Most readers of this blog had no idea I was even considering the Des Moines Marathon, so the declaration that I've decided against it doesn't have quite the impact.
After my half marathon success, I began to wonder whether I should take on a new challenge, and the obvious next step seemed to be a marathon.
The even more obvious next step seemed to be the Des Moines Marathon: It takes place in late October; I live near one of the more challenging portions of the race; and I now work from home on flexible hours.
What I didn't account for, though, was the freedom of no longer working nights and weekends. I've been taking full advantage of this new development — it's like summer break for grownups, because there's time to play and income to fund the fun.
There were a few other factors pushing me away from the marathon, but that was the primary one.
Here are the races I'm considering instead:
Bix 7 (July 25). I still have to figure out whether I trust myself to not party too hard during the July 24 Cheap Trick concert in Coralville and then wake up at 5 a.m. to get to Davenport by 6:30 a.m. for day-of packet pickup.
Also, I'll be honest: Racing in Des Moines has spoiled me when it comes to race-day travel. With the exception of RAGBRAI 2014, I've barely given transportation and parking a thought since I left Rockton.
But the outlook looks fairly promising. I'm struggling with motivation to run, and encouraged by the general feasibility of doing this race.
Capital Pursuit (Sept. 20). The website claims it's a fast race, so we'll see whether I can beat my last 10-mile race, which definitely incorporated hills. This will force me to train, but not to suffer: I'd probably start training the last week of July (or early August, if I do the Bix 7).
Sycamore 8 (early December). An off-road race in the Midwest in early winter? If that doesn't say "new challenge," I don't know what does.
Half marathon wild cards: I would consider doing the NewBo half marathon (Sept. 6), the Des Moines half (Oct. 18) or the Hillbilly Hike (Nov. 7).
Friends have expressed vague interest in doing the NewBo half and the Des Moines half, so I offered to run with them should they decide to do so. Also, NewBo and Hillbilly both also host a 10K; I could use those as a baseline, if 10K becomes next year's speed target.
And finally (geez, I ramble), I have two formal bike rides actually planned: this weekend's Bacoon Ride, which we could manage to stretch into a century ride, and more importantly, the Tour de Fur on Aug. 30, which benefits Furry Friends Refuge!
Showing posts with label friend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friend. Show all posts
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Race report: Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon
This won't come as a surprise to anyone who follows me on Instagram, but this year's Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon was the polar opposite of my 2013 experience.
The short version: Race-day weather was perfect, I didn't stop to walk once, and I finished with a milestone personal record that far exceeded my goals.
The numbers: 1:58:59 (9:05 pace) overall; 56:32 (9:08 pace) at 10K; 1:02:27 (9:03 pace) for the final 6.9 miles.
I did Bulldog Hill in 4:19:54, which because I never bothered to time myself during training doesn't mean a whole lot. My preliminary results sheet says that was good for 17th in my division (in comparison, my 10K rank was 38 and my total race rank was 25).
So, to back up, for anyone who cares. Cory and I both decided to keep the 2:00:00 pacers within our sights for as long as it felt OK. That turned out to be the entire race, though how close they were did vary. (We figured out eventually that they went out a bit fast to bank time on the hills.)
I didn't feel fantastic starting out, but by mile 2 it became apparent to me that it was simply a matter of warming up. Everything felt springy and good until close to mile 7.
At that point, we'd changed directions, and we both actually started to get a little too hot. I even had a moment of light-headedness, so I made sure to get some water at the next aid station. That, plus a light breeze and more shade along the route, seemed to do the trick.
Somewhere after mile 8, Cory and I made a friend whose name we forgot to ask and for whom we later wished we'd waited at the finish line. We chatted with Mr. Quad Cities for nearly three miles about beer, pets and careers (as well as running) — a really nice way for us to keep our minds off the hills ahead.
Speaking of hills, the worst one for me was actually up Fleur Drive back to downtown. Not only was it the only one I hadn't practiced, but also it was very exposed to the strongest winds we'd felt yet that day.
After that, Cory and I were feeling much more confident: We'd entered our home turf. Up Grand we went, trying to encourage all the walkers (in an honest, voice-of-experience way), and turned onto 28th ... at which point I got butterflies.
We were so close at that point. I knew I had locked down all my safe goals, but only Cory had a sense for just how well we were doing. But so close didn't mean so easy.
Just as we got to the intersection of 28th and Ingersoll, I glanced at the spectators and saw co-worker Chris, there to cheer on his girlfriend with their beautiful dog. He recognized me too and yelled some encouragement, and I shouted back that I'd practiced on Bulldog Hill, I had it in the bag.
And maybe that was the pep talk I needed — not from him, but from myself — so up I went, passing quite a few walkers on the way. (What a jerk, right?)
Not long after we crested the hill, Cory turned to me and said he was gonna step it up. This came right as I felt the worst, far enough from the hill where we'd both caught our breath, but close enough where the fatigue had suddenly all settled into my left quad.
"Go ahead," I said. "I don't have anything extra." He tried to be encouraging, but I let a little whine creep into my voice as I insisted I really didn't.
I'm sure I slowed up some, yet I never lost sight of Cory. And once I was within sight of University Avenue and had about a mile left, my legs found a second wind.
I have never, ever, felt so strong during mile 12 of a race. Not even during the 2013 Des Moines Half Marathon, when I PR'ed by eight minutes. I did pass a few people and gained some ground on Cory, and my revival was rewarded when I entered the stadium ...
... this year, you barely had to run around the track. Instead of a quarter-mile left, I had not even a quarter of the track!
My spirits went from great to over the moon. I think I yelled "f--- yeah two hours!" as I sprinted that final leg, arms in the air, tossing that monkey off my back with conviction.
Once more: 1:58:59. I cleared 2:00:00 with a whole minute to spare. There is literally nothing I can think of, from my taper week through mile 13.09, that I wish I'd done differently or better.
Time to kick back for a week and bask in my glory before deciding what's next.
The short version: Race-day weather was perfect, I didn't stop to walk once, and I finished with a milestone personal record that far exceeded my goals.
The numbers: 1:58:59 (9:05 pace) overall; 56:32 (9:08 pace) at 10K; 1:02:27 (9:03 pace) for the final 6.9 miles.
I did Bulldog Hill in 4:19:54, which because I never bothered to time myself during training doesn't mean a whole lot. My preliminary results sheet says that was good for 17th in my division (in comparison, my 10K rank was 38 and my total race rank was 25).
So, to back up, for anyone who cares. Cory and I both decided to keep the 2:00:00 pacers within our sights for as long as it felt OK. That turned out to be the entire race, though how close they were did vary. (We figured out eventually that they went out a bit fast to bank time on the hills.)
I didn't feel fantastic starting out, but by mile 2 it became apparent to me that it was simply a matter of warming up. Everything felt springy and good until close to mile 7.
At that point, we'd changed directions, and we both actually started to get a little too hot. I even had a moment of light-headedness, so I made sure to get some water at the next aid station. That, plus a light breeze and more shade along the route, seemed to do the trick.
Somewhere after mile 8, Cory and I made a friend whose name we forgot to ask and for whom we later wished we'd waited at the finish line. We chatted with Mr. Quad Cities for nearly three miles about beer, pets and careers (as well as running) — a really nice way for us to keep our minds off the hills ahead.
Speaking of hills, the worst one for me was actually up Fleur Drive back to downtown. Not only was it the only one I hadn't practiced, but also it was very exposed to the strongest winds we'd felt yet that day.
After that, Cory and I were feeling much more confident: We'd entered our home turf. Up Grand we went, trying to encourage all the walkers (in an honest, voice-of-experience way), and turned onto 28th ... at which point I got butterflies.
We were so close at that point. I knew I had locked down all my safe goals, but only Cory had a sense for just how well we were doing. But so close didn't mean so easy.
Just as we got to the intersection of 28th and Ingersoll, I glanced at the spectators and saw co-worker Chris, there to cheer on his girlfriend with their beautiful dog. He recognized me too and yelled some encouragement, and I shouted back that I'd practiced on Bulldog Hill, I had it in the bag.
And maybe that was the pep talk I needed — not from him, but from myself — so up I went, passing quite a few walkers on the way. (What a jerk, right?)
Not long after we crested the hill, Cory turned to me and said he was gonna step it up. This came right as I felt the worst, far enough from the hill where we'd both caught our breath, but close enough where the fatigue had suddenly all settled into my left quad.
"Go ahead," I said. "I don't have anything extra." He tried to be encouraging, but I let a little whine creep into my voice as I insisted I really didn't.
I'm sure I slowed up some, yet I never lost sight of Cory. And once I was within sight of University Avenue and had about a mile left, my legs found a second wind.
I have never, ever, felt so strong during mile 12 of a race. Not even during the 2013 Des Moines Half Marathon, when I PR'ed by eight minutes. I did pass a few people and gained some ground on Cory, and my revival was rewarded when I entered the stadium ...
... this year, you barely had to run around the track. Instead of a quarter-mile left, I had not even a quarter of the track!
My spirits went from great to over the moon. I think I yelled "f--- yeah two hours!" as I sprinted that final leg, arms in the air, tossing that monkey off my back with conviction.
Once more: 1:58:59. I cleared 2:00:00 with a whole minute to spare. There is literally nothing I can think of, from my taper week through mile 13.09, that I wish I'd done differently or better.
Time to kick back for a week and bask in my glory before deciding what's next.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Progress report on Hy-Vee Half Marathon training
I have been a very diligent little runner this spring, and it seems to be paying off.
Of course this year, I haven't had to contend with the polar vortex, so skipping workouts has been harder to justify.
Nor have I brought my phone on most of my long runs — I get tired of holding it and of obsessing over the statistics. Also, Cory has joined me on most of them, so I feel less likely to encounter trouble with no way of calling for help.
So that means I'm judging progress on feel alone, which is OK. I signed up for this half marathon to keep myself accountable in general and to get in tip-top shape for a spring 5K. (Mission accomplished.)
Here are my takeaways from the long runs so far, though.
Seven-miler: My parents had visited us this weekend, and while we hadn't indulged ourselves on a Roman emperor's level, we certainly hadn't skimped on the calories or hydrated optimally.
We also didn't head out until midafternoon on the first truly nice weekend Des Moines had seen all year, so temperatures were a little higher than what we were used to.
Nevertheless, I felt amazing through the first four or five miles. I did lose a little bit of giddy-up once we hit Bulldog Hill, which only surprised me because of how good I felt leading up to it, and how easy the hill had felt in earlier shorter and colder long runs.
Eight-miler: We left much earlier this time. It took me longer to find my groove during this run, but I did find it.
Our route also hit three hills that we'll encounter in the race: up from Gray's Lake, west on Grand Avenue from downtown, and up Bulldog Hill. Yep, definitely getting harder ... but not impossible.
Nine-miler: I noticed my enthusiasm shrivel once I put running clothes on, a sure signal that training is peaking and that race day had better be soon OR ELSE. (This is the second-to-last long run of the plan, so race day is close.)
If you were in Des Moines on Easter Sunday, you can easily imagine how this run took some effort. If you weren't — it was warm and windy. Not constantly windy, or constantly in-your-face windy, but definitely drying.
I felt slow and sluggish at first, probably because of both the weather and a lingering cold, and when we stopped for water around mile 5, I developed a side stitch. Good timing, as we had our three hills still ahead of us.
Either my random prodding of muscles worked, or my body handled the stitch on its own, because by the time we got up Grand to take on Bulldog Hill, I don't remember it being there anymore. In a way, I was glad for the wind, heat and cramps — any or all of these could happen on race day, so might as well be prepared.
Cory peeled off at 28th, so I had to do Bulldog Hill alone. Even without peer pressure, I did NOT cave and walk. But man, is that hill growing tougher as the runs get longer ...
Of course this year, I haven't had to contend with the polar vortex, so skipping workouts has been harder to justify.
Nor have I brought my phone on most of my long runs — I get tired of holding it and of obsessing over the statistics. Also, Cory has joined me on most of them, so I feel less likely to encounter trouble with no way of calling for help.
So that means I'm judging progress on feel alone, which is OK. I signed up for this half marathon to keep myself accountable in general and to get in tip-top shape for a spring 5K. (Mission accomplished.)
Here are my takeaways from the long runs so far, though.
Seven-miler: My parents had visited us this weekend, and while we hadn't indulged ourselves on a Roman emperor's level, we certainly hadn't skimped on the calories or hydrated optimally.
We also didn't head out until midafternoon on the first truly nice weekend Des Moines had seen all year, so temperatures were a little higher than what we were used to.
Nevertheless, I felt amazing through the first four or five miles. I did lose a little bit of giddy-up once we hit Bulldog Hill, which only surprised me because of how good I felt leading up to it, and how easy the hill had felt in earlier shorter and colder long runs.
Eight-miler: We left much earlier this time. It took me longer to find my groove during this run, but I did find it.
Our route also hit three hills that we'll encounter in the race: up from Gray's Lake, west on Grand Avenue from downtown, and up Bulldog Hill. Yep, definitely getting harder ... but not impossible.
Nine-miler: I noticed my enthusiasm shrivel once I put running clothes on, a sure signal that training is peaking and that race day had better be soon OR ELSE. (This is the second-to-last long run of the plan, so race day is close.)
If you were in Des Moines on Easter Sunday, you can easily imagine how this run took some effort. If you weren't — it was warm and windy. Not constantly windy, or constantly in-your-face windy, but definitely drying.
I felt slow and sluggish at first, probably because of both the weather and a lingering cold, and when we stopped for water around mile 5, I developed a side stitch. Good timing, as we had our three hills still ahead of us.
Either my random prodding of muscles worked, or my body handled the stitch on its own, because by the time we got up Grand to take on Bulldog Hill, I don't remember it being there anymore. In a way, I was glad for the wind, heat and cramps — any or all of these could happen on race day, so might as well be prepared.
Cory peeled off at 28th, so I had to do Bulldog Hill alone. Even without peer pressure, I did NOT cave and walk. But man, is that hill growing tougher as the runs get longer ...
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Upcoming races, of sorts: Woofin' It 5K and Walk MS
May is apparently my charitable athletic month this year. I've signed up for two events that benefit causes with particular significance to me, so I'll use this platform to recruit others to join me.
May 9 is the Woofin' It 5K, which loyal readers recognize as a fundraiser for Furry Friends Refuge, the no-kill shelter that kept Dusty for 1.5 years before I adopted him.
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It's literally the cutest 5K I've ever done and probably will ever do, because dogs are invited to accompany their owners and participate in a costume contest.
So. 9 a.m. start on Saturday, May 9, in Campbell Park in Clive. Registration is still only $25; sign up here. (Please. Think of the puppies! And the kitties, even though they're not invited!)
A week after that is an event to help humans: the MS Walk in Cedar Rapids. My good friend Chelsea has been doing this event for a few years now, inspired by our friend Doug's battle with MS.
In the past I've given to team Mighty Myelin Power Rangers, but this year I'm headed out to the actual event. If you feel like supporting my endeavors without running, you can donate here.
/end soapbox.
In the past I've given to team Mighty Myelin Power Rangers, but this year I'm headed out to the actual event. If you feel like supporting my endeavors without running, you can donate here.
/end soapbox.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Rain on my parade? I think not
I went for my first run in nearly six weeks on Friday: two miles.
I'd planned to alternate between running and walking every quarter-mile.
That lasted all of one walk segment. Partly because I got a late start; mostly because going slow felt just fine.
I also didn't plan to get caught in a downpour, but it happened anyway. And yes, when I saw that there was a light drizzle with chances of thunderstorms, I considered staying in and staying dry.
Obviously, I didn't cave, and my determination was applauded by a bicyclist chugging through the same storm.
Many of my leg muscles were less thrilled the next day, but I'll tolerate their complaints after their surprisingly good performance during the run.
A text from running/riding buddy Regina that arrived later summed up the experience best: "So I went for a run and it didn't suck! This bodes so well for post-RAGBRAI."
Agreed.
I'd planned to alternate between running and walking every quarter-mile.
That lasted all of one walk segment. Partly because I got a late start; mostly because going slow felt just fine.
I also didn't plan to get caught in a downpour, but it happened anyway. And yes, when I saw that there was a light drizzle with chances of thunderstorms, I considered staying in and staying dry.
Obviously, I didn't cave, and my determination was applauded by a bicyclist chugging through the same storm.
Many of my leg muscles were less thrilled the next day, but I'll tolerate their complaints after their surprisingly good performance during the run.
A text from running/riding buddy Regina that arrived later summed up the experience best: "So I went for a run and it didn't suck! This bodes so well for post-RAGBRAI."
Agreed.
Friday, July 4, 2014
A month's worth of fretting over RAGBRAI preparation
I can always find something to worry about. This blog is jam-packed with proof of that, if you've somehow missed every race-run-up post.
RAGBRAI is no exception, and some of the folks I ride with are good at — inadvertently, I'm sure — feeding that tendency.
One participated in the RAGBRAI pre-ride, so he has plenty to say about the extreme hills at the end.
Another waxes dramatic about the lack of long rides he's gotten in and how the ones he has done have knocked him out, sending me on a frantic mental search of lengthy rides and how fatigued I was after them.
Recently, yearly mileage started to be tossed around. Comparisons were made, to each other and to the suggested 1,000-plus threshold to attain before RAGBRAI.
By that point, all the negativity from others (but mostly my own self) had worn me down to where I couldn't even be bothered to work up a panic over my mileage.
Then the humidity broke, and I rode for nearly 50 miles at my own pace with plenty of water. And I started to wonder just how many miles I'd put in.
As it turns out, that ride put me around 900 for the year, if I've been accurately reporting my mileage on Daily Mile.
How many more times do I have to tell myself?
RIDE YOUR PACE.
ADJUST TO CONDITIONS.
This year, hopefully, Independence Day means freedom from turning what used to be a beloved holiday into a source of frustration and fuel for self-criticism.
RAGBRAI is no exception, and some of the folks I ride with are good at — inadvertently, I'm sure — feeding that tendency.
One participated in the RAGBRAI pre-ride, so he has plenty to say about the extreme hills at the end.
Another waxes dramatic about the lack of long rides he's gotten in and how the ones he has done have knocked him out, sending me on a frantic mental search of lengthy rides and how fatigued I was after them.
Recently, yearly mileage started to be tossed around. Comparisons were made, to each other and to the suggested 1,000-plus threshold to attain before RAGBRAI.
By that point, all the negativity from others (but mostly my own self) had worn me down to where I couldn't even be bothered to work up a panic over my mileage.
Then the humidity broke, and I rode for nearly 50 miles at my own pace with plenty of water. And I started to wonder just how many miles I'd put in.
As it turns out, that ride put me around 900 for the year, if I've been accurately reporting my mileage on Daily Mile.
How many more times do I have to tell myself?
RIDE YOUR PACE.
ADJUST TO CONDITIONS.
This year, hopefully, Independence Day means freedom from turning what used to be a beloved holiday into a source of frustration and fuel for self-criticism.
Friday, June 27, 2014
A day full of firsts
I had two good reasons not to commute by bike yesterday: scattered thunderstorms and a slow leak in my back tire.
But I did it anyway and am disproportionately proud of myself for it.
The light rain on my way to work wasn't much of a problem. I tossed everything that needed to stay dry into a clean cat-litter tub and congratulated myself on a first successful commute in the rain. (It's been a very lucky two months.)
The leak was a little bit more of an issue. It was slow enough that I knew I could pump the tire up right before leaving and arrive with plenty of pressure left.
After that, though, I'd need expert guidance on how to patch or replace the tube. Fortunately, my bike-mechanic boyfriend was only a block away.
It was the perfect opportunity for me to finally try doing it myself — we weren't on a trail with bugs swarming us, or in a hurry to get somewhere.
So after three years of owning a road bike, I did it, with Cory talking me through it and lending a hand (literally) at times, and I'm confident that I could do it by myself if need be.
Granted, it would take much longer and involve much more struggling. That's fine. It's preferable to being afraid to take a long ride by myself, to feeling powerless, to hoping a friendly expert happens to be nearby in case of a flat.
With that done, I was ready to ride home — and the rain was ready to begin again. This was no light drizzle; it was a steady stream that, by the end, stung my forearms and clouded my vision.
Honestly? It was kind of fun, especially because home was at the end of a 1.5-mile-ish ride. (Much more fun than being 10 miles away.)
It also might've been excellent training for tomorrow's Bacoon Ride, if the forecasts are right.
But I did it anyway and am disproportionately proud of myself for it.
The light rain on my way to work wasn't much of a problem. I tossed everything that needed to stay dry into a clean cat-litter tub and congratulated myself on a first successful commute in the rain. (It's been a very lucky two months.)
The leak was a little bit more of an issue. It was slow enough that I knew I could pump the tire up right before leaving and arrive with plenty of pressure left.
After that, though, I'd need expert guidance on how to patch or replace the tube. Fortunately, my bike-mechanic boyfriend was only a block away.
It was the perfect opportunity for me to finally try doing it myself — we weren't on a trail with bugs swarming us, or in a hurry to get somewhere.
So after three years of owning a road bike, I did it, with Cory talking me through it and lending a hand (literally) at times, and I'm confident that I could do it by myself if need be.
Granted, it would take much longer and involve much more struggling. That's fine. It's preferable to being afraid to take a long ride by myself, to feeling powerless, to hoping a friendly expert happens to be nearby in case of a flat.
With that done, I was ready to ride home — and the rain was ready to begin again. This was no light drizzle; it was a steady stream that, by the end, stung my forearms and clouded my vision.
Honestly? It was kind of fun, especially because home was at the end of a 1.5-mile-ish ride. (Much more fun than being 10 miles away.)
It also might've been excellent training for tomorrow's Bacoon Ride, if the forecasts are right.
Friday, June 13, 2014
RAGBRAI training report, two weeks in
As I mentioned last week, RAGBRAI crept up on me while I was fretting about Dam to Dam.
So I'm happy to declare today that I feel positive about the state of my seat, about two weeks into training.
I did download the training plan; I do look at it; I do write down my mileage; and I have compared my weekly totals to what the plan suggests. Key word — suggests.
Here's my approach so far:
* Go on a long ride each week.
* Get a ride in the day after that, if possible.
* Incorporate a hill in most recreational rides.
* Design loops to avoid trail fatigue.
* Ride to places far away at which you need just one, portable thing. (Examples thus far: produce from a quarter-share in a CSA from a Johnston apartment complex; medicine from a pharmacy at 100th and Douglas in Urbandale.)
* Invite people to join at least portions of the rides.
It's only two weeks in, but I feel comfortable with this attitude, and I feel comfortable in my fitness level. It's not perfect, but it's good enough, and it'll get better.
What's helpful is having done RAGBRAI last year, and with the same people I'm doing it with this year — I know their tendencies, and this time I'll know how to balance my own with theirs.
Basically that means ride my pace, rather than struggle to keep up, because I don't like prolonged stops anyways. Let them get their first beer out of the way before I hop off the saddle.
Our long ride on Sunday — 75 flat miles — was critical to both realizing I'm on the right track, fitnesswise, and to reminding me of my riding preferences versus others'.
The next test: not falling off the wagon over the next two weeks, which are fairly busy with nonbiking commitments.
So I'm happy to declare today that I feel positive about the state of my seat, about two weeks into training.
I did download the training plan; I do look at it; I do write down my mileage; and I have compared my weekly totals to what the plan suggests. Key word — suggests.
Here's my approach so far:
* Go on a long ride each week.
* Get a ride in the day after that, if possible.
* Incorporate a hill in most recreational rides.
* Design loops to avoid trail fatigue.
* Ride to places far away at which you need just one, portable thing. (Examples thus far: produce from a quarter-share in a CSA from a Johnston apartment complex; medicine from a pharmacy at 100th and Douglas in Urbandale.)
* Invite people to join at least portions of the rides.
It's only two weeks in, but I feel comfortable with this attitude, and I feel comfortable in my fitness level. It's not perfect, but it's good enough, and it'll get better.
What's helpful is having done RAGBRAI last year, and with the same people I'm doing it with this year — I know their tendencies, and this time I'll know how to balance my own with theirs.
Basically that means ride my pace, rather than struggle to keep up, because I don't like prolonged stops anyways. Let them get their first beer out of the way before I hop off the saddle.
Our long ride on Sunday — 75 flat miles — was critical to both realizing I'm on the right track, fitnesswise, and to reminding me of my riding preferences versus others'.
The next test: not falling off the wagon over the next two weeks, which are fairly busy with nonbiking commitments.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Reasons to be excited about running again ... later
Every time we've seen a runner since Dam to Dam, Cory and I have said to each other "don't they know running is over now?" and thoroughly enjoyed it.
I have no urge to go on a run right now. (Nor do I have the ability, judging from my failed attempts to hurry while crossing the street.)
Yet I find myself thinking idly about what race to do next. That urge hasn't translated into actual Googling action, but it's slightly more active than dormant.
That's good, because two friends who aren't serious runners have expressed interest in future events:
* Annah, who did the St. Patrick's run, said she and her boyfriend had just been wondering what their next race should be, in response to my post-Dam text of "let's do 5Ks and 10Ks ... in the fall."
* And Chelsea, a fellow Warrior Dasher, sent me a text, seemingly out of nowhere, proposing a ladies' agreement. She wanted a favor from me in exchange for her doing a 5K of my choice.
(The favor involves a good surprise for a friend, so I'm being purposefully vague.)
Chelsea and her hubby own and love pets, so naturally I'm going to call her in for the Woofin' It 5K. The backup plan, if that doesn't work, would be the Boone County Museum 5K History Run/Walk.
Just give me a few weeks to let the bad memories fade, folks, and I'll be sending you links to local races like it's going out of style.
I have no urge to go on a run right now. (Nor do I have the ability, judging from my failed attempts to hurry while crossing the street.)
Yet I find myself thinking idly about what race to do next. That urge hasn't translated into actual Googling action, but it's slightly more active than dormant.
That's good, because two friends who aren't serious runners have expressed interest in future events:
* Annah, who did the St. Patrick's run, said she and her boyfriend had just been wondering what their next race should be, in response to my post-Dam text of "let's do 5Ks and 10Ks ... in the fall."
* And Chelsea, a fellow Warrior Dasher, sent me a text, seemingly out of nowhere, proposing a ladies' agreement. She wanted a favor from me in exchange for her doing a 5K of my choice.
(The favor involves a good surprise for a friend, so I'm being purposefully vague.)
Chelsea and her hubby own and love pets, so naturally I'm going to call her in for the Woofin' It 5K. The backup plan, if that doesn't work, would be the Boone County Museum 5K History Run/Walk.
Just give me a few weeks to let the bad memories fade, folks, and I'll be sending you links to local races like it's going out of style.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Looking ahead to race day
It's Dam to Dam Eve! I've planned my meals, checked the weather, washed all my running gear so I can pick the "luckiest" items, not the cleanest, and drafted a set of goals.
Picture this list as an inverted old-fashioned food pyramid, with the first items being the base (things I can and must do) and the final ones being the top (not critical for survival).
1. Be happy for other runners.
Cory is running with me, of course, and will likely beat me despite training less; our friend Chris, a natural athlete and known speed demon, will be there, too; and another friend, Anne — a wife, mother and full-time employee — is doing her first half marathon ever.
No matter my race outcome, these folks deserve wholehearted congrats when I see them afterwards.
2. Don't melt down, physically and mentally.
The weather doesn't look fantastic, but it doesn't look terrible, and the route is supposed to be fairly forgiving.
Even if it's not my day, I should be able to keep plodding away — and I'm going to have to, because 13.1 miles is too long to do the start-swear-stop routine when I have other places to be later in the day.
Plus, it's my last run for a month. If that doesn't get me to the end faster, I'm not sure what else will.
3. Record my second-best half marathon time.
There's a HUGE gap between my current and past PRs — almost eight minutes, in fact. Though I may not feel like I'm at the top of my running game right now, I'm certainly in shape enough to beat 2:08:32, set on a hillier course in D.C.-area humidity.
4. Finish in 2:05:00.
That's a 9:32 pace. Seems reasonable in this situation, given that I did train. I'm running by feel, so whether I achieve this might depend on what kind of pace groups are nearby.
5. Finish in 1:59:59 or less.
Can I keep a 9:09 average? We'll find out Saturday.
Picture this list as an inverted old-fashioned food pyramid, with the first items being the base (things I can and must do) and the final ones being the top (not critical for survival).
1. Be happy for other runners.
Cory is running with me, of course, and will likely beat me despite training less; our friend Chris, a natural athlete and known speed demon, will be there, too; and another friend, Anne — a wife, mother and full-time employee — is doing her first half marathon ever.
No matter my race outcome, these folks deserve wholehearted congrats when I see them afterwards.
2. Don't melt down, physically and mentally.
The weather doesn't look fantastic, but it doesn't look terrible, and the route is supposed to be fairly forgiving.
Even if it's not my day, I should be able to keep plodding away — and I'm going to have to, because 13.1 miles is too long to do the start-swear-stop routine when I have other places to be later in the day.
Plus, it's my last run for a month. If that doesn't get me to the end faster, I'm not sure what else will.
3. Record my second-best half marathon time.
There's a HUGE gap between my current and past PRs — almost eight minutes, in fact. Though I may not feel like I'm at the top of my running game right now, I'm certainly in shape enough to beat 2:08:32, set on a hillier course in D.C.-area humidity.
4. Finish in 2:05:00.
That's a 9:32 pace. Seems reasonable in this situation, given that I did train. I'm running by feel, so whether I achieve this might depend on what kind of pace groups are nearby.
5. Finish in 1:59:59 or less.
Can I keep a 9:09 average? We'll find out Saturday.
Friday, May 23, 2014
How runners do Iowa Nice
Yesterday I rode my bike to fetch my car from the mechanic's. It was a minor victory that turned into a major victory.
There were actually two minor — and I mean minor — wins:
1.) I decided to leave in the morning, when there were scattered light showers, instead of waiting for 1:15 p.m., when Weather.com told me the showers would end. It turns out that I am still not made of sugar, because I did not melt.
2.) Rather than tack on extra miles to avoid a hill, I took the more direct route and made it all the way to the top without stopping. Not without swearing, but without stopping.
Because my ride was cool and slightly rainy, I was rocking my fluorescent Des Moines Half Marathon zip-up jacket that morning.
When I returned home and parked, my neon top caught the eye of a repair guy who'd parked near me: "Hey, I have that same shirt! Did you run it, too?" he called to me.
And so, in what seems to be very typical Iowa fashion, we embarked on a five-minute conversation about local half marathons and our successes/failures in training for them.
I told him I'd run it last year but was on the fence about doing it this fall; that depended somewhat on how Dam to Dam went.
"Oh, I'm doing Dam to Dam too! The funny thing is, me and my wife, we're really just not looking forward to it. Not sure why. Maybe that horrible winter just got us down."
There's something so magical about when an outsider expresses the exact negative, possibly unpopular view you've been nursing for a few weeks.
I told him I could empathize, 100 percent, with him. He was relieved to hear he wasn't just being a big baby — another emotion I shared.
It was one of the most cheerful whine-fests I've had in a long time, and certainly a rare occasion on which I appreciated a strange man commenting on my clothes.
I may hate how the past few springs here have turned out, but I sure do love Iowa and Iowa Nice.
There were actually two minor — and I mean minor — wins:
1.) I decided to leave in the morning, when there were scattered light showers, instead of waiting for 1:15 p.m., when Weather.com told me the showers would end. It turns out that I am still not made of sugar, because I did not melt.
2.) Rather than tack on extra miles to avoid a hill, I took the more direct route and made it all the way to the top without stopping. Not without swearing, but without stopping.
Because my ride was cool and slightly rainy, I was rocking my fluorescent Des Moines Half Marathon zip-up jacket that morning.
When I returned home and parked, my neon top caught the eye of a repair guy who'd parked near me: "Hey, I have that same shirt! Did you run it, too?" he called to me.
And so, in what seems to be very typical Iowa fashion, we embarked on a five-minute conversation about local half marathons and our successes/failures in training for them.
I told him I'd run it last year but was on the fence about doing it this fall; that depended somewhat on how Dam to Dam went.
"Oh, I'm doing Dam to Dam too! The funny thing is, me and my wife, we're really just not looking forward to it. Not sure why. Maybe that horrible winter just got us down."
There's something so magical about when an outsider expresses the exact negative, possibly unpopular view you've been nursing for a few weeks.
I told him I could empathize, 100 percent, with him. He was relieved to hear he wasn't just being a big baby — another emotion I shared.
It was one of the most cheerful whine-fests I've had in a long time, and certainly a rare occasion on which I appreciated a strange man commenting on my clothes.
I may hate how the past few springs here have turned out, but I sure do love Iowa and Iowa Nice.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Race (?) report: Girls on the Run 5K
I experienced two personal firsts at the Girls on the Run 5K last Friday.
First, obviously, it was my inaugural time helping out with the program, and it is every bit as impressive —maybe even more impressive — than one might expect.
The party was in full swing when I arrived at Raccoon River Park: a DJ blasting tunes (appropriately, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"); face painting and glitter hairspray; and coordinated funky headbands and tall socks, at least in "my" school's case.
There were school and running chants, and the head coach of my friend's team ran a warmup drill of jumping jacks, tae bo moves, stars and clapping — and as silly as I'm sure I looked, I thought it was hilarious.
With all this and the lovely weather, it would've been hard not to catch the spirit of the event.
Enthusiasm during the actual run seemed fairly high, too. Of course there were a few strugglers, but their buddies and the spectators didn't let them sulk or fall behind too much.
It really was cool to see not just the girls' accomplishments, but also the amount of time and energy that the adults put into getting them there. Warm and fuzzy feelings all around!
Second, less obviously, it was my first brick. I toyed with the idea of driving to Raccoon River, either from work or from my apartment after I'd biked back from work, don't get me wrong.
The spirit of Bike Month ultimately won out — plus the realization that it really wouldn't take that much longer to bike versus drive, with the time spent getting to the garage and dealing with rush-hour traffic.
It wasn't really a brick, in the truest sense of the term, because at least a half-hour lapsed between my arrival and the start of the run. And the run was definitely an easy shuffle.
But hey, if the book club members were impressed that I rode eight miles to a 5K, then hopped back on to get to dinner, I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back. I did end up feeling it the next day, I think, so it counts as far as I'm concerned
First, obviously, it was my inaugural time helping out with the program, and it is every bit as impressive —maybe even more impressive — than one might expect.
The party was in full swing when I arrived at Raccoon River Park: a DJ blasting tunes (appropriately, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"); face painting and glitter hairspray; and coordinated funky headbands and tall socks, at least in "my" school's case.
There were school and running chants, and the head coach of my friend's team ran a warmup drill of jumping jacks, tae bo moves, stars and clapping — and as silly as I'm sure I looked, I thought it was hilarious.
With all this and the lovely weather, it would've been hard not to catch the spirit of the event.
Enthusiasm during the actual run seemed fairly high, too. Of course there were a few strugglers, but their buddies and the spectators didn't let them sulk or fall behind too much.
It really was cool to see not just the girls' accomplishments, but also the amount of time and energy that the adults put into getting them there. Warm and fuzzy feelings all around!
Second, less obviously, it was my first brick. I toyed with the idea of driving to Raccoon River, either from work or from my apartment after I'd biked back from work, don't get me wrong.
The spirit of Bike Month ultimately won out — plus the realization that it really wouldn't take that much longer to bike versus drive, with the time spent getting to the garage and dealing with rush-hour traffic.
It wasn't really a brick, in the truest sense of the term, because at least a half-hour lapsed between my arrival and the start of the run. And the run was definitely an easy shuffle.
But hey, if the book club members were impressed that I rode eight miles to a 5K, then hopped back on to get to dinner, I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back. I did end up feeling it the next day, I think, so it counts as far as I'm concerned
Friday, May 9, 2014
Upcoming race: Girls on the Run 5K
It turns out that this weekend is Noncompetitive Charity 5K Weekend for me.
Tomorrow is my beloved Woofin' It 5K, and tonight, as I learned just two days ago, is the local Girls on the Run chapter's 5K.
This came about through book club. Back in April, one member mentioned she'd been coaching Girls on the Run and might need a few adult runners to help out at the final event — she'd check with other leaders and let us know.
I never heard anything, so I assumed they had enough adults. Actually, they didn't, and that information didn't make its way to my book buddy until this past Wednesday.
Fortunately, my boss was able to adjust my work schedule just a little bit, so I could then make good on my weeks-ago offer to accompany a young runner.
My understanding is, all I need to do is encourage my buddy to keep running and not walk. Shouldn't be too hard, unless I'm matched with a future track star who leaves me in her dust.
I also intend to appreciate Raccoon River Park, where I haven't been since my epic 5K last fall, and which should be springlike enough to make me believe winter is over.
And it'll be a chance for me to participate in, as well as observe, the running community's incredible supportiveness.
As I was either biking or running recently — I can't remember which — I found myself thinking about my experiences as a relative n00b in both areas.
Bicyclists seem happy to share their sport, but something about runners has always put me more at ease, regardless of my skill and knowledge gap.
Maybe it's that most of us agree running is harder, so runners have to go the extra mile (ha!) to welcome newcomers.
Or maybe it's because one's body is easier to understand than one's bicycle, if you're not mechanically inclined. And it could also be that I entered running with so little knowledge that being clueless wasn't embarrassing — it was expected.
Regardless: I'll be paying the Rockford, Ill., running crew's good deeds from 2009 to present forward tonight.
Tomorrow is my beloved Woofin' It 5K, and tonight, as I learned just two days ago, is the local Girls on the Run chapter's 5K.
This came about through book club. Back in April, one member mentioned she'd been coaching Girls on the Run and might need a few adult runners to help out at the final event — she'd check with other leaders and let us know.
I never heard anything, so I assumed they had enough adults. Actually, they didn't, and that information didn't make its way to my book buddy until this past Wednesday.
Fortunately, my boss was able to adjust my work schedule just a little bit, so I could then make good on my weeks-ago offer to accompany a young runner.
My understanding is, all I need to do is encourage my buddy to keep running and not walk. Shouldn't be too hard, unless I'm matched with a future track star who leaves me in her dust.
I also intend to appreciate Raccoon River Park, where I haven't been since my epic 5K last fall, and which should be springlike enough to make me believe winter is over.
And it'll be a chance for me to participate in, as well as observe, the running community's incredible supportiveness.
As I was either biking or running recently — I can't remember which — I found myself thinking about my experiences as a relative n00b in both areas.
Bicyclists seem happy to share their sport, but something about runners has always put me more at ease, regardless of my skill and knowledge gap.
Maybe it's that most of us agree running is harder, so runners have to go the extra mile (ha!) to welcome newcomers.
Or maybe it's because one's body is easier to understand than one's bicycle, if you're not mechanically inclined. And it could also be that I entered running with so little knowledge that being clueless wasn't embarrassing — it was expected.
Regardless: I'll be paying the Rockford, Ill., running crew's good deeds from 2009 to present forward tonight.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
I was nominated for a Liebster Award!
Just as I felt myself fall into a blogging slump, Karla nominated me for a Liebster Award!
It's not an award in the traditional sense — more like a chain survey to help introduce you to other blogs — but I'm happy to accept, especially when inspiration is running dry.
The rules are:
1. Why did you start running?
It's actually a very underwhelming and boring story.
Basically I went on a walk one day and wondered how long/how far I could run. Despite how little I could do and yet how sore I was the next day, I decided to try again, and then to keep going.
2. What’s your favorite distance to race or to run in workouts?
For racing, it's the half marathon. I enjoy the discipline of a training schedule — and I definitely have to train for a half marathon — and the sense of achievement when I actually finish it.
For workouts, I'd probably say four- or five-milers. Long enough to feel like I've done something, but not so long that I have to plan my whole day around it or that I'm wiped out afterwards.
3. What’s your biggest running goal right now?
Right now, it's to go sub-2:00:00 in a half marathon, because I'm running one at the end of May. Breaking my 5K personal record (24:09) is also on my radar, but not until this fall.
4. What’s your power song?
"Livin' On A Prayer." I listen to it before races, and whenever I hit the midway point of a run, I sing "Whoa, we're halfway there!" in my head ... or out loud to my running buddy.
But when I drive to races, I make sure "TiK ToK" plays before I get out of the car.
5. What mantra works for you when you’re pushing hard?
"You got this," if things are going OK; "just another [distance or time]," if it's a real struggle.
6. Who’s your running hero?
I don't really have one, but I will say that the Runner's World feature about the little people who nearly finished the Boston Marathon in 2013 was one of the best articles I've read in a long time. Running as a normal-sized person poses its own challenges, but add in the obstacles posed by dwarfism ...
7. What achievement are you most proud of?
Running-related: my current 5K PR. Never saw that coming, but I executed my race plan perfectly.
Non-running-related: I wrote two books about my family history (one for Mom's side, one for Dad's side). Many of the relatives interviewed have since passed away, so I'm profoundly grateful for what we've managed to preserve.
8. What’s your favorite vacation spot?
I'm going to do all sorts of dances around this question.
For places that I can visit often and that I find relaxing — I love just hopping over to Iowa City. It takes less than two hours to get there, and some very good college friends live there with three adorable pets.
For places that I can't visit often and that I find exhilarating (but definitely not relaxing) — I'm still buzzing from my trip to Italy. The French Alps, where I spent a month in college, were also fantastic.
9. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not running?
Reading. Books, newspapers, magazines, blogs ... especially food blogs. Because I also really love thinking about, discussing, making and eating food.
10. Dogs or cats?
Cats! I like both and grew up with both, but I "get" cats better. (And have an easier time taking care of them.)
Dear nominees: If you've already been nominated before or don't want to accept, that's totally OK. You are:
Pam, at Mada(M)useo
Stephanie, at Adventures in Picky Stomachs
Martha, at Miles and Motherhood
Dimity and Sarah, at another mother runner
Brian, at Pavement Runner
Mike, at Running Is Funny
Doug, at irunnerbuzz
Calee, at life+running
Abbey, at imrunnerchica.com
Katie, at run this amazing day
And my questions are:
It's not an award in the traditional sense — more like a chain survey to help introduce you to other blogs — but I'm happy to accept, especially when inspiration is running dry.
The rules are:
- You must link back to the person who nominated you.
- You must answer the 10 Liebster questions given to you by the nominee before you.
- You must pick 10 bloggers to be nominated for the award.
- You must create 10 questions for your nominees.
- You must go to their blogs and notify the nominees.
1. Why did you start running?
It's actually a very underwhelming and boring story.
Basically I went on a walk one day and wondered how long/how far I could run. Despite how little I could do and yet how sore I was the next day, I decided to try again, and then to keep going.
2. What’s your favorite distance to race or to run in workouts?
For racing, it's the half marathon. I enjoy the discipline of a training schedule — and I definitely have to train for a half marathon — and the sense of achievement when I actually finish it.
For workouts, I'd probably say four- or five-milers. Long enough to feel like I've done something, but not so long that I have to plan my whole day around it or that I'm wiped out afterwards.
3. What’s your biggest running goal right now?
Right now, it's to go sub-2:00:00 in a half marathon, because I'm running one at the end of May. Breaking my 5K personal record (24:09) is also on my radar, but not until this fall.
4. What’s your power song?
"Livin' On A Prayer." I listen to it before races, and whenever I hit the midway point of a run, I sing "Whoa, we're halfway there!" in my head ... or out loud to my running buddy.
But when I drive to races, I make sure "TiK ToK" plays before I get out of the car.
5. What mantra works for you when you’re pushing hard?
"You got this," if things are going OK; "just another [distance or time]," if it's a real struggle.
6. Who’s your running hero?
I don't really have one, but I will say that the Runner's World feature about the little people who nearly finished the Boston Marathon in 2013 was one of the best articles I've read in a long time. Running as a normal-sized person poses its own challenges, but add in the obstacles posed by dwarfism ...
7. What achievement are you most proud of?
Running-related: my current 5K PR. Never saw that coming, but I executed my race plan perfectly.
Non-running-related: I wrote two books about my family history (one for Mom's side, one for Dad's side). Many of the relatives interviewed have since passed away, so I'm profoundly grateful for what we've managed to preserve.
8. What’s your favorite vacation spot?
I'm going to do all sorts of dances around this question.
For places that I can visit often and that I find relaxing — I love just hopping over to Iowa City. It takes less than two hours to get there, and some very good college friends live there with three adorable pets.
For places that I can't visit often and that I find exhilarating (but definitely not relaxing) — I'm still buzzing from my trip to Italy. The French Alps, where I spent a month in college, were also fantastic.
 |
| Florence, as seen from Piazzale Michelangelo. What a stunning city. |
Reading. Books, newspapers, magazines, blogs ... especially food blogs. Because I also really love thinking about, discussing, making and eating food.
10. Dogs or cats?
Cats! I like both and grew up with both, but I "get" cats better. (And have an easier time taking care of them.)
 |
| Oh look, an excuse to post cat pictures! These are my boys: Ringo on the left, Dusty on the right. |
Pam, at Mada(M)useo
Stephanie, at Adventures in Picky Stomachs
Martha, at Miles and Motherhood
Dimity and Sarah, at another mother runner
Brian, at Pavement Runner
Mike, at Running Is Funny
Doug, at irunnerbuzz
Calee, at life+running
Abbey, at imrunnerchica.com
Katie, at run this amazing day
And my questions are:
- What place would you submit to Runner's World's "rave run" feature?
- What race would you tell others to put on their bucket list?
- What's your worst race experience?
- What food is a must-avoid leading up to a run?
- What's the weirdest thing you've seen on a run?
- Do you have any special pre-race rituals?
- What foods/drinks do you crave during or after a run?
- How do you pamper yourself after a tough workout or race?
- Who would play you in a movie?
- What was the first concert you ever attended?
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Race report: Grand Blue Mile
When I take time off from running, especially during the winter, I have concurrent and conflicting emotions about running.
One part of me never wants to lace up the shoes and feel the burn again. The other part of me becomes wildly optimistic, often just at the thought of mild weather and living plants, and wants to sign up for anything and everything.
My Grand Blue Mile registration was born of that latter urge, and I spent the time between getting off of work and toeing the starting line regretting it with every alternate breath.
In between, I reminded myself that as miserable as I was during the Friendly Sons 5K, this had to be better — it was only one-third the distance.
 |
| These faces do not accurately reflect our pre-race sentiments, though we did agree that it was a perfect day to run. |
Cory and his friend Drew weren't particularly sanguine, nor was Stephanie from book club, who ran with me in the competitive women's division. Only veteran athlete Steve, whom we'd only just met a few days ago at the Cumming Tap, seemed to be glad to be here.
My plan was to stay in back to give myself more time to warm up before actually crossing the line; instead, the race organizers corralled the 15 or so of us — seriously! — to the very front, and it was only a few steps before I was sprinting like my life depended on it.
Here's where my biggest victory of the day occurred. In the first quarter-mile, I got passed constantly, despite pushing myself as hard as the speedsters were. The pack in front of me grew so crowded that I started wondering whether I'd be the last to finish.
Suddenly I understood why people worry about that — there were a lot of spectators, and they'd be sticking around to watch the races right after mine. Everyone would see me come in last. Was anyone even behind me? Should I even bother suffering for another three-fourths of a mile?
But no. I didn't pay the registration fee and tell people that I was running it just to give up so early. There was no injury or true pain holding me back. I kept plugging away ... and even started passing a few people, some of whom sounded/looked far more miserable than me.
My second-biggest victory of the day: It was such a short race that I didn't bother wearing contacts or glasses, meaning the finish line was just one giant blue blob. I couldn't even let up at the end if I had wanted to, because I wasn't entirely sure where the end was. (See my game face here.)
But I could read the numbers as I crossed — 6:58.
But I could read the numbers as I crossed — 6:58.
 |
| The mats signal the end. I'm not *quite* there. |
I was shocked to see that number, even more shocked to see the printout with "6:11" and then unsurprised to see this morning that I was knocked down to "7:11.88."
I shrugged it off most of the day, because they're ALL personal records by at least 21 seconds, but I'll admit to much relief when at 5:20 p.m., Cory emailed me to say the database had changed. Official time: 6:57.64, ninth in my division.
For such a short race, I've blathered on a long time, so I'll just end it with this: I'm proud of the results, especially given what little training went into it, and I am even more happy and grateful that I had a cheering section. Thanks, Steph, Regina and Emily, for coming out, watching and photographing!
Monday, March 31, 2014
Race report: Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K
Did you bet on a victory from me at the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K? I hope not, because I came up short on every goal.
That's not to say I didn't even manage to have fun — before and after the race, I did enjoy myself. (And during the race, when a tiny dog who lived on the race route totally bandited it, I grinned.) So let's focus on that.
It was Annah's first 5K ever, though funnily enough she's done a half marathon, and it went great for her.
All of the advice she sought from me over the weekend was either right or not-wrong, because she ran the whole way and finished in about 42 minutes, much faster than her goal/prediction of 45:00.
I spotted her during the out-and-back course, as well as Cory and book clubber Stephanie, and she looked strong. She still looked good as she crossed the finish line — less smiley than in our pre-race selfie, but much more determined:
Three friends who had planned to run actually weren't able to, but they showed up in surprise support.
Pam and Marco fought through a flu bug to cheer on Annah (Cory and I had finished by the time they arrived), and Joel woke up obscenely early to drive back from a college-friend reunion weeked in Columbia, Mo., in time for Annah's big finish.
As we stood around enjoying the free beer afterwards, we happened to notice that 5K times had already been posted, so we meandered over to see what we'd officially done.
"What's that one next to my name mean?" Cory asked when we found his time. It means a trophy for finishing first in your age group, you speed demon! (23:14, and that includes the amount of time it took to get to the official start.)
Annah rocked, Cory rocked, and Stephanie rocked, coming in just behind Cory. What about me?
I finished in 26:22, walking probably six times and finishing almost a minute off my last year's time (not to mention how far away from my PR I was). There's nothing I can blame it on but myself, not weather or terrain or training-plan gaps: I was just incredibly mentally weak.
I could analyze it and point out the positives in my splits, and of course I did those things over post-race food and beer.
But it's long over now, and I'd rather remember my genuine happiness for those who did well, the sunshine and support at the afterparty, and the summery weather we kept soaking up on our post-race bike ride.
That's not to say I didn't even manage to have fun — before and after the race, I did enjoy myself. (And during the race, when a tiny dog who lived on the race route totally bandited it, I grinned.) So let's focus on that.
It was Annah's first 5K ever, though funnily enough she's done a half marathon, and it went great for her.
All of the advice she sought from me over the weekend was either right or not-wrong, because she ran the whole way and finished in about 42 minutes, much faster than her goal/prediction of 45:00.
I spotted her during the out-and-back course, as well as Cory and book clubber Stephanie, and she looked strong. She still looked good as she crossed the finish line — less smiley than in our pre-race selfie, but much more determined:
 |
Pam and Marco fought through a flu bug to cheer on Annah (Cory and I had finished by the time they arrived), and Joel woke up obscenely early to drive back from a college-friend reunion weeked in Columbia, Mo., in time for Annah's big finish.
As we stood around enjoying the free beer afterwards, we happened to notice that 5K times had already been posted, so we meandered over to see what we'd officially done.
"What's that one next to my name mean?" Cory asked when we found his time. It means a trophy for finishing first in your age group, you speed demon! (23:14, and that includes the amount of time it took to get to the official start.)
 |
| Race trophy and trophy girlfriend. Cory had a good Sunday. |
I finished in 26:22, walking probably six times and finishing almost a minute off my last year's time (not to mention how far away from my PR I was). There's nothing I can blame it on but myself, not weather or terrain or training-plan gaps: I was just incredibly mentally weak.
I could analyze it and point out the positives in my splits, and of course I did those things over post-race food and beer.
But it's long over now, and I'd rather remember my genuine happiness for those who did well, the sunshine and support at the afterparty, and the summery weather we kept soaking up on our post-race bike ride.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Scoping out the competition
It's been quite some time since Cory and I ran together — months, possibly — so I was very interested to see how well he was moving at last Sunday's run date.
After all, we've been trash-talking about who's going to win this weekend's 5K since probably the last time we ran a competitive race together.
The good news is, I now know another way to sabotage his race experience, in addition to having him run an extremely fast mile at a race the day before, then filling him up with beer: Push a huge, rich breakfast on him.
The bad news: Huge, rich breakfasts also don't do me any favors, and he got to see that Sunday. So it'll be hard to trick him into having one while I stick with something safer.
Based on our four-miler, I think it'll be a fair matchup. Though my training hasn't gone like I'd hoped, I've seen how friendly competition and pleasant weather can pull me out of a slump.
I don't have to break my personal record, set during half-marathon training in perfect conditions — I just have to keep ahead of Cory.
(Also, not that I'm superstitious, but I *did* just lay out my luckiest gear for race day.)
Cory, meanwhile, has the edge on natural athletic ability and, given that he commutes from downtown Des Moines to Johnston every day on a bike, overall fitness.
The first 1.5 miles of that run were hilly and he hadn't found his stride, but he never held me back, nor did he make us stop to walk.
Last year's race was on roads, not a trail like the Remembrance Run, so assuming that hasn't changed, spotting each other should be easier.
I'm not sure whether that will benefit or bother me; not knowing how close Cory was kept me pushing hard last fall, but if his neon-yellow sneakers taunt me from well into the distance, I might get discouraged and back off instead of waiting for any signs of weakness.
Check back Monday to see who triumphed! "Only" pride is on the line.
After all, we've been trash-talking about who's going to win this weekend's 5K since probably the last time we ran a competitive race together.
The good news is, I now know another way to sabotage his race experience, in addition to having him run an extremely fast mile at a race the day before, then filling him up with beer: Push a huge, rich breakfast on him.
The bad news: Huge, rich breakfasts also don't do me any favors, and he got to see that Sunday. So it'll be hard to trick him into having one while I stick with something safer.
Based on our four-miler, I think it'll be a fair matchup. Though my training hasn't gone like I'd hoped, I've seen how friendly competition and pleasant weather can pull me out of a slump.
I don't have to break my personal record, set during half-marathon training in perfect conditions — I just have to keep ahead of Cory.
(Also, not that I'm superstitious, but I *did* just lay out my luckiest gear for race day.)
Cory, meanwhile, has the edge on natural athletic ability and, given that he commutes from downtown Des Moines to Johnston every day on a bike, overall fitness.
The first 1.5 miles of that run were hilly and he hadn't found his stride, but he never held me back, nor did he make us stop to walk.
Last year's race was on roads, not a trail like the Remembrance Run, so assuming that hasn't changed, spotting each other should be easier.
I'm not sure whether that will benefit or bother me; not knowing how close Cory was kept me pushing hard last fall, but if his neon-yellow sneakers taunt me from well into the distance, I might get discouraged and back off instead of waiting for any signs of weakness.
Check back Monday to see who triumphed! "Only" pride is on the line.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
It *is* just like riding a bike
I went on my first bike ride of 2014 on Monday, and appropriately enough, given that it was St. Patrick's Day, it was a little bit of an adventure.
Mostly it was a cinch, making the inspiration for the cliche obvious. And when it wasn't ... as Regina pointed out, maybe I was just getting my snafus out of the way early on.
For instance, I was nervous about using a bike lane for the first few miles of my first ride of the season. Fortunately, traffic was fairly light and didn't scare me onto the trails forever.
But while on a trail, I got too distracted by a huge chunk of glass in an intersection with the road and forgot to watch turning traffic. The car that I headed obliviously toward was going slowly enough — or cautiously enough — that we had more of an awkward standoff than a close call, thankfully.
Maybe it just served to startle me straight, so that hours later, I was fully expecting a pickup truck to completely blow a red light and just waited on my side of the intersection.
During the stop-and-start portion of the ride, I was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly I was able to slide my feet in and out of the pedal cages. Normally it seems to take a few weeks before I pick that skill back up.
One thing I didn't count on, though, was how the still-early-spring temperatures would affect my toes. I wound up falling into a crosswalk light post because my slightly numb feet couldn't catch the ground fast enough.
It turns out I still have some strength, because I didn't whine too much about the small hills we encountered, the time flew, and I barely noticed any soreness the next day.
What I don't have, though, is the proper equipment for riding at night anymore. My taillight was sacrificed to RAGBRAI, and the miner's headlamp I wear around my waist could use help lighting the way in front of me, too.
All in all, it was a great way to celebrate safely and break the ice on getting back into biking.
Mostly it was a cinch, making the inspiration for the cliche obvious. And when it wasn't ... as Regina pointed out, maybe I was just getting my snafus out of the way early on.
For instance, I was nervous about using a bike lane for the first few miles of my first ride of the season. Fortunately, traffic was fairly light and didn't scare me onto the trails forever.
But while on a trail, I got too distracted by a huge chunk of glass in an intersection with the road and forgot to watch turning traffic. The car that I headed obliviously toward was going slowly enough — or cautiously enough — that we had more of an awkward standoff than a close call, thankfully.
Maybe it just served to startle me straight, so that hours later, I was fully expecting a pickup truck to completely blow a red light and just waited on my side of the intersection.
 |
| Sharing the road on St. Patrick's Day might not have been the best idea, in retrospect. But it saved us about three or four miles on the return. |
One thing I didn't count on, though, was how the still-early-spring temperatures would affect my toes. I wound up falling into a crosswalk light post because my slightly numb feet couldn't catch the ground fast enough.
It turns out I still have some strength, because I didn't whine too much about the small hills we encountered, the time flew, and I barely noticed any soreness the next day.
What I don't have, though, is the proper equipment for riding at night anymore. My taillight was sacrificed to RAGBRAI, and the miner's headlamp I wear around my waist could use help lighting the way in front of me, too.
All in all, it was a great way to celebrate safely and break the ice on getting back into biking.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Magical Monday
Like everyone else in the Midwest, I took so much heart from the conditions on Monday.
There was, of course, the sheer relief that the polar vortex isn't a permanent fixture.
And the luxuriating in how good sun and 68 degrees felt on my my skin as Regina and I ran in T-shirts and shorts/capris. (I actually came close to too-warm. When was the last time that happened?)
As we looped Gray's Lake, the effort seemed minimal and the pace surprisingly fast. We chatted without struggle, always coming back to "but seriously, is today real?" because of just how demoralizing the endless stretches of deep cold had been for everyone.
"Pretty much you were the only one who didn't just give up on running," Regina observed.
Wait, what? "Oh, I definitely was miserable."
"Yeah, but you still got out there."
It was something I've told myself periodically all winter (along with variations on that theme). Unsurprisingly, though, it actually sinks in when people like Regina or Karla say it — they've been on the same strugglebus.
I hope I attain several of my 5K goals beyond "have fun." But if that's the only one I manage, I hope I remember and believe what fellow runners have said.
There was, of course, the sheer relief that the polar vortex isn't a permanent fixture.
And the luxuriating in how good sun and 68 degrees felt on my my skin as Regina and I ran in T-shirts and shorts/capris. (I actually came close to too-warm. When was the last time that happened?)
As we looped Gray's Lake, the effort seemed minimal and the pace surprisingly fast. We chatted without struggle, always coming back to "but seriously, is today real?" because of just how demoralizing the endless stretches of deep cold had been for everyone.
"Pretty much you were the only one who didn't just give up on running," Regina observed.
Wait, what? "Oh, I definitely was miserable."
"Yeah, but you still got out there."
It was something I've told myself periodically all winter (along with variations on that theme). Unsurprisingly, though, it actually sinks in when people like Regina or Karla say it — they've been on the same strugglebus.
I hope I attain several of my 5K goals beyond "have fun." But if that's the only one I manage, I hope I remember and believe what fellow runners have said.
Monday, March 10, 2014
The spectrum of race-day goals has been established
We're three weeks out from the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick Day 5K, and having done a sort-of trial run for it recently, I've been able to draft some goals for it.
They are, in descending order of probability:
* Have fun. Spring could very well stick around until then, so what's not to like about running on a nice day with friends and beer?
And if the weather stinks, well, at least there will be a group of other people ready to grouse about it with me over beer. It'll be the Drake Relays half all over again!
* Resist the temptation to walk, even if -- especially if -- no other goals look plausible. If race day just isn't my day, then at the very least I can point to this minor victory. And if race day is my day, then nothing further down the list will happen.
Furthermore, while I can recite reasons why I'm not at peak physical shape until I'm blue in the face, I shouldn't have excuses for not being mentally strong: Sure, the winter made running outdoors tough, but I managed to actually get out there.
* Break 25:30. That's about how fast I did this race last year, and it's how fast I did the recent speedy three-miler. Race-day adrenaline should help me knock out that extra 0.1 without extra time.
* Beat my gentleman friend again. He has overall fitness and natural aptitude on his side. I have more consistent and speed-specific running on mine. Which will win? Let the smack talk continue.
* Set a PR (i.e., 24:08 and faster). I'd definitely "settle" for breaking a PR by mere seconds, with it being so early in the year and such a tough winter. Especially if this is a gun-time-only race like last year.
* Sub-24:00. I highly doubt this will happen, but a girl can hope and strive, right?
They are, in descending order of probability:
* Have fun. Spring could very well stick around until then, so what's not to like about running on a nice day with friends and beer?
And if the weather stinks, well, at least there will be a group of other people ready to grouse about it with me over beer. It'll be the Drake Relays half all over again!
* Resist the temptation to walk, even if -- especially if -- no other goals look plausible. If race day just isn't my day, then at the very least I can point to this minor victory. And if race day is my day, then nothing further down the list will happen.
Furthermore, while I can recite reasons why I'm not at peak physical shape until I'm blue in the face, I shouldn't have excuses for not being mentally strong: Sure, the winter made running outdoors tough, but I managed to actually get out there.
* Break 25:30. That's about how fast I did this race last year, and it's how fast I did the recent speedy three-miler. Race-day adrenaline should help me knock out that extra 0.1 without extra time.
* Beat my gentleman friend again. He has overall fitness and natural aptitude on his side. I have more consistent and speed-specific running on mine. Which will win? Let the smack talk continue.
* Set a PR (i.e., 24:08 and faster). I'd definitely "settle" for breaking a PR by mere seconds, with it being so early in the year and such a tough winter. Especially if this is a gun-time-only race like last year.
* Sub-24:00. I highly doubt this will happen, but a girl can hope and strive, right?
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