it I'm at the turnaround point. And then I'm done - 13 miles!! A half-marathon!! And I did it in about 2 hours and four minutes. Oh, and no i-Pod! Go me!

2008: Year of the Marathon!

Happy New Year!! I had grand plans that while I was on vacation I would write long and fascinating blog posts, and then I never turned on the computer. I did keep running though, logging my first double-digit run of ten miles the Saturday before Christmas. I ran on the rural-ish asphalt roads around my parents' house in upstate New York. It was gorgeous scenery, and the run was as close to a piece of cake as ten miles can be. I got totally into the zone in the last few miles, and when I got to my stopping point I was actually disappointed. In addition to my first ten miles, I also had my first ice bath that day. YOWZA! It was way, WAAAAY worse than the run. But I felt myself getting stiff after I stretched out, so I figured it would be a good idea. And it was – on Sunday I felt completely and totally fine. No soreness at all. So I am now an ardent supporter of the ice bath, even if it does approach the height of masochism to exhaust yourself running and then climb into a bathtub filled with frigid water and ice cubes. I almost laughed at the absurdity. This weekend I'm up to 13 miles…eep. I have to say I'm intimidated. That's basically a half-marathon. I've already started psyching myself up and drinking lots of water and tea. Thirteen miles!!

So, when I started this site I got the little counter deal on the right side because it seemed like a good idea to have a reminder of when this whole deal was going down. When I first put it up the days remaining was like...170 or something in that range. Some safe, large number. Now I look and its below 100, which sort of wigs me out. But I'm still confident & feeling good about my running. Since I started training, let's say 70 days ago, I have doubled the length of my long runs from five to ten miles. Now, I have about 83 days (not counting taper) to double it again and get comfortable with running for hours.

To kick off the New Year on a positive note: I know I can do this.

Feeling much improved

I did end up running five miles on Wednesday – go me! I think I've found my mantra as well; while I was running there were a few times when I really, really wanted to stop. At those times I found myself saying "Tough as nails" over and over again. I guess it worked.

On Thursday I almost skipped my run again. (Bad Becca!) I had a lunch date and plans after work, so my first opportunity to run was 7:30 at night. I pretty much talked myself out of running on the bus ride home. But I found that after getting inside I was on autopilot, and I changed into warm running clothes without thinking. By the time I remembered that I'd talked myself out of running, I was ready to go. Might as well go ahead with it, I figured. It was a good run, up Mt. Tabor and back down.

On Saturday I ran nine miles. Nine! Wowza! The human body is amazing. I never thought that it would be so simple, this training thing. Now I don't mean simple as in easy, because it ain't easy. But its so...straightforward. I just keep running and magically the distances I can run get longer and longer. When I was beginning this endeavor, five miles was my long run. At the end of a five miler I would think (exhaustedly) "Someday, at this point, I will be only half done," and it practically broke me. I wondered why in the name of Pete I was doing this to myself. But now I finish nine miles and I think "I can't wait until the day when, at this point, I will be only half done."

Winter weather is finally here...super

miles: 8 (indoors)
total program miles: 99.5 (almost a century! woot!)
pain level: naught, at least from running. I was ambitious at the gym last night, and my arms are tired.

Saturday the forecast was for snow, which we get maybe once a year in Portland. (Aside: Oh man, is it funny how this city responds to snow. They have no salt trucks and like two plows, so when there is any measurable accumulation on the ground the city basically rolls over and plays dead. It's accepted that everything shuts down on snowy days.) Anywho, I made the call to run indoors (again!) and did 8 miles on the treadmill. I never, ever thought I'd say this, but the dratted thing is growing on me. It is so easy on the legs (that one time notwithstanding) and it really keeps you honest in terms of pacing. I screwed up though, because I forgot to bring a gel with me. I figured at eight miles I should start using gels or bars or something to keep my energy up, but as I was walking into the gym I realized I'd left mine on the kitchen table. Ooops. I suppose I could've bought something at the gym but I balked at that, since: a) everything is overpriced; and b) it is aimed primarily at weight-lifters who need umpteen million calories of protein a day, not endurance athletes who need a quick carb boost (did I just call myself an athlete??). By about 7.3 miles I was feeling really tired. My legs were great (in a role reversal from earlier in my training) but my tank was just empty. I actually sped up the pace at the end because I just wanted to be finished! I felt good knowing that I could do that, that my body could kick it up even when tired.

I'm now arguing with myself strenuously over which training program to follow. I've never run a very long distance before, so I question whether it's wise to run three 20-milers before my first marathon. I don't want to exhaust myself. Conversely, I can see how the more experience I get at high mileage the better. What it all comes down to, I guess, is how my body responds to high mileage. It makes me nervous because I am emphatically NOT built like a distance runner. On Saturday there was a girl on a treadmill in front of me, and she was small and lean and efficient, and did I mention small? She was practically floating, no jiggle anywhere, no perceived effort. Me, well, I'm carrying around extra weight in certain female areas, if you know what I mean. When I jump, parts of me keeping moving after I'm back on the ground. I don't mind having a "figure," to use my mother's euphemism, but it means that I'm carrying extra baggage with me at all times, weight that will never melt away or turn into muscle. Imagine running with a 15 pound turkey strapped to your back, or better yet flapping around your chest, and you'll have an idea of the ways in which I am not built like a runner. Title 9 and it's 4- and 5- dumbbell sports bras have been a godsend to me, but just because the girls aren't moving around doesn't mean they aren't along for the ride.

PS - It never snowed a flake on Saturday, thank you meteorologists of the greater metro area.

FYI, Samoyeds are a breed of dog

miles: 4 (outdoors)
total program miles: 83.5
pain level: minimal
It's been busybusybusy the past week, hence the lack of updates. A few exciting things happened. On Saturday I went running with my friend Tina and her two Samoyeds. Tina recently completed a Couch-to-5k program, and she is feeling great about running. I'm slowly chipping away at her to run a marathon. After we ran three miles, she started walking and I ran another 5. Wohoo! 8 miles! That's the most I've ever done. And I felt gooood. I've noticed something about my running recently: I usually feel great at the start, tighten up around 2 or 2.5 miles, then loosen back up and get in a groove by 3.5 or 4. When Tina and I reached three miles I was tempted to just start walking and do a long run on Sunday. But I kept going and after another mile I felt so steady and strong that I didn't want to stop at 8. It happened to me again today, too. I went running on my lunch break (more about that below) and about halfway through 4 miles I got really tight and uncomfortable. I plowed on through and by the time five minutes had gone by I felt dandy.

As I mentioned above, I've been running during my lunch hour. I enjoy it because I actually get to run in DAYLIGHT! On a weekday! Yahoodles! My building has locker rooms, and we're located just a few blocks from Waterfront Park so it’s a pretty run, too. I think I'll keep it up during the week because running in daylight (even if its weak, clouded-over, damp daylight) is so much easier to face than running at night. Once the sun sets I tend toward sedentary. Plus it frees up my evenings. I've noticed on other runners' blogs, particularly those on a tight training schedule, that by the time they are near the end of training they feel like they’ve lost touch with all of their old friends and have no social life because they have to run five days a week (and the rest of the time they're exhausted). If I run at lunch I can still make evening plans, even if said plans are to do laundry and sit on the couch reading an Agatha Christie novel.

Back at Home and Feelin' Fine

I got back from Montana this morning and immediately laced on my shoes and went running. The gorgeous weather is hanging on this year, it's really a treat. Normally by this time Portland hasn't seen the sun for weeks and we all plod around with vaguely damp feet that just never quite dry out. But today? Mostly sunny and highs in the 60s. If this is global warming, sign me up! (Disclaimer: that last line was in jest, please don't write me a pedantic email about it. MOM - I'm talking to you here.)

Anyway, since the weather was so gorgeous I was excited to get out there. I did my runs in Montana - holy frijoles what a gorgeous place, it was hard to run for all the scenery-and I was feeling full of energy. I didn't have a route planned out (I was scheduled for 6 miles), but I sort of guess based on my last fiver, and headed out. It was pretty much an out-and-back, and when I was still shy of the halfway mark I checked my watch. It said I'd already been out 27 minutes! Boo! That would have put me below a 10 min mile pace, since according to my (unresearched) route I was below 3 miles at that point. But I felt like I was going my normal 9:30 speed. By the last mile I was completely determined to make my 10-min mile pace and really pushed myself. I missed it by three minutes..but that turned out to be okay. See, when I mapped my run it turns out I did 6.9 miles! Holy moly! That's like a 9:10 pace (or something close to it, I haven't quite got the hang of the seconds thing). And I felt good, strong, no pain. I was tired but I felt like I could have kept going. I now feel like SUPERWOMAN! I love this!

One run down: so far, so good

distance: 3 miles (outdoors)

total program distance: 3 miles

pain level: naught

On the bus coming home last night I read the form chapter in The Competitive Runner's Guide. He basically said don't try very hard to correct your natural form, but gave some tips to keep in mind. I tried a few last night. My favorite was imagining that I was holding potato chips between my middle fingers and thumbs to keep from straining my hands. I have a tendency to run with them straight out, alá the chase scenes in cop movies, which now that I've thought about it would probably hurt my forearms after 4 hours of holding them that way. So I tried to focus on that and on making sure I wasn't overstriding. I think I did well on both counts.

The main thing I did last night was try to self-monitor my heart-rate and breathing. What I noticed is once I got up the hill to the track and got in a rhythm, I was easily breathing through my nose and really was barely exerting myself. Bad girl! So I upped the pace until I was breathing a comfortable 2-2 (two footfalls on the inhale, two on the exhale). And man was I going fast! For me, that is. I was really surprised by how good it felt. As I said below, I've never timed myself ever, it's just been guesstimating. I didn't wear a watch last night either, but I think I did pretty close to a 5k, with a substantial hill thrown in, and I was at or just under 30 minutes. Sweet! Now all I have to do is be able to run at that pace for 4 hours!! Gee, nothing to it. :) But it does give me a lot of hope and encouragement. Heading down my street at the end of the run I felt great. We'll see how I feel after three days in a row. My previous schedule was every other day.

Total topic change: pumpkin spice lattes. I have a weird thing for PSLs, as I cleverly call them. They are full of empty sugar calories, and if you get one prepared the way I like it (double tall soy) it costs $4.20, which is just flipping wrong. But on a cold, brisk fall day, a well-prepared PSL is like…well, its like a little slice of heaven you can warm your hands around. But therein lies the rub – they must be well-prepared. If not, a PSL is the coffee equivalent of a two-day old 7-11 maple bar with some nutmeg on top. I've found that the Starbucks in this town vary wildly in the quality of PSLs they produce. The Starbucks on Third makes amazing PSLs, and it is a constant struggle to avoid the temptation when I walk by on the way to work. But this weekend I went to the Starbucks on west Burnside and…um…20th-ish, and the PSL was so bad that I DIDN'T EVEN DRINK THE WHOLE THING! Sacrilege! I felt terrible but I just couldn’t drink the damn thing it was so cloying. Anyway, it's turned me off of PSLs for awhile, which is probably a good thing.