Magical runs happen every so often. They are the runs that make all the un-magical ones worth it. Saturday brought in our first inclement weather of the year. It almost even felt like winter, but may have been mistaken for a summer squall. Never the less, the ground was dampened by the overnight, early morning rain, and the wind howled in swirling circles, blowing palm fronds and leaves into my path. The air was still moist and had a bit of a bite, but the sun began to peak through as the cloud broke. On the surface it didn't look like a day for a magical run, but one never knows how these things develop.
On Friday John and I woke up early, deathly early for me (5:00 am) so that we could attend the Strength for Running class. I had no idea how much pain could be inflicted upon the body without the use of external weights. All of our moves were done using body weight and gravity and by the end of the hour I thought I might have to crawl out because my gluts were left quivering on my pink mat. It was awesome. I have no doubt that my strength was built because by evening time I could pinpoint exactly which muscles were worked. I decided, since I was half asleep from a lack of morning sleep, and sore in places I didn't know existed, to not go to the pool for my planned swim. I slept instead. I hoped my Saturday run would make up for the laziness.
So Saturday brought less than ideal weather, but lots of energy from a day of recovery. Saturday also brought the birth of a new play list for my little iPod Shuffle. For years, as in four years, I have had the same songs on my Shuffle. They were great songs, but after hearing them two hundred and fifty times they had gotten a bit flat. They became noise in my head that helped only to take my mind off the pain. What they lacked was the ability to put a spring in my step and a jolt in my heart. They were decaffeinated and lukewarm. And lets face it, even at his best, Jack Johnson isn't exactly energizing. So despite the technical difficulty of figuring out how to strip and reload my Shuffle, I spent an hour and a half doing just that.
I am a new Iphone user. Traditionally very late with new technology, I recently bought a 3G Iphone (I'm always one model behind every one else) for one penny, and now have a smart phone that essentially makes life easier and more fun. I began building a small play list of inspiring songs. When I listen to the tunes I can't help but beat my foot to the rhythm and groove with the melody. Granted I have only compiled about 13 songs but it is the beginning of hours of running music.
I loaded my thirteen songs, almost an hour's worth of music, onto my Shuffle. Enough to get me through most of my 10 mile run. I can say with conviction that although I went into my run rested and ready, it was the music that made the magic. My first clue was in the first mile. Whereas I typically take my time warming up with a 7:30 to 7:45 mile, my watch beeped out a 6:59 first mile. Oops. That wasn't a very disciplined warm up. From there I headed straight into the wind for a two mile stretch, and although my face was flapping in contorted arrangements, like a high powered leaf blower was attacking me, I was rocking out and my magical run continued.
Onward went the run and the tunes, into the wind, with the wind, wind swirling all around me, pushing against me, pushing me forward, knocking me off my path, wet, slippery dirt threatened my footing, and finally that home stretch. It wasn't the fastest run, but it was fun. My final overall pace flashed across my watch in a 7:06, and I had to smile when I checked my final mile time. It was a 6:41. I had to run that last one hard because Bon Jovi told me to "live while I'm alive." So I did. Doubled over from the final effort, I walked the pain out of my legs and watched the palm trees give way to the strong gusts.
I wanted to share with you the songs on my new play list, and ask anyone who might be willing, to leave a comment with a few examples of your favorite running songs. I'm sure everyone has their favorites, and clearly my play list needs help to be built up just a bit.
Cindy's Running Play list:
In the category of sappy and inspiring:
The Climb by Miley Cyrus
One Moment in Time by Whitney Houston
In the category of slowish but meaningful:
Bad Day by Daniel Powter
Because of You by Kelly Clarkson
Superman by Five for Fighting
In the category of old school upbeat:
It's My Life by Bon Jovi
Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi
American Girl by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
In the category of edgy upbeat modern:
The Edge of Glory by Lady Gaga
Raise Your Glass by Pink
Viva La Vida by Coldplay
In the category of mellow inspiration:
Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson
Drops of Jupiter by Train
Please share your favorites.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
The Battle of the Bulge
Months ago, sometime over the summer I think, I noticed that my injured Achilles, which had become my re-injured Achilles, had a notable bulge to it when my foot was in a flexed position. This was ... un-nerving. I hadn't noticed this bulge during the previous 5 months of injury. Last year when my other Achilles was injured, it never featured a tell-tale bulge. What could this mean? Why the bulge? I promptly did the smart thing. I went online to self diagnose.
Mission 1 was to find out if this meant a partial rupture. Mission 2 was to find out if this was a symptom of some other problem. Perhaps there was a condition called "Bulging Achilles." Maybe I would discover that this was actually a sign of healing. Maybe bulging is good, although it looked like a deformity. There was not much information to be found, but the sum of what I did discover was: It was a symptom of Achilles Tendinitis (wow, a revelation), and, it indicated ankle instability. What? This was ... not helpful. So there was a bulge and I didn't know what it meant, if it would ever go away, or if it would get worse.
During today's church service, we were singing one of my favorite songs, "Blessed Be Your Name." The lyrics explain that God is to be praised during the good times and the bad. Whether we are walking through a desert or basking in a land of plenty, praise God. This song always causes me to be immediately introspective, so when I was singing, "Blessed be Your name, when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, Blessed by Your name" I looked down at my injured foot. Yes, in running, it has been a desert and a wilderness. A battle of the bulge. It was dark in the auditorium but in the illumination which remained, I flexed my foot and looked at the bulge. I despised it so I rarely flexed and looked. But you know, the lyrics and movement of the song compelled me.
Here's what I saw. Almost NO bulge. I was looking at an almost fully healthy Achilles tendon. I flexed harder. Where's the bulge? All I saw was a slight bump that indicated one thing: the desert was healing me. The wilderness toughened me, and I was headed back to the land of plenty with the sun shining down on me. I even snapped a photo when we got home.
I don't mean to be over dramatic about it, and I don't want to belittle the power of that worship song. Life, as in running, is comprised of journeys into and out of deserts and streams of abundance. And when I go introspective, running is not the only thing I ponder, but today the bulge, and lack there of, captured my attention.
Thank you for reading.
Mission 1 was to find out if this meant a partial rupture. Mission 2 was to find out if this was a symptom of some other problem. Perhaps there was a condition called "Bulging Achilles." Maybe I would discover that this was actually a sign of healing. Maybe bulging is good, although it looked like a deformity. There was not much information to be found, but the sum of what I did discover was: It was a symptom of Achilles Tendinitis (wow, a revelation), and, it indicated ankle instability. What? This was ... not helpful. So there was a bulge and I didn't know what it meant, if it would ever go away, or if it would get worse.
During today's church service, we were singing one of my favorite songs, "Blessed Be Your Name." The lyrics explain that God is to be praised during the good times and the bad. Whether we are walking through a desert or basking in a land of plenty, praise God. This song always causes me to be immediately introspective, so when I was singing, "Blessed be Your name, when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, Blessed by Your name" I looked down at my injured foot. Yes, in running, it has been a desert and a wilderness. A battle of the bulge. It was dark in the auditorium but in the illumination which remained, I flexed my foot and looked at the bulge. I despised it so I rarely flexed and looked. But you know, the lyrics and movement of the song compelled me.
Here's what I saw. Almost NO bulge. I was looking at an almost fully healthy Achilles tendon. I flexed harder. Where's the bulge? All I saw was a slight bump that indicated one thing: the desert was healing me. The wilderness toughened me, and I was headed back to the land of plenty with the sun shining down on me. I even snapped a photo when we got home.
I don't mean to be over dramatic about it, and I don't want to belittle the power of that worship song. Life, as in running, is comprised of journeys into and out of deserts and streams of abundance. And when I go introspective, running is not the only thing I ponder, but today the bulge, and lack there of, captured my attention.
Thank you for reading.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Why Do I Run
Why do I run? Well the obvious answer is to receive the innate and ultimate reward: a Venti 5 Shot Americano from Starbucks (half and half and lots of sugar). There is almost nothing better than to get through that run, as awesome and exhilarating as it is in and of itself, than to wipe off the sweat and head to Starbucks. I used to drink Americanos before a race, but I've changed that habit (for more than one reason) so that now I wait until after the race. Like a barn-sour horse heading back home to oats and honey, my final miles are focused on steaming hot caffeine with a roasty, toasty, deep flavor, with hints of caramel.
But again I ask, why do I run? When you're injured you ask that question. This is when the wolves, i.e. non-runners, or former runners, tell you that running is not good for you. Running breaks down your body, batters your spine and causes more rapid aging, they say. When you are feeling good, strong and whole, it is easy to refute such babble, but when you're injured, you have to revisit the same old question: why.
Is it worth the risk? Something devastating and long term can happen such as: getting hit by a car, rupturing a tendon, fracturing a bone, ripping a knee, sun-exposure ...
Why do I run? I began competitive running when I was 9. My elementary school had a cross-country team and because I was an odd child who ran for fun instead of playing with a barbie, my mom suggested that I join when I was in 4th grade. From there I competed in the Junior Olympic system for several years along with school competition, in both track and cross-country, until I hit middle and high school where I solely focused on school competition. And then later college. When you begin something that young and thrive on it, it is meant to be. It becomes a part of who you are, of your identity and your lifestyle. It is no different than eating, drinking, sleeping. It's what you do. It's what you do when you're a kid. It's what you do when you're a teenager. When you're a scholar. When you're pregnant, a mother, and it's what you do when you approach the top of the hill. It's what you do when you're 80.
Injuries: that which does not destroy me makes me stronger. When you get a toothache, you don't stop eating. Injuries make running more difficult, or even temporarily impossible, but the yearning and need are always present. Running is necessary for some of us, so when things happen, you will eventually find a way to get it done anyway.
This has been one of those years where running was more difficult and I constantly fought to find a way to get it done despite pain and mental anguish. I tried to be smart and rest through cross-training, and although it helped, the yearning drove me back to hitting the pavement too early in the healing process. But you know what ... I got so tired of the pit in my stomach that sank in when I could only watch others bounce along in their glorious, energizing, Americano earning pace. I had to get out there and earn MY Americano again. That's my year in a nutshell. And I am tired of thinking about, talking about and dealing with my lame Achilles tendon. It's sore, still injured, but getting better and will soon be nothing more than an important lesson from history. That's so 20 seconds ago.
I think I answered the question for myself a long time ago ... when I was 9. Why do I run? I don't run, I AM run. There is no question to be answered, never a reason to doubt, not a time when I need to wonder. I didn't choose it. I don't remember ever choosing to be a runner ... I was born a runner and I was fashioned by the hand of God, so I can take no credit or blame. I can only embrace it and give Him the glory and the anguish of it. And thank Him. Thank You.
But again I ask, why do I run? When you're injured you ask that question. This is when the wolves, i.e. non-runners, or former runners, tell you that running is not good for you. Running breaks down your body, batters your spine and causes more rapid aging, they say. When you are feeling good, strong and whole, it is easy to refute such babble, but when you're injured, you have to revisit the same old question: why.
Is it worth the risk? Something devastating and long term can happen such as: getting hit by a car, rupturing a tendon, fracturing a bone, ripping a knee, sun-exposure ...
Why do I run? I began competitive running when I was 9. My elementary school had a cross-country team and because I was an odd child who ran for fun instead of playing with a barbie, my mom suggested that I join when I was in 4th grade. From there I competed in the Junior Olympic system for several years along with school competition, in both track and cross-country, until I hit middle and high school where I solely focused on school competition. And then later college. When you begin something that young and thrive on it, it is meant to be. It becomes a part of who you are, of your identity and your lifestyle. It is no different than eating, drinking, sleeping. It's what you do. It's what you do when you're a kid. It's what you do when you're a teenager. When you're a scholar. When you're pregnant, a mother, and it's what you do when you approach the top of the hill. It's what you do when you're 80.
Injuries: that which does not destroy me makes me stronger. When you get a toothache, you don't stop eating. Injuries make running more difficult, or even temporarily impossible, but the yearning and need are always present. Running is necessary for some of us, so when things happen, you will eventually find a way to get it done anyway.
This has been one of those years where running was more difficult and I constantly fought to find a way to get it done despite pain and mental anguish. I tried to be smart and rest through cross-training, and although it helped, the yearning drove me back to hitting the pavement too early in the healing process. But you know what ... I got so tired of the pit in my stomach that sank in when I could only watch others bounce along in their glorious, energizing, Americano earning pace. I had to get out there and earn MY Americano again. That's my year in a nutshell. And I am tired of thinking about, talking about and dealing with my lame Achilles tendon. It's sore, still injured, but getting better and will soon be nothing more than an important lesson from history. That's so 20 seconds ago.
I think I answered the question for myself a long time ago ... when I was 9. Why do I run? I don't run, I AM run. There is no question to be answered, never a reason to doubt, not a time when I need to wonder. I didn't choose it. I don't remember ever choosing to be a runner ... I was born a runner and I was fashioned by the hand of God, so I can take no credit or blame. I can only embrace it and give Him the glory and the anguish of it. And thank Him. Thank You.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Ventura Turkey Trot 5K Race Report
When I pause to take mental inventory of my 2011 running and racing experience it would be oh so easy to become discouraged and dismayed. For the second year in a row I spent at least 8 out of the 12 months injured, in pain and trying desperately to recover and feel normal again. After a few good races early in the year, the remaining months have been difficult to say the least. With a stubborn Achilles injury that won't quite heal, I spent most of the year hoping to recover in time for the next big race.
However ... as it turns out ... I am not discouraged or dismayed at all. What has happened through pain, struggle and injury, just like in life itself, is a toughening and an increased pain tolerance that will most likely make me a better runner when I finally get healthy again. I used to feel frustrated with my painful runs but lately I have felt some different emotions: gutsiness, determination, perseverance. These qualities come only through adversity. In running and in life.
Because I thought my body could handle it and because I wanted one last race of the season, I ran the Ventura Turkey Trot yesterday, a 5K. For most (excluding me) it would be considered a fast course as it is fairly flat with wide turns in a figure "8" formation (a fast course for me would have some rolling hills). It can be subject to wind but on our race day wind was not much of a factor. The temperature was also ideal and the humidity was great. All the ingredients were there for a personal record.
Turkey Trots are a lot of fun because families come out to participate and everyone is joyful just to be there. It's great to see such a colorful crowd. Our crowd even included Deena Kastor (pushing a baby stroller) and her husband Andrew. Because there were a couple of hundred more runners than they expected our start was delayed by about 15 minutes. Not a bad thing but it usually frustrates me if we get a late start because my warm up is designed to get me to the line sweaty and breathing hard and I don't like to lose that by having to stand around unexpectedly. But "oh well," what are you going to do.
As I jogged the 2 mile warm up with John and Ricky, I wondered if my lack of speed training would cause extra suffering and prevent me from obtaining my goal of a sub-18 minute finish. While I've been able to ease back into some nice runs, even somewhat tempo, I haven't been able to do speed work in months. To compensate, I have had some hard speed work swims, but nothing really can replace the benefits of a good track session. Yah, so here I was about to do a 5K without speed work. Oh well. We warmed up nicely, stretched while waiting for a porta-potty, and got some strides in.
While pushing the strides, low-and-behold, my lower calf/Achilles tendon became tender and painful on my push-off (the Achilles had generally been less painful here of late so this was discouraging). I felt I could still run and hoped the adrenaline would diminish my notice of it during the race.
Finally our race started and I repeated in my mind as we went out fast, to NOT go too fast in my first mile. What I found with this course is that by contour of the roads, the first mile was faster and the second mile was more of a false flat and was much more difficult. I felt that coming through my first mile in 5:45 (that was my first mile time) might have been a tad too fast. At that point I felt like I could maintain the pace ... until I turned the corner into the second mile. Without even feeling the enormous slow down, I came through the second mile in 6:00 and it felt way too hard. It was somewhere in the midst of that second mile that I began limping to the pain in my leg. The pain I had hoped I wouldn't notice. It was intense and interrupted my normal stride. I spent a lot of mental energy trying to find a way to run that hurt less.
I was hanging with Michelle, who was the front running female, until the beginning of the third mile. It was at this point that I began to wonder if I could or should finish. I was in pain and my awkward stride stole precious energy. I had no way of picking up the pace even though I knew I had to. I saw Michelle and my sub-18 minute finish slip away and I went into a mode of "just get this thing done with." With a painfully slow 6:12 final mile (ugh!) I was fortunate to have not been passed by a lurking female (she finished 9 seconds behind me) and finished the second female overall, first Master, and first in my age group. But ... I walked away from the finish line in a full on limp. A masseuse requested I follow her to her table for some work but I declined. I didn't want anyone touching that tender leg and elected to jog a mile warm down which helped considerably.
It's hard to know how to feel with all that. My final time was 18:27 - not a good time for me as of late but under the circumstances of injury and lack of training, not all that bad. I don't know if I'd say the race was fun, nor will I suggest that it was smart to run injured, but I did it and was glad that it was over. The racing season is over and now I will focus on healing so that next year I can have 12 months of joyful, pain free running, training and racing.
There were some great positives that came out of this race for a few other dear runners: Michelle McToldridge came away the female winner in 18:02. Ricky Ho set a PR of 16:09 and finished 5th overall, and John had a breakthrough race and finished in 18:59. That was 1:07 faster than his last 5K and earned him 2nd in his age-group. Basically, Santa Barbara runners represented well in Ventura. We came away with 1st and 2nd overall female, 5th overall male, 3 first place age group wins and one second place age group win.
Time to rest. Time to heal. Time to aqua-run again. Although I lost 8 months (and counting) of the year to injury, I was still able to run 10 races: Romeo 4 miler, Romeo Couples 2 x 2 relay, Super Bowl 4 miler, Roses en la Playa 5K, Night Moves Swim/Run, Night Moves 5K, Westmonster 5K cross-country race, Santa Barbara Sprint Triathlon, Goleta Education Foundation 4 miler, Ventura Turkey Trot. I missed the Carlsbad 5000, World Masters Track and Field Championships, and Santa Barbara Half Marathon. I'll get those done next year.
However ... as it turns out ... I am not discouraged or dismayed at all. What has happened through pain, struggle and injury, just like in life itself, is a toughening and an increased pain tolerance that will most likely make me a better runner when I finally get healthy again. I used to feel frustrated with my painful runs but lately I have felt some different emotions: gutsiness, determination, perseverance. These qualities come only through adversity. In running and in life.
Because I thought my body could handle it and because I wanted one last race of the season, I ran the Ventura Turkey Trot yesterday, a 5K. For most (excluding me) it would be considered a fast course as it is fairly flat with wide turns in a figure "8" formation (a fast course for me would have some rolling hills). It can be subject to wind but on our race day wind was not much of a factor. The temperature was also ideal and the humidity was great. All the ingredients were there for a personal record.
Turkey Trots are a lot of fun because families come out to participate and everyone is joyful just to be there. It's great to see such a colorful crowd. Our crowd even included Deena Kastor (pushing a baby stroller) and her husband Andrew. Because there were a couple of hundred more runners than they expected our start was delayed by about 15 minutes. Not a bad thing but it usually frustrates me if we get a late start because my warm up is designed to get me to the line sweaty and breathing hard and I don't like to lose that by having to stand around unexpectedly. But "oh well," what are you going to do.
As I jogged the 2 mile warm up with John and Ricky, I wondered if my lack of speed training would cause extra suffering and prevent me from obtaining my goal of a sub-18 minute finish. While I've been able to ease back into some nice runs, even somewhat tempo, I haven't been able to do speed work in months. To compensate, I have had some hard speed work swims, but nothing really can replace the benefits of a good track session. Yah, so here I was about to do a 5K without speed work. Oh well. We warmed up nicely, stretched while waiting for a porta-potty, and got some strides in.
While pushing the strides, low-and-behold, my lower calf/Achilles tendon became tender and painful on my push-off (the Achilles had generally been less painful here of late so this was discouraging). I felt I could still run and hoped the adrenaline would diminish my notice of it during the race.
Finally our race started and I repeated in my mind as we went out fast, to NOT go too fast in my first mile. What I found with this course is that by contour of the roads, the first mile was faster and the second mile was more of a false flat and was much more difficult. I felt that coming through my first mile in 5:45 (that was my first mile time) might have been a tad too fast. At that point I felt like I could maintain the pace ... until I turned the corner into the second mile. Without even feeling the enormous slow down, I came through the second mile in 6:00 and it felt way too hard. It was somewhere in the midst of that second mile that I began limping to the pain in my leg. The pain I had hoped I wouldn't notice. It was intense and interrupted my normal stride. I spent a lot of mental energy trying to find a way to run that hurt less.
I was hanging with Michelle, who was the front running female, until the beginning of the third mile. It was at this point that I began to wonder if I could or should finish. I was in pain and my awkward stride stole precious energy. I had no way of picking up the pace even though I knew I had to. I saw Michelle and my sub-18 minute finish slip away and I went into a mode of "just get this thing done with." With a painfully slow 6:12 final mile (ugh!) I was fortunate to have not been passed by a lurking female (she finished 9 seconds behind me) and finished the second female overall, first Master, and first in my age group. But ... I walked away from the finish line in a full on limp. A masseuse requested I follow her to her table for some work but I declined. I didn't want anyone touching that tender leg and elected to jog a mile warm down which helped considerably.
It's hard to know how to feel with all that. My final time was 18:27 - not a good time for me as of late but under the circumstances of injury and lack of training, not all that bad. I don't know if I'd say the race was fun, nor will I suggest that it was smart to run injured, but I did it and was glad that it was over. The racing season is over and now I will focus on healing so that next year I can have 12 months of joyful, pain free running, training and racing.
There were some great positives that came out of this race for a few other dear runners: Michelle McToldridge came away the female winner in 18:02. Ricky Ho set a PR of 16:09 and finished 5th overall, and John had a breakthrough race and finished in 18:59. That was 1:07 faster than his last 5K and earned him 2nd in his age-group. Basically, Santa Barbara runners represented well in Ventura. We came away with 1st and 2nd overall female, 5th overall male, 3 first place age group wins and one second place age group win.
Time to rest. Time to heal. Time to aqua-run again. Although I lost 8 months (and counting) of the year to injury, I was still able to run 10 races: Romeo 4 miler, Romeo Couples 2 x 2 relay, Super Bowl 4 miler, Roses en la Playa 5K, Night Moves Swim/Run, Night Moves 5K, Westmonster 5K cross-country race, Santa Barbara Sprint Triathlon, Goleta Education Foundation 4 miler, Ventura Turkey Trot. I missed the Carlsbad 5000, World Masters Track and Field Championships, and Santa Barbara Half Marathon. I'll get those done next year.
Friday, October 7, 2011
The Uncrustable Principle
I wasn't expecting it when it hit me. But that's how these things work. There I was mindlessly eating a microwave thawed peanut butter and jelly Uncrustable (well not really mindlessly ... I was starving and therefore eating it with fervor) late in the afternoon. I took a bite on the top and out of the bottom squirted all my peanut butter and jelly. It came out like a Super Soaker and splatted all over my leg, chair, and alas, the floor. No way to salvage that. In hungry frustration, I sat there with my empty, deflated Uncrustable white bread thinking, "Holy cow. God didn't want me eating that one. May have been laced with some sort of unhealthy additive or bacteria ... or parasite." So, of course I heated up another one, sat down to eat it and, yes, predictably, it happened again. That's it. I've sworn off Uncrustables. Hmmm, but what's the real revelation here? The Uncrustable is a metaphor ... a meta for running.
Running is the perfect little package of round, bleached, spongy bread filled with runny protein and sugar, with the crust already removed. It's self-contained, healthy (ok, maybe that part of the metaphor breaks down on the part of the Uncrustable), convenient, satisfying, and whole. If you bite carefully, everything stays where it's supposed to, and when you're done eating, there are no crumbs and no runny globs. But what happens when you heat the Uncrustable and abuse it with a careless bite, and let's say the Uncrustable isn't as young as it used to be? When you bite, all the peanut butter and jelly squirts out. Yes, that's me. That's my running life.
I was so happy to have a strong race a few weeks ago. As I've been training myself back from injury, it was a good indication that something seems to be going right, or is at least getting better. The down side though, it that my body hurts. It hurts when I train and it hurts when I race. I'm still not back from the last Achilles injury (that happened in late February so we are going on 8 months now) and my knee is at varying degrees of inflammation. Sure I can run now and am not confined to the prison of "not-optional" cross-training, but I always wonder if my peanut butter and jelly is going to stay put. Every run hurts.
I'm getting smarter though. If my Uncrustable is getting too warm, I take it out of the microwave and let it cool off before I eat it. Love that swimming pool. Or the lake. John and I were blessed to get away for a few days up to Lake Tahoe last week. The lake temperature was slightly warmer than the ocean but I had my wetsuit just in case. We swam thousands of meters in crystal clear amazing water and oh! my peanut butter and jelly were loving it.
Another smart thing is that I will soon be getting my Uncrustable worked on. I am going to have my leg length discrepancy address and I am confident that this will strengthen my bread. I want to run as fast as I can for as long as I can, but I also want to be able to run ... period.
I have so far had a painful but really great week of workouts. Upon returning from high altitude, I did another attempt at the track and was able to achieve 4 x 800 before my peanut butter said "enough." But later that day I did the brutal Master's swim workout and beat the p-butter back into submission. Tuesday was a 10 miler under 7:00 pace, on a sore knee, and Achilles still screaming. Wednesday ushered in a session of 400 repeats on the treadmill, again ending when my peanut butter started oozing. But that was followed up with a great weight lifting session. Thursday was a nice 8 mile run in the wind (lovely gusts that knocked me backwards), again keeping things under 7:00 pace. Today will include a 4 mile tempo run if my peanut butter can handle it, and then another brutal Master's swim workout. Finally Saturday will be my long run of 15 miles. Gosh darn it. Each day hurts but not the kind of hurt that pops your bread.
So goes the metaphor of the Uncrustable. Here's to keeping those seams tight.
Running is the perfect little package of round, bleached, spongy bread filled with runny protein and sugar, with the crust already removed. It's self-contained, healthy (ok, maybe that part of the metaphor breaks down on the part of the Uncrustable), convenient, satisfying, and whole. If you bite carefully, everything stays where it's supposed to, and when you're done eating, there are no crumbs and no runny globs. But what happens when you heat the Uncrustable and abuse it with a careless bite, and let's say the Uncrustable isn't as young as it used to be? When you bite, all the peanut butter and jelly squirts out. Yes, that's me. That's my running life.
I was so happy to have a strong race a few weeks ago. As I've been training myself back from injury, it was a good indication that something seems to be going right, or is at least getting better. The down side though, it that my body hurts. It hurts when I train and it hurts when I race. I'm still not back from the last Achilles injury (that happened in late February so we are going on 8 months now) and my knee is at varying degrees of inflammation. Sure I can run now and am not confined to the prison of "not-optional" cross-training, but I always wonder if my peanut butter and jelly is going to stay put. Every run hurts.
I'm getting smarter though. If my Uncrustable is getting too warm, I take it out of the microwave and let it cool off before I eat it. Love that swimming pool. Or the lake. John and I were blessed to get away for a few days up to Lake Tahoe last week. The lake temperature was slightly warmer than the ocean but I had my wetsuit just in case. We swam thousands of meters in crystal clear amazing water and oh! my peanut butter and jelly were loving it.
Another smart thing is that I will soon be getting my Uncrustable worked on. I am going to have my leg length discrepancy address and I am confident that this will strengthen my bread. I want to run as fast as I can for as long as I can, but I also want to be able to run ... period.
I have so far had a painful but really great week of workouts. Upon returning from high altitude, I did another attempt at the track and was able to achieve 4 x 800 before my peanut butter said "enough." But later that day I did the brutal Master's swim workout and beat the p-butter back into submission. Tuesday was a 10 miler under 7:00 pace, on a sore knee, and Achilles still screaming. Wednesday ushered in a session of 400 repeats on the treadmill, again ending when my peanut butter started oozing. But that was followed up with a great weight lifting session. Thursday was a nice 8 mile run in the wind (lovely gusts that knocked me backwards), again keeping things under 7:00 pace. Today will include a 4 mile tempo run if my peanut butter can handle it, and then another brutal Master's swim workout. Finally Saturday will be my long run of 15 miles. Gosh darn it. Each day hurts but not the kind of hurt that pops your bread.
So goes the metaphor of the Uncrustable. Here's to keeping those seams tight.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
GEF 4 Miler Race Report
Santa Barbara was socked in with fog but the sun was shining bright next door in Goleta. The Goleta Education Foundation 4 miler is a fund raiser event to benefit music and PE programs at Goleta elementary schools. As a PE coach at Cleveland Elementary in Santa Barbara, I know first hand how desperate these programs are for funds. It is great to participate in this well organized event.
As typically happens to me going into a race, I spent some time considering the fact that my body hurts, my legs were tired (I ran a hard 13 miles yesterday), and I was secretly putting pressure on myself to suck it up and get out there and do my best. But my body really was hurting today. My recovering Achilles tendon seemed happy enough but my knee was having some drama. As I warmed up I wondered truly if it would hold out. Here's some advice. For a short race like 4 miles, warm up for at least 2 miles, and make certain you spend some energy doing fast striders just prior to the start. A good warm up does wonders for pre-race aches, and the striders (make sure you get winded) get you ready for a nice comfortable first mile.
As we started the race, boo!! my knee screamed at me immediately and I thought to myself that I would give it 400 meters to calm down. Thankfully it did and I was able to get into that first mile groove. It was very important for me to not go out too fast so I did my best to hold back. Therefore the first mile, which was a 5:55 felt nice and controlled. Most of the first mile is at a slight incline so that was a good opening mile for me.
Miles 2 and 3 meandered through the neighborhood and around Lake Los Carneros, and had some subtle up's and down's. My goal through these middle miles was to hold that first mile pace as long as I wasn't laboring too much. A gap developed between me and the group ahead, as well as the group behind, so I felt at times like I was out there by myself. I focused on my pace and took constant inventory of my body. The Achilles was fine, the knee was not. But at this point what are you going to do? Miles 2 and 3 were 5:57 and 5:58 respectively. Not too far off pace but I knew the final mile would have to be faster if I was going to surpass last year's time.
As I passed the 3 mile mark I went into "gut" mode. No longer was I looking to stay controlled and not too labored. I was looking to dig a little deeper, reach the red line and hold it to the finish line. Most of the final mile is at a slight decline and although the knee was screaming at me again, it was the perfect opportunity to stride out, pick up the pace and try to take in enough oxygen so as not to pass out. It is rare that I feel good at this point in a race but I really did feel good cardiovascularly today (considering I haven't yet been able to get out on the track for speed work). The final mile was 5:43 (or something close to that) for a final time of 23:32. This is an 18 second improvement over my time on this course last year. That, above all things, gave me great joy and reminded me of why I love to race.
The sky was a crisp blue, the air temperature moderate though a bit dry, no wind to speak of, and a plethora of jubilant volunteers all along the course. It was a great race day for many of the competitors and it was so nice to celebrate the achievement with a great community of runners.
I'm still on the recovery trail while at the same time, trying not to hurt some other body part in the process, but this was a good test of fitness. Although I'm limping around with an ice bag tied to my knee (later to be used on my Achilles), I have no regrets today, save my disappointment that John wasn't able to run because his back went into an untimely spasm yesterday. But he'll be back and good to go in a week :)
Thanks to the Goleta Education Foundation for putting on such a great event year after year and thanks to all the volunteers who come out to help.
As typically happens to me going into a race, I spent some time considering the fact that my body hurts, my legs were tired (I ran a hard 13 miles yesterday), and I was secretly putting pressure on myself to suck it up and get out there and do my best. But my body really was hurting today. My recovering Achilles tendon seemed happy enough but my knee was having some drama. As I warmed up I wondered truly if it would hold out. Here's some advice. For a short race like 4 miles, warm up for at least 2 miles, and make certain you spend some energy doing fast striders just prior to the start. A good warm up does wonders for pre-race aches, and the striders (make sure you get winded) get you ready for a nice comfortable first mile.
As we started the race, boo!! my knee screamed at me immediately and I thought to myself that I would give it 400 meters to calm down. Thankfully it did and I was able to get into that first mile groove. It was very important for me to not go out too fast so I did my best to hold back. Therefore the first mile, which was a 5:55 felt nice and controlled. Most of the first mile is at a slight incline so that was a good opening mile for me.
Miles 2 and 3 meandered through the neighborhood and around Lake Los Carneros, and had some subtle up's and down's. My goal through these middle miles was to hold that first mile pace as long as I wasn't laboring too much. A gap developed between me and the group ahead, as well as the group behind, so I felt at times like I was out there by myself. I focused on my pace and took constant inventory of my body. The Achilles was fine, the knee was not. But at this point what are you going to do? Miles 2 and 3 were 5:57 and 5:58 respectively. Not too far off pace but I knew the final mile would have to be faster if I was going to surpass last year's time.
As I passed the 3 mile mark I went into "gut" mode. No longer was I looking to stay controlled and not too labored. I was looking to dig a little deeper, reach the red line and hold it to the finish line. Most of the final mile is at a slight decline and although the knee was screaming at me again, it was the perfect opportunity to stride out, pick up the pace and try to take in enough oxygen so as not to pass out. It is rare that I feel good at this point in a race but I really did feel good cardiovascularly today (considering I haven't yet been able to get out on the track for speed work). The final mile was 5:43 (or something close to that) for a final time of 23:32. This is an 18 second improvement over my time on this course last year. That, above all things, gave me great joy and reminded me of why I love to race.
The sky was a crisp blue, the air temperature moderate though a bit dry, no wind to speak of, and a plethora of jubilant volunteers all along the course. It was a great race day for many of the competitors and it was so nice to celebrate the achievement with a great community of runners.
I'm still on the recovery trail while at the same time, trying not to hurt some other body part in the process, but this was a good test of fitness. Although I'm limping around with an ice bag tied to my knee (later to be used on my Achilles), I have no regrets today, save my disappointment that John wasn't able to run because his back went into an untimely spasm yesterday. But he'll be back and good to go in a week :)
Thanks to the Goleta Education Foundation for putting on such a great event year after year and thanks to all the volunteers who come out to help.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Nite Moves 5K Race Report
Greater than any report I have to give, the most excellent thing about this post is that I have a race report to give at all. After almost 6 months of injury recovery, I have finally been able to slide into a few races over the past couple of weeks. Although I am still not fully recovered, I am really at a stage of strengthening. With an Achilles injury, because I treated it properly by taking off completely from running, I now have to re-strengthen my right lower leg and calf muscle. It has been so long since I've been able to push off with my right toes and land mid-sole, that my leg has weakened and atrophied to some extent. So here I am finding ways to push past this part of recovery.
Prior to the onset of my injury back in February, my last race was a 5K called Roses En La Playa. On that cold winter morning, along with a couple a hundred other brave souls, I fought the wind, endured the course and completed it in 18:16 (my watch time). Shortly after that day, I had to say goodbye to racing and running for a while.
Last night I competed in the Nite Moves 5K race which is on the same course as Roses En La Playa. It was the perfect set up to see where I'm at compared to where I was in February. I couldn't help but to hope, as I do with every race I enter, that I would somehow exceed my expectations. I almost always hope for a PR unless the course is too challenging. So although I wasn't ready to run another PR, nor ready to race for that matter, I still hoped.
So here's how it played out: The race is an evening event and Wednesday evening was near perfect. It was a tad hot for me (mid-70's) but not bad for a 5K. Wind can be a factor on this course but the air was fairly calm. Over 200 runners toed the narrow starting line. The starting line, and really the whole course, is too narrow for such a crowd, but so it was. I always station myself two people or more back from the line using the logic that I figure at least 15 of these runners are faster than me so they should start ahead of me. Of course the trouble is that 80% of the people who line up at the front are way too slow to be up there. It is a frustration that I have to deal with. The start was too crowded and faster people converged on the slow "front of the line" hogs and it made for tripping, elbowing, pushing, and panic. It's hard enough for me to maintain the right speed at the beginning of a race, but with this situation I was at the mercy of everyone around me.
It took most of the first mile, a couple of times running in the grass to get around people, to get into a rhythm and to begin to think about the race itself. It was about this moment when I saw Kent just in front of me. It occurred to me that Kent just ran a 36 minute 10K a few days before and he always runs the race I wish I had. So I thought, "Cool. I'll just hang with Kent." So I slowed a bit and kind of hung just behind him but darn it, there was a female just ahead and I began to argue with myself to hold back. I slipped past Kent, rationalizing that he's probably just taking it easy today and isn't going all out. But as I pushed past, Kent wisely tells me to slow down (it is after all 1 1/2 miles uphill). I said, "Ok." But that girl right there ... right there ... does not need to be there, she needs to be behind me.
I did not do a good job of slowing down when Kent told me too, and before long it took its toll. Once we crested the hill and made the turn-around to go back down, Kent increased his speed and pulled away. I spent too much already and couldn't go with him (this happened at Roses En La Playa too). I did however get through the first two miles in under 6 minute pace which gave me at least a chance to break 18. And I did get past that female runner. The last mile and 1/2 are downhill and I was hoping that I'd feel relaxed, smooth and in control, but the truth is my broken fitness due to the layoff was lurking at my door.
There was one last motivation. I had to beat Cuyler. Cuyler is this amazing 14 year old swimmer on the Santa Barbara Swim Club and he's been blazing this course all summer (this race occurs weekly over the summer). John, my husband (who is Cuyler's swim coach) had talked smack to Cuyler on my behalf and set up this vicious rivalry. I had to beat Cuyler. And oops!! there he was just ahead of me and I was going faster than he was. I past him with about 1/2 mile to go and eeked out a whispered, "Go Cuyler." I really meant, "Stop running Cuyler. It's futile. You'll never beat the old lady Crawford." Would Cuyler even know what "futile" meant? Anyway, I said, "Go Cuyler." Yah. You could imagine what he did. Teenager boy. He went. He passed me back up, but I stayed stealthily close in case he showed weakness.
I finally came to the final hill down to the finish line and ahead of me I spotted a female (not Drea, she had already finished), and there wasn't suppose to be any other female ahead of me except Drea. I thought maybe she was just running along with another as a spectator. She was just a child (12 or 13'ish) and I had no idea where she came from. It's out and back. How could I have not seen her. People were cheering for her so she must have been in the race. Bummer, now I'm going to have to go for it. The last thing I felt like doing was running harder but I did. I had it in me and I sped past her in the final yards ... and almost scooped up Cuyler as well ... but alas, he did beat old lady Crawford (by a modest 3 seconds). I was satisfied with my 2nd overall female finish, and then I had to laugh when I found out that there was a kid's mile that had taken place which explains where the "young female" came from. But hey, whatever it takes to scoot me along a few seconds faster, I'll take it.
My finishing time: The all important finishing time which would reveal where I am now compared to where I was prior to my injury: 18:17 (by my watch). I have spent no time on the track and have only recently begun tempo runs again and still have pain, so I was pretty happy with that 1 second off my pre-injury time. Of course Kent finished in 17:41 which is where I WANT to be but I'll have to be patient. If I had run a little smarter, would I have run a better time, maybe beat Cuyler? Possibly. Every race is a lesson. Cuyler better watch his back.
Prior to the onset of my injury back in February, my last race was a 5K called Roses En La Playa. On that cold winter morning, along with a couple a hundred other brave souls, I fought the wind, endured the course and completed it in 18:16 (my watch time). Shortly after that day, I had to say goodbye to racing and running for a while.
Last night I competed in the Nite Moves 5K race which is on the same course as Roses En La Playa. It was the perfect set up to see where I'm at compared to where I was in February. I couldn't help but to hope, as I do with every race I enter, that I would somehow exceed my expectations. I almost always hope for a PR unless the course is too challenging. So although I wasn't ready to run another PR, nor ready to race for that matter, I still hoped.
So here's how it played out: The race is an evening event and Wednesday evening was near perfect. It was a tad hot for me (mid-70's) but not bad for a 5K. Wind can be a factor on this course but the air was fairly calm. Over 200 runners toed the narrow starting line. The starting line, and really the whole course, is too narrow for such a crowd, but so it was. I always station myself two people or more back from the line using the logic that I figure at least 15 of these runners are faster than me so they should start ahead of me. Of course the trouble is that 80% of the people who line up at the front are way too slow to be up there. It is a frustration that I have to deal with. The start was too crowded and faster people converged on the slow "front of the line" hogs and it made for tripping, elbowing, pushing, and panic. It's hard enough for me to maintain the right speed at the beginning of a race, but with this situation I was at the mercy of everyone around me.
It took most of the first mile, a couple of times running in the grass to get around people, to get into a rhythm and to begin to think about the race itself. It was about this moment when I saw Kent just in front of me. It occurred to me that Kent just ran a 36 minute 10K a few days before and he always runs the race I wish I had. So I thought, "Cool. I'll just hang with Kent." So I slowed a bit and kind of hung just behind him but darn it, there was a female just ahead and I began to argue with myself to hold back. I slipped past Kent, rationalizing that he's probably just taking it easy today and isn't going all out. But as I pushed past, Kent wisely tells me to slow down (it is after all 1 1/2 miles uphill). I said, "Ok." But that girl right there ... right there ... does not need to be there, she needs to be behind me.
I did not do a good job of slowing down when Kent told me too, and before long it took its toll. Once we crested the hill and made the turn-around to go back down, Kent increased his speed and pulled away. I spent too much already and couldn't go with him (this happened at Roses En La Playa too). I did however get through the first two miles in under 6 minute pace which gave me at least a chance to break 18. And I did get past that female runner. The last mile and 1/2 are downhill and I was hoping that I'd feel relaxed, smooth and in control, but the truth is my broken fitness due to the layoff was lurking at my door.
There was one last motivation. I had to beat Cuyler. Cuyler is this amazing 14 year old swimmer on the Santa Barbara Swim Club and he's been blazing this course all summer (this race occurs weekly over the summer). John, my husband (who is Cuyler's swim coach) had talked smack to Cuyler on my behalf and set up this vicious rivalry. I had to beat Cuyler. And oops!! there he was just ahead of me and I was going faster than he was. I past him with about 1/2 mile to go and eeked out a whispered, "Go Cuyler." I really meant, "Stop running Cuyler. It's futile. You'll never beat the old lady Crawford." Would Cuyler even know what "futile" meant? Anyway, I said, "Go Cuyler." Yah. You could imagine what he did. Teenager boy. He went. He passed me back up, but I stayed stealthily close in case he showed weakness.
I finally came to the final hill down to the finish line and ahead of me I spotted a female (not Drea, she had already finished), and there wasn't suppose to be any other female ahead of me except Drea. I thought maybe she was just running along with another as a spectator. She was just a child (12 or 13'ish) and I had no idea where she came from. It's out and back. How could I have not seen her. People were cheering for her so she must have been in the race. Bummer, now I'm going to have to go for it. The last thing I felt like doing was running harder but I did. I had it in me and I sped past her in the final yards ... and almost scooped up Cuyler as well ... but alas, he did beat old lady Crawford (by a modest 3 seconds). I was satisfied with my 2nd overall female finish, and then I had to laugh when I found out that there was a kid's mile that had taken place which explains where the "young female" came from. But hey, whatever it takes to scoot me along a few seconds faster, I'll take it.
My finishing time: The all important finishing time which would reveal where I am now compared to where I was prior to my injury: 18:17 (by my watch). I have spent no time on the track and have only recently begun tempo runs again and still have pain, so I was pretty happy with that 1 second off my pre-injury time. Of course Kent finished in 17:41 which is where I WANT to be but I'll have to be patient. If I had run a little smarter, would I have run a better time, maybe beat Cuyler? Possibly. Every race is a lesson. Cuyler better watch his back.
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