My plan for returning to running

I haven't run in almost three weeks, but I have at least been thinking about it.

Specifically, I've taken time to be my own sports psychiatrist, and I've diagnosed myself as needing to ease back into running and learn to like it again.

So here's what I've come up with.

July 1: Open my mind back up to running. Twice a week at most. With only the expectation that it won't be easy or fast.

July 27-Aug. 3: Relax and rest up after RAGBRAI.

Aug. 4: Start a 10K training plan.

Last year, I started training for a half marathon at the beginning of August, right after I'd done RAGBRAI, and it worked out great. This year, the thought of doing that makes me tired and overheated.

As my hairdresser said when I told her I'd most likely skip the 2014 Des Moines Half Marathon: "Yeah, you wanna have fun during the summer."

Yes, I do. I like having something on the horizon, but the local long races are just too close to the dog days of August and two months of intensive biking.

A 10K seemed better-suited to the conditions. Plus, I've never done a road 10K race — only a nighttime trail one — so it'll be interesting to see what I can do.

Sept. 8: Do the Maffitt Lake five-mile. This should be the right combination of fun and challenging — i.e., exactly the kind of carrot/motivation I need.

Fun, because off-road running is scenic and lets me lower my expectations for myself without feeling like I'm a wimp, and challenging, because Living History Farms is the only off-road running I've done since moving to Des Moines.

Sept. 20 or 21: Do a 10K. Preferably the one on a Sunday, if I can find sign-up info and not just a date on the local sports store's race calendar.

Sept. 28: Do the Brew Mile. I again won't have time to do much mile-specific training, but I'll have more residual strength than I did before the Grand Blue Mile.

I'll have the power of the crowds pulling me along, and because I work Saturdays, I'll have the advantage of sobriety over the participants who have already hit up Oktoberfest.

Oct. 11: Do the Boone County 5K History Walk/Run. I'd better start thinking about a clever costume that also allows for good movement, because this time of year is much better for running.

If my schedule and motivation level allow, I might look for a serious 5K in hopes of breaking my PR, but I'm not going to stress about it. I'd rather be a little lazy the rest of this year than risk ruining my hobby for myself.

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.

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!

I race tonight; here are my goals

One week ago today, I returned to Des Moines from my overseas adventure and realized that, oh crap, I was running a mile race in seven days and a half marathon in seven weeks.

And it was with some trepidation that I set out on my first run since the March 30 5K last Wednesday — how much fitness had I lost, and how much of a waste of registration would today's Grand Blue Mile be?

We can look at the result of that run and the subsequent mile test (7:41) in two ways: Either I didn't lose as much fitness as I thought, hooray!; or I didn't have any real fitness to lose, boo.

I've clocked that pace during successful 5Ks, and I finished a test mile in 7:33 before rolling out to Italy, though, so I think it's fair and accurate to interpret 7:41 as not having lost much fitness.

So tonight, I know I can go sub-8:00; I expect to do around 7:45, give or take a few seconds; and I hope I can do around 7:30.

If I break 7:30 this year without training specifically at all, well, first round of beer at the post-race gathering is on me.

And maybe then this fall at the Brew Mile or next spring at the Grand Blue Mile, after making time for race-specific training, I can shatter the automatic personal record I set tonight.

Second installment of 2014's quarterly goals

I had mixed success with my first-quarter goals, but maybe spring will bring a more nurturing environment for what I hope to accomplish over the next three months.

1. Regain mental strength. I know I can think positive rather than negative. I just need to dust off the tools I've used before and maybe retain some of the endless articles on the powers of positive thinking that I read.

2. Break 2:00:00 in a half marathon and 7:30 in a mile. I wrote about these earlier this year, and they remain valid. The testing grounds will be the Grand Blue Mile, or any training for it, and Dam to Dam.

3. Take more short trips on foot or bike. I live so close to bike lanes that once the snow is gone, I have no excuse for not riding to the grocery store/pharmacy/library for small trips. Spring, rather than summer, would also be a good time to knock out my commute-by-bike-once-this-year goal.

I mean, if I was willing to run a mile holding two paperback books — more challenging than it sounds — I should be able to throw on a backpack and helmet for that same distance.

Plus, I've been promised a homemade version of these panniers, so my grocery-hauling ability should improve dramatically this season.

Seen — and envied — during RAGBRAI 2013.

4. Do 10 stair repeats in 10 minutes. That's three flights, up and down, per minute. I kept this pace for five minutes earlier this spring, so depending on how warm the hallways in my building get, this might or might not be doable.

5. Keep up the strength yoga. I was OK at keeping up with this during 5K training — not great and definitely not enthusiastic, but more consistent as I felt more confident in the poses. And given the time demands of half-marathon training, I'm happy to take a two-in-one workout where I can find it.

2014 goals: Shaving seconds and at least trying

I was waiting to write this post until I'd reflected at length on what I wanted to accomplish in 2014.

But then, honestly, I realized that I already knew what I hoped to achieve, and while they may not be especially ambitious given what I did in 2013, I'm OK with that.

Maybe I sound like I'm from the participation-award generation — and that's because I am — but the past few years, I've been setting low-threshold goals and not only meeting but also exceeding them. And that feels good.

Whatever keeps me doing something that's healthy for me physically and mentally, right?

1. Break 24:00* in a 5K.

2. Break 2:00:00* in a half marathon.

2a. At least consider doing the Des Moines Marathon this fall, instead of the half, if I do Dam to Dam in the spring and accomplish the sub-2:00:00 goal there.

Please note: I AM NOT SAYING I WANT TO AND PLAN TO DO A FULL MARATHON. What I am saying is, I've definitely improved as a runner, and my personal life is probably as marathon-friendly as it'll ever be — no kids, no spouse, workweek basically guaranteed to only be 40 hours and a five-minute commute.

If I'm ever going to try a marathon, this year wouldn't be a bad time.

3. Run a mile in less than 7:30*.

4. Try biking to work.

5. Continue working on being mentally strong.

* Also, lest people think I'm a huge baby, I'd also like to point out that once I start running again, I'll likely develop my perfect-race-day, good-race-day and bare-minimum-race-day goals for these events. For example, if I notch a 7:30 mile on my own, the best-case goal could become 7:00.

My 2014 race wish list

More fun than making New Year's resolutions is making a list of the races I'd like to do next year.

(And, not coincidentally, thinking about spring is more fun than worrying about staying safe during the winter.)

I of course have some general goals to go along with the races, but I haven't refined them yet or studied whether the training I'd have to do with each is feasible.

But if all the stars align and nothing unexpected happens (HA!), here's what I'd like to sign up for in 2013.

* Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K: I know for sure that one 2014 goal is to break my 5K PR. However, I'm not sure whether I can do it at this one, because last year it was gun timing only, no chips.

The field was either noncompetitive enough or small enough for me to line up almost at the start line last year, but I want the benefit of every second I can get. And I want those seconds to be measured by something more official than my iPhone.

The timing of this one is the best one I can find in the springtime, though, so this might be it by default.

* Grand Blue Mile: I never got around to doing Rockford's mile race, but I'd rather run hard later in the day and earlier in the year anyway.

* Woofin' It 5K: Furry Friends Refuge is my favorite charity to support, and who can argue with a race where you see dogs — in costume — of all sizes and breeds?

* Dam to Dam: Before I realized this was going to be a half marathon, I figured I'd just run it to cross off my signature-Iowa-events checklist. Then I heard of the distance increase and remembered how much more pleasant the 2013 race's weather was than the Drake Relays half ...

* RAGBRAI: Alright, it's not a race. It's definitely happening, though.

* Boone County 5K History Run/Walk: Gotta defend last year's best costume title.

* Maffitt Trail Race: I miss my occasional off-road adventures, so this should fill that void. It also has a decent chance of being a PR race, because I've never done a five-mile race, and I've only done one 10-mile one.

Either the Iowa Remembrance Run or the Capital Pursuit 5K: These races seem like good settings for PR attempts. If they're on different weekends, then I've got two chances; if they're on the same weekend, like they were in 2013, I have to balance my fondness for what I know I love against the feeling that I should try for variety ...

* Des Moines Half Marathon: ... except sometimes I have no qualms whatsoever about saying "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." If I train in my hilly 'hood and lace up for a flat half marathon, I LOVE my chances of setting another PR.

* Sycamore 8: This is one of the bigger "maybes" on my list. My feet and/or my budget might be tired of running. Or I might just chicken out. This definitely fulfills the urge for variety, and the urge to desire variety as well.

Feel free to weigh in on what I'm missing or what I'm right about!

Things I've learned about running just one mile

I already knew from last year that running a single mile is an odd feeling at first, and that when you compare it with the misery you felt during the middle school mile run, it puts your fitness gains into amazing perspective.

The stretch of subzero wind chills and its corresponding single-mile-run streak have taught me a few more things about the experience:

1. Basically, my head will never not sweat if I'm moving faster than a brisk walk for more than a few steps.

2. My nose will still run, but I can make it back without a Kleenex break.

3. I still need to stretch afterwards. I'd gotten lazy about it, thanks to some poor time management, and after a few days of that, I woke up with my first charley horse in years.

I haven't skipped stretching since, and the charley horses haven't recurred. Correlation doesn't mean causation, but right now, I think my theory is a good one.

4. Though I happily miss out on the runger, I still catch a brief runner's high. That also might just be relief that the Holiday Run Streak lives another day, but hey, whatever lifts the spirits!

Two types of people I'm thankful for

As I wrote last year, I sometimes fear more than wintry conditions when I brave less-than-ideal weather to run outdoors. I worry that others' judgment could turn aggressive.

I've had lots of chances to test Des Moines' tolerance, unfortunately, given the bone-chilling cold that doesn't seem to be budging; but I'm happy to report that no one has even honked at me.

Late last week, as the temperatures took a nose dive, I kept an eye out and exhaled with relief each time I saw another runner. It's not like there's really safety in numbers, particularly when we're going in opposite directions — but maybe I subconsciously feel less conspicuous.

During this stretch of single-mile runs, though, I've noticed there's decent sidewalk traffic already in my stretch of Des Moines, no matter what the wind chill is: College students and dog owners are still out and about.

Beyond providing camouflage, they also reassure me that yes, it's still OK for humans to be outside in this weather, and we can even exchange a quick grimace that while it's OK, it's not fun. (More pragmatically: If the sidewalks are used, they're likely to be cleared in a timely, thorough manner.)

It's true that drivers are still likely to think I'm a pretentious, self-righteous jerk for being outdoors by choice, while they'll see the students/dog parents as just unlucky souls not dodging responsibility because it's cold.

But that's OK, because their misery is my company.

A look at the run streak since I last posted:

Friday: 1 mile. Obligatory observation that getting dressed for a single mile in single-digit temperatures takes more time than actually running.

Saturday: 1 mile. Cory joined me for this one. Out-and-back miles pass even faster when you have company.

Sunday: 2.5 miles. Cory and I were both pretty excited for our first snowy run of the season. We would've run longer, but we had plans later. Big, fluffy flakes make the hills seem slightly less awful.

Monday: 1 mile. I'd daydreamed about scattering a few short runs throughout the day, because I'd been feeling bad about the streak-within-a-streak of running less than three miles, but it just didn't happen. I also finally remembered, though, that these are runs I wouldn't have done were it not for the streak.

The experience of running just a mile

When I first told my friend Marco that I was embarking on the Runner's World Holiday Run Streak and explained the rules, his reaction was: "Yeah, but if you're a runner, you won't be able to run just a mile."

Marco underestimates my ability to dawdle before work, apparently, but he was right — sort of — that running a single mile would feel weird.

First of all, as Doug pointed out, it seems like it takes you longer to change into running clothes and get out the door than it does to actually run that mile. And with the exception of my PR-setting mile, these ultra-short runs don't make me break a sweat ... more like a gentle glow.

Why does this surprise me? Well, it doesn't exactly shock me, but it does stand in stark contrast to my memories of the mile run in middle school — which was probably the last time before fall 2008 that I ran a full mile.

God, did the mile feel long then. I was completely unathletic and as self-conscious as all of us were during adolescence, so not only did I turn beet red and sweat up a storm, but I also nearly died of embarrassment from doing so.

You had to go around the playground four times. Four whole times. So not only was I miserable — breathless, crampy, hot, sweaty — but I was also bored out of my mind, and I didn't have the lung capacity to chat with anyone to break up the monotony, either.

Basically, it felt like some of the rougher stretches of the half marathons I've done, only with the perceived judgment/mockery of an entire school full of adolescents. (Give me the blistery, limpy, gut-achey miles I've trudged in my first and third half marathons any day over that.)

I compare this now with my out-and-back miles, during which the first half-mile is often over before I even notice. How dry everything but probably my pits and the roots of my hair are. How my breathing is normal by the time I walk from the stoplight where I always begin/end to my door.

How I can let my mind wander far, far away from the act of running, yet spend too little time to have a full range of daydreams (only one or two topics, far fewer than the dozens that float through my head on a longer run).

Running just a mile is weird. I don't feel any more deprived than I do any other time I'm out in beautiful weather or on fresh legs — I just don't feel like I've exerted much effort.

Attempting a 2012 goal for the first time since February

Throughout the Holiday Run Streak – now at 11, assuming (safely) that I run today — I've thought to myself: "At least one of the single-mile runs I do should be fast." While I have no qualms about using one slow mile as a stand-in for a rest day, I don't want to baby myself, either.

Yesterday was my first such attempt. Having been out late the night before, my hopes were not high. I knew that, with moderate effort, I could most likely finish in less than nine minutes, though.

Off I went. The first quarter-mile, I succeeded in keeping the pace I do on my faster intervals. The wind and the yogurt I'd eaten pre-run were mostly vague irritants more than hindrances.

As I've mentioned before, in my four years of running, I still haven't nailed "don't go out too fast and totally wipe yourself out." During the second quarter-mile, I felt cautiously optimistic that this was a good pacing day; I wasn't going to sustain this pace for 5K, but it was comfortably hard rather than excruciating.

I turned around at the half-mile mark. No surprise, then, that my legs felt the heaviest during the third quarter-mile. My lungs weren't exactly happy with me, either. However, my ego was doing just fine, having seen that I'd done a little over a half-mile in 4:10. The very likely positive split wouldn't keep me from finishing under 9:00.

The desire to get this over with powered me through the final quarter-mile. I've found "you can do anything for two minutes" to be a pretty powerful positive self-talk, so I went to that well almost nonstop during the final 0.25. I was sucking air fairly hard, but even worse was how the morning's yogurt and the previous night's alcohol were sloshing around in my stomach.

Finally I hit 1.00. My time? 7:57.

Let me repeat: 7:57.

Back in February, I'd set three running goals for myself: finish the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge, run a mile in 8:00 and average a 9:00 pace for a 5K (which I'd forgotten about, until re-reading my blog post).

At the time, I'm sure I expected to succeed in the first and fail at the second two. But as it stands right now, I've missed the first and nailed the second two. (Remember the Remembrance Run 5K?)

Plus, I've done more than survive the two speed challenges. I've finished maybe not with a smile, but with a great rush of endorphins and that ridiculous feeling that I can do anything once I get into some dry clothes and chug a big glass of water.

I'm still pinching myself: 7:57. I hope my gym teachers are reading this.

The RW Holiday Running Streak is on

The idea of doing the Runner's World Holiday Running Streak intrigued me, a week or so before it would start, but I had one reservation: the holiday part.

Thanksgiving — the kickoff day — posed the biggest challenge, at first. My parents were coming to visit me on Thanksgiving Eve and leaving before I headed to work on the actual holiday at 3 p.m.

Our plans were pretty loosey-goosey, but I figured that getting in a single mile (the bare minimum to keep the streak alive) was completely doable; if it didn't happen before work, it most likely would happen after my 11 p.m. punch-out.

Though that didn't turn out to be necessary on Thanksgiving — we said our farewells at noon, and I headed out in sunshine and 60-degree temps — the mental preparation paid dividends two days later.

A friend I'd made in Rockford was visiting family in Ames over the weekend, so we hung out Saturday before I headed to work at 1 p.m. There wasn't time before work, but there was after — at 11 p.m.

I'd gone running after work plenty of times during the summer and early fall, but never this late, never when it was that cold and never for that short of a distance. The first two factors dragged on my enthusiasm, but the third one pumped it up. Only a mile. Less than 10 minutes. I'd be safe and snug on my couch before I even knew it.

That same guarantee had pushed me out the door Friday, when temperatures were in the 30s or maybe even upper 20s, and when the wind was whipping around the prairie. I ended up knocking out a solid set of intervals rather than the slow mile I'd promised to do at minimum.

So the first three days were the toughest, but the challenge is working exactly as it was intended to. Mac 'n' cheese, eggs Benedict, sweet potato pie, egg nog, adult beverages — I'm downing them all in moderation AND without guilt.

Sprinting and spirits

Over the weekend, I read in Runner's World magazine that NPR's Peter Sagal attempted — and could not complete — a beer mile in Chicago recently.

Let me be honest. Although I read each issue nearly cover to cover, I hardly ever look at an article and think "hey, I can do that." The yoga feature is the most notable exception to that rule.

And now you think that months of reading about wacky races in which participants must either chug (beer, egg nog, etc.) or chow (Krispy Kremes) in between laps has worn me down.

Well, it hasn't, so you can relax and exhale again. So why do I bring up the rarity of RW-inspired action and beer chugging?

Here's a blow-by-blow account of my reaction to the piece.

I can't even finish a regular mile in the amount of time the winner finished in. (Note: Nor could I finish drinking a beer in the winning time.)

I can't chug beer.

I can't really chug anything.

Except water.

And Gatorade.

Maybe milk.

Possibly wine ...

(End flashback.)

Now, I know there are plenty of races that lead you through wine country for the specific purpose of letting you stop and sip.

But I have yet to come across a wine race built around speed instead of savoring. It's even reflected in the distances: a beer mile, but a wine half marathon/full marathon.

I suppose this makes sense, because I also have yet to come across a college culture built around chugging wine — only beer. Please illuminate me if wine-related competitions even exist; the only boasting I hear about wine is a solo person's ability to tuck away a bottle ... or more.

Sure, wine drinkers have a reputation for swirling, staring, sniffing, everything but gulping their drinks. But there's nothing (aside from shattering the sophisticated image) that would prevent them from skipping those steps during a race.

In fact, my love for wine and tepid acceptance of beer aside, I'd think slamming 12 ounces of a carbonated, carbohydrated beverage — then sprinting! — would be much more difficult than gulping 5 ounces of a juicelike drink.

Is that the answer for "why no wine miles?" That it actually would be easier? Or is it just that old habits die hard?