What doesn't kill me, and so on

This week's been tough. I've been dragging and feeling sick, and my legs have been aching. I barely held on for four measly miles yesterday. Today I'm going to give my gams a break and do forty minutes on the stair climber rather than run. I want to have a bearable 18 miles on Saturday. I really hope I'm just sick and not reaching my own speed limit. I felt dandy after 15 easy miles in Texas.

It's been a challenge to set goals this time around. I had such a great experience during my first marathon; I worry that all the problems I avoided in Yakima (no cramps, no stomach problems, no wall) will hunt me down in Newport. I think a key reason why that first marathon went so well was that I had no real goal except to finish. So I had no reason to push myself too hard and bonk in the higher miles. Part of me wants to face Newport the same way and just run comfortably to finish. But I also want to see what I can really do when I push myself. Then again, I want to enjoy the race and not suffer through it, and not be forced to walk at the end. Aargh. It reminds me of the second half marathon I ran last year, which I never ended up writing about: the Haulin' Aspen trail half in Bend. I finished in under two hours and came in third in my age group, both things that I am very proud of. I also pushed really hard, particularly in the last couple of miles, and felt awful for the rest of the day – and it was a LONG day. No guts, no glory, etc., but I would strongly prefer to never feel like that again.

I guess I'll wait and see how the next couple of weeks go…

I (heart) ibuprofen

According to my schedule I was supposed to run 13 on Saturday but I decided to do another 15-miler, this time trying for my time goal. Well, I made it: 15 miles in 2:05:17 for a pace of 8:21. Like all long runs it was a mixture of "Damn I feel good! I can do this all day!" and "PLEASE GOD LET ME STOP". What I found interesting was that I managed almost exactly even first and second halves, despite feeling like I was dragging a sled of ground beef behind me on the way back. They felt like 9 or 9:30 minute miles. Weird.

I had just enough time to go home, take a lightning fast shower and excruciating ice bath before heading off to the spring paddling clinic my teammate Melissa organized. There were about 40 newbies trying out dragon boating for the first time, and Mel needed all the experienced paddlers she could get. I ended up leading two groups out – not the best idea considering I hadn't paddled since November and had just run 15 miles. I woke up on Sunday feeling like I'd been severely beaten. I'd planned on going to the gym for my recovery jog and a 10 AM yoga class, but ended up staying in bed holding very still for a while. I also had a sore throat, so I think I was fighting something off that increased the body aches…whatever it was – man. I was destroyed. After laying about for most of the day I finally mustered the energy to change and went down to the track for a quickie. I did about 2 miles and felt better.

Today I'm still sore, but can stand up and bend over without grunting. Yeesh.

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.

Post from January 21 that I never actually got around to posting...

Last week I started structured training for numero dos. So far it's been great. The weather has been unusually clear, so I've been able to run outside on my lunch break and get some sorely-needed vitamin D. My run on Saturday was pretty godawful though. The Gorge wind was blowing something fierce, and on the way out I was running directly into it. Like running in a wind tunnel. When I first turned into it I seriously considered running over to the gym and finishing up there. But it was sunny! It's never sunny. I convinced myself that it was a good re-introduction to the miseries of training. And suffering builds character. And on the way back I'd be getting pushed forward instead of back, so it would all even out in the end. Right? Not exactly. But I did get through it, and it's been added to the pile of "Runs That Are Suffered Through Because You Never Know What The Conditions Will Be On Race Day."
So far, training has been much easier the second time around. I started upping my mileage back in December, and I haven't had any aches and pains yet. I was reading through my entries from the beginning of training last year and remembering how I used to be in noticeable discomfort the first few miles of most runs. Ugh. Much better this year. It's also nice to know, of course, that I CAN do it.

1:51:57!

Had my first race since the marathon on Saturday, the Helvetia Half Marathon in Hillsboro. I went into it with mixed feelings. On the one hand I was not as well-prepared for it as I had been for the marathon. I totally slacked off in training: my longest training run was 10.5 miles and I averaged 15-20 miles per week. Pathetic! But on the other hand, I came to realize how nice it was to do things backward and get that pesky marathon out of the way first. I felt like I had nothing to prove to myself or to anyone else, and approached the race only wanting to enjoy myself. Well, that and to at least equal my halfway time in the marathon, which was exactly 2:00:00. (Seriously, they set up a clock at the exact halfway point and as I was running toward it in the canyon I realized I was going to hit two hours on the nose. Pretty neat.)
It was a gorgeous summer day in Oregon, sunny from the get-go but not too hot. My two friends who were going to run with me both bailed (thanks, guys!), so I drove out alone at 6:15 am. After crawling through the traffic from Rt. 26 to the stadium (The distance from 26 to the parking lot? About 1.5 miles. It took me 45 minutes to lurch through it. My clutch leg was getting tired and I actually worried about it affecting my performance. Anyway…), I slathered on sunscreen, decided to go with the dri-fit tank top and not the tech shirt, double- and triple-checked that I had my car key with me, and got in line for the ladies room. (Natch.)
I knew that there would be water/Gleukos stops about every mile and a half, and I really don't like wearing my hydration belt, so I left it at home. Plus I forgot my watch (can you tell I half-assed this thing?), so all together I felt oddly naked. I lined up at the start, chatted with a nice Portland Fit lady for a few minutes, then set off.
The race had both a half marathon and a 10k, which started at the same time. There were about 3,000 people at the start line – that's a lot of bodies. (Oh, and I think I half-assed it? I saw several guys getting ready to run wearing jean shorts. Doesn't that chafe?) I started out slow partly by choice and partly by circumstance. A lotta dodging and weaving the first few miles.
I took in at least a cup of water or Gleukos at every stop, and had some ClifShot at the turnaround point, even though I didn't really want it. I took it because it was there, swallowed about half, then looked futilely for a trash can until the next water stop. The famous middle hills were tough, and I was panting at the top of two of them, but overall it was great. I love running hills because they break the monotony and make the flat stretches seem so easy. I made the right call going sleeveless: by the end of the race I was H-O-T. After the mid-point it was pretty much direct-sun city for five miles. (BTW, having the photogs at Mile 12? Not cool! Dude, we were all sweating and icky.)
But that's okay, because I finished way below my goal time and 472nd out of 2607 participants. Top 20% baby! I'm like the front of the middle of the pack. :) On the last rolling hills I passed some people who were in bad shape, wheezing and soaked with sweat and what-not. I was feeling great, and I didn't know whether shouting encouragement as I passed would inspire renewed vigor or white-hot rage. So I kept my pie-hole shut.
The finish line was in the stadium, which was fun. I got my pretty green medal and stumbled over to the water table. I was thirsty but knew better than to chug, so I grabbed two cups to sip as I made my way to the car. Once I got off the freeway I drove with the window down and music blaring, checking out the medal at red lights, feeling groovy knowing that I'd gotten my weekend's exercise and it wasn't even 10:30 yet. Rock on!

Next stop: Haulin' Aspen Trail Half (how much do I love that name?) in August and the Portland Marathon in October.

Oh hey, PS - Ice baths are SO MUCH EASIER in the summer time.