Good Grief

Of course, it doesn't matter if I go to bed on time if certain infant progeny wake up at 5:15 a.m., instead of an hour later as is usual. Hmph.

Lessons From a Hard Run

A couple of weeks ago I had a lousy long run, one of those where you feel certain that you have just lost all your running ability, your best days are long behind you, and what business do you have calling yourself a runner anyway.

And really, I knew better. I made some serious mistakes heading into the run and didn't make adjustments. Looking back, I should be grateful I was able to do it, and without injury to myself. I guess that's testament both to my general hardiness, and to my bullheadedness.

So, in the spirit of learning from my mistakes - and admitting them - here are lessons from a hard run.

1. I missed my morning snack the day before (too busy at work) and then was so pleased that I'd missed a meal (since I still have a bit of crazy dieter mentality left in me) that I didn't make it up later in the day.
2. I didn't get to bed on time the night before, and haven't been getting enough sleep this month, so when I got up that morning I already felt depleted. Right then, I should have revised my training plans for the day.
3. It was HOT! Ninety-seven degrees. Given the heat, I should have a) been much more deliberate about going at a slower pace, b) planned in more frequent walking breaks, and c) changed my planned route to one more in the shade, instead of on the lakefront.

Any one of these I could have taken in stride, ha, ha, but not all three.

Since I'd already done 9 miles this season, I didn't give it the respect I should have. I finished, and I was never in any danger of heatstroke (I am at least good about keeping tabs on that), but it was not fun, and I didn't feel good afterward. And of course I went over my estimated time range, which is probably what rankled me most.

Last week was an easy week, so tomorrow will be the first long run since then, and I have 10 miles planned. I'm not worried about it going poorly, since I've had some good runs in the meantime, and conditions are much more favorable. But what I want to take away from the lousy run, and why I'm writing about it, is not to be cocky about any run, of any distance. Every run is a gift, not to be taken lightly.

And now to bed!

In Her Words...

I've been wondering how to explain why running is so important to me, and why my secret burning ambition in running is so important to me (still not ready to share that, you'll have to wait), and then I read Ironmatron's post on why she wants to qualify for the Kona Ironman. And while it's not my S.B.A.* to do a triathlon of any length, I really related to what she wrote. Especially:

"Because I don't want to look like the middle-aged mom that I am; I want to look like the twenty-year old lassie I wish I once was."

Emphasis mine. Except for me it's about feeling like the twenty-year old lassie, rather than looking like her.

I always wanted to be an athlete, and somehow, not quite sure how exactly, this is the year I decided I would be.

I've heard there's nothing like becoming a parent to get clear on what you really want. So thank you, Buddy, for giving me that extra gift, beyond your own sweet self.

*Secret Burning Ambition

Sad

My cousin buried his young son today. Z would have been three years old this October. He had the best care possible but in the end the cancer came back and killed him.

I don't know what to write. There's so much I wish was different. I think really all I can do is be sad.

Rest in peace, Z. You will be much missed.

Englewood Reserve

I went out to the Englewood Reserve to run - it's been years since I got to go trail running!

Before our trip to Ohio I hoped I could hit the trails, though I couldn't remember if the reserve was paved all the way in or not. It started with a steep paved downhill, and then a long curved drive that climbed back up, all lined with tall trees. I love hills, so even though I wasn't convinced that I would find trails I was already happy with the run. But then I got to the first open area and found trails, hoorah! I immediately took off my iPod and stashed it in my shorts – I just can’t run on trails and listen to music at the same time. It feels disrespectful somehow, never mind the fact that I've got to watch my footing. And these trails have lots of rocks, roots, and quick up-and-downs.

I ran one loop and was surprised at how short it was, so I decided to just pick a path, follow it to the end, and then find another loop to take. After a while I ended up on one path bordering the lake. Very narrow, very overgrown, lots of serrated leaves catching at my calves - I prayed that my good luck with poison ivy would continue to hold. I saw a snake, thin and writhing, right before I was on top of it – there was no room to move around so I just went over instead.

The trail got narrower and narrower (and the leaves sharper and sharper) so when there was a chance to leave I took it and ended up back on the main road. Followed a couple of different loops in that area then rejoined the trail by the river, came back to the first loop I had run and just ran that a few more times until I felt I should probably head home. Decided to run up that initial steep hill I’d run down - made it!

Heavenly. To be in all that green, to have every step different, to not worry about how fast I was going but just have my pace shift with the trail. Just my breath, my feet, and the ground I was passing over.

I don't know if I'll get back any more on this trip so I am writing this down to carry it close to me when I'm back in the land of concrete and steel.

Junk Miles

I had a very unsatisfying run this afternoon, made worse by knowing I had all these great runs over the weekend. I felt like I made dumb choices, the two main ones being that I ran on pavement in shoes that are best on the track, and I started off too fast when it really does take me a full mile to get warmed up. Plus I was kind of experimenting with my form, which might have been better to do in a more controlled setting. Like the track, say.

I thought I would try running on the sidewalks lining Lake Shore Drive (heading north from where I work up to Lincoln Park) since I enjoy walking on them and I don't like running on the lakefront that far south - but enjoying those walks did not translate to enjoying the run. Or maybe it would have if I hadn't made those aforementioned mistakes. I don't know. There was exhaust from the cars on LSD, there was sticky warm air coming off of the lake, there was construction and tourists and lots of traffic stops. Plus I don't know my way around Lincoln Park at all and was running out of time, so once I got there I pretty much just ran in a little circle so I wouldn't get lost and then turned back around into the traffic, tourists, and construction.

So much for changing things up on a workday run. On the way over I passed the track and thought, "Oh, maybe I should just run on the track, it'll be nice and breezy, it'll feel comfortable, I didn't get to at all last week, I miss it," and then I just kept going, wanting to try something new. But it takes me too long to get anywhere good from downtown, so that doesn't work for my short runs - by the time I get someplace I like I have to turn around again. So forget it. No more exploratory runs from work. I like the track and I'll just stick with it.

It probably didn't help that I had an unsatisfying day at work prior to this, no? Or that I've been feeling F-A-T? So much for all that lightness and joy I was raving on about.

In the end I was too disgusted with myself to even shower - I just wanted to come back to the office and get through the rest of the workday.

The Dude calls days like these "junk miles" and says they're useful. I don't run so many days a week that I want to have any of them be junk. But I suppose maybe I learned some things that will be useful to me later.

Like don't run downtown!

What a Week --- Part 2

Lately I've been reading the book "Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen" by Christopher McDougall, and there's lots and lots in it I could talk about, but what stayed with me this week on these tough runs is when he talks about the joy of running, how children and certain athletes and the Tarahumara Indians that he's writing about all have this profound joy in their running, a lightness in spirit, and how that ends up being a lightness in their physical running as well. And how his own running is transformed in trying to emulate that lightness.

This speaks to me because I feel that I frequently have that joy in my running - so often when I pass people on the street I see grim, intense faces (and I'm sure the same is true for me too sometimes) but so often I know I'm smiling instead.

And sometimes when the running is hard I can call on that lightness, think about being light on my feet, imagine myself breathing in light, see all my muscles and tendons and ligaments and bones being held together loosely, connecting lightly, instead of being tense or locked together --- and it helps.

I called on this for the first run with Buster in particular, both at the beginning when I wasn't yet warmed up and when it seemed impossible to do this kind of run with a stroller (remind me again why I chose to run 6 miles with a baby in tow*) - and then again at the end after I ended up running an extra mile and a half... a little bit too fast... in the sun... and was hurting, oh, just a little bit.

And that lightness carried me through.

*Why am I doing this? Because I love it, and I want to run much more, much farther, and I want to love it all the way. And if some days that means taking the baby along, well, endurance is endurance, yes? Seems like good practice for the kinds of crazy-ass races I want to run someday.