Retirement

I recently completed all of RAGBRAI — no skipping the extra miles on the Karras Loop, no riding the sag wagon, no agreeing to drive someone's vehicle for just one day.

That's 483 miles on a bike. Some of that time passed in conversation (and whining); some of it, in detailed observation of my surroundings; the rest of it, in thinking.

None of my thoughts were particularly deep, but I did come to one conclusion that I've stuck with since getting off the saddle:

It's time for me to retire from blogging.

Nothing in particular prompted the feeling, but once the thought entered my mind, it stayed there.

This seems like good practice in trusting my gut, and if my gut has steered me wrong, well, I'll trumpet my relaunch to round all of you back up.

Anyways, the past five-ish years of blogging have been a good run/good ride, puns not intended but also not deleted. 

I appreciate everyone who's followed me from Illinois to Iowa, and those who have joined somewhere along the way.

I'll still hopefully be providing snapshots of my meals, workouts and cats on Twitter, Instagram and Daily Mile. Let's keep in touch virtually!

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.

My 12th and final check-in on the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge

One running challenge down, one still left to go. (I haven't gotten my final holiday running streak effort in yet, but I will after I post this!)

I wrapped up my 2012 running season with two very cold and shockingly, nauseatingly fast miles on New Year's Eve. That put me at 931 for the entire year, running and walking.

The night before that — New Year's Eve Eve — I went ice skating at Brenton Plaza with two good friends, one of whom is a natural athlete and the other of whom is, well, more like me. (However she can swim laps around the two of us, so it evens out.)

As natural athlete friend outpaced the two of us who were clinging desperately to the handrail, I found myself thinking: "This was an ill-advised decision for a runner who's just days from completing two challenges she's worked fairly diligently on ... "

But as I found my stride and completed a loop or two, I tried desperately not to jinx myself with thoughts of "wow, I haven't wiped out yet!" but rather "I wonder how far each loop is" and "Does this count toward my run streak?"

It was facetious, sort of; I'd argue that skating is more worthy of being counted than biking, which I definitely saw people doing and definitely am not bitter about.

Thinking back on it post-challenge, however, makes me vaguely nostalgic, because it's emblematic of 2012 for me: I spent the year focusing on mileage, asking my companions "How far do you think we walked around [insert outdoor event or city]?",  re-creating the hike from Ogilvie Transportation Center to Chicago tourist attractions on MapMyRun, live-tracking a midparty liquor quest. 

Can I quit measuring any move of significance, cold turkey? Can I stop demanding that someone else uncork wine because, after all, I walked 1.7 miles to get that wine to share with her?

I should probably say yes to the latter and no to the former. The race against the calendar lit a fire under me to keep active this year, but the takeaway — for a nonwinner — was ultimately a helpful reminder that the walking miles add up in an important way for fitness purposes.

But first comes a well-deserved and much-needed period of inactivity. That will be the true judge of how deeply the fitness-tracking bug bit me.

I ran/walked 900 miles this year, no big deal

With two weeks left in the year, I reached my downwardly revised goal of 900 miles for the year.

I was at 894.74 through Sunday, so Monday — my day off — seemed to be a good time to cross that line. So after much trial-and-error in planning a long-enough route, I got myself out the door, onto the trail and across the 900-mile marker.

It was just like any other unremarkable milestone (turning 20, turning 25, reaching 100,000 on your car's odometer, etc.), in that it happened without fanfare. Heading in, I'd felt like maybe a sparkler should go off.

It didn't. I knew I'd achieved the goal, but I didn't spend much time congratulating myself on it — one text, only because someone else had texted me good news before; one brag on Daily Mile. Mostly I wondered: What's next? That is, how much closer can I get to 1,000 before 2013?

Poor 900. First it was a consolation prize, now it's a stepping stone. My gaze has moved on to 925 ...

My ninth check-in on the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge

The further into the 1000 Mile Challenge I get, the more diligent I become about tracking my walking.

No, I don't log the distance from my work to my car, or my apartment to my car — though maybe I should — but if I'm going to save my sanity and stroll to an event rather than move my car a half-mile closer, or if I'm going to spend a few hours at a festival, yeah, I'm gonna record that. Particularly if I feel any sort of burn the next day.

It's really like saving your spare change here and there, but there were definitely a few weekends in September where that walking put me up over 20 for the week. The recent short-term goal has been to get closer to 20 than 15.

So anyway, through Sunday, I've logged almost 705 miles for the year. The weekly average to win creeps ever higher: I'd have to get 24-plus per week, and that's just not in the cards.

But to get to 900, it looks like about 16 or 17 per week will do the trick. I just have to keep remembering that running chases away the grumpies and the caloric remorse over beer.

My legs' message finally cracks through my thick skull

Last month, it seemed like my Rockford running buddy Doug's posts on Daily Mile were consistently gloomy. I almost felt bad clicking on any of the smiling emoticons when I saw the grim-faced ones he was selecting.

Eventually, he blogged about making a change in his running routine, going from longer weekday runs and medium-long weekend runs to shorter weekday runs and truly long weekend runs.

It had paid off for his legs and thus also for his psyche as of the end of August, and judging from his tweets and Daily Mile posts, it's continued to work.

Meanwhile, the running routine I've sort of adopted/sort of fallen into is exactly what Doug had decided to quit — several four- or five-milers scattered throughout the week, plus one run of up to eight miles.

I didn't fret about it too much at the time. Runners aren't all made the same, and I kept going with what I thought was working.

Last Thursday, I started my morning with a seven-miler that felt about how most of my recent runs had been feeling: slow and heavy. I blamed the humidity and unexpectedly sunny skies. The next day, I did a four-miler that felt just slightly better.

Then, for 48 hours, I didn't run at all. Only on Sunday morning, more than 48 hours after I'd finished the four-miler, did I hit the road. And it felt great, not at all like every run in recent memory. On Monday night, I embarked on another run — same conditions, same route — and had the same strangely springy result.

Not even the strong winds and 60th Street hills on Wednesday afternoon could dampen my spirits or frustrate my legs, which were moving after another 48 hours of inactivity.

What changed?

Each run was no more than four miles, and they had more than 24 hours of rest as buffers. Looking back, I probably shouldn't have added "increase short run distance" to my training style without dropping "run frequently because you feel like too much rest makes your legs rusty," or at least adjusting it.

Also, having a wide range of run distances was a theme of previous half marathon training plans, but not my most recent one's — the training for which featured a lot more stopping and starting than past ones had, back when I was more of a noob and supposedly in worse shape.

Mystery possibly solved. I know I'm supposed to listen to my body, and I was trying to. I just couldn't interpret what it was saying, until a travel-heavy week and the memory of Doug's blog post served as a Rosetta Stone for runners.

My eighth check-in on the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge

First order of business: Happy 26th birthday to me!

If you'd asked me four or more years ago what I'd be doing on my 26th birthday, I never would've said: "Sitting in Des Moines, Iowa, and adding up how many miles I've run and walked — but mostly run — this year while my bike grew dusty and cobwebby."

Second order of business: That total is 612 through yesterday. Over Labor Day weekend, I might add some walking miles, but I'd rather post now and overdeliver instead of post later and underdeliver.

Apparently I've been averaging about 17 miles per week, which is below the 19ish that would've put me on pace for 1,000.

Though at 35 weeks into the year, falling two short a week puts me well off course, I'm pleasantly surprised at my weekly average — at this rate, I'll still break 900 miles for 2012.

It's a good thing I didn't give in to the moderate pessimism I felt the other day, after not running and checking Thursday's forecast (why so hot again?), and then assuming I was so far off course that it no longer mattered.

Checking my stats after putting in 6.2 miles was a much better call, creaky neck and tight hamstrings and sluggish muscles aside.

And no doubt the runner's high — I love that it still hits you, even during a crappy run and even only with tenths of a mile to go — was speaking ... but it did occur to me that fall and early winter will bring me my preferred running conditions.

Who knows what'll happen then. Yeah, there are out-of-town trips and holidays galore, but maybe I'll have more giddyup then. Or maybe I'll persuade myself to run the Des Moines Half, which doesn't much appeal to me now during the sluggish days of summer but might seem more doable when it's cooler.

When la dolce vita catches up to you, it's not so sweet

It dawned on me recently, after reading yet another runner's status update/Daily Mile post/tweet, that I hadn't gone on a long run in a while. Nearly a month, in fact.

So yesterday — Sunday's rain enabled me to procrastinate — I set out on an eight-miler, bright and early. I finished in about 1:17, averaging a 9:36 pace. The key word here is average, in two senses.

One, in how those miles ranged from 8:50 to 10:27, depending on the terrain and whether the wind was canceling out the humidity or canceling out my strength.

And two, in how unremarkable the run felt. With the exception of a few highs and lows, I mostly just moved OK. 

That was 24 hours ago, and my body is definitely still demanding what the heck I did to it. There's no pain, which I appreciate, and it seems that I was able to cure the insatiable hunger and lower-back stiffness last night ... but the sleepiness and slow-moving, sore legs have stuck around.

The last long run I took, a 7.5-miler in July, didn't seem to affect me quite this much. I doubt the extra half-mile is to blame. Though the routes and weather conditions were different, it's not their fault, either.

What to blame? More like whom to blame. Me.

While it's true I've been running fairly consistently over the past month, I've also been rather self-indulgent recently. Dinner out, with appetizers and/or dessert? Yes, please. A glass of wine and/or cup of ice cream after work? You got it.

Don't worry: My alcohol tolerance hasn't shot up, nor have the buttons on my pants popped; I'm indulging in moderation, but on what's becoming a routine basis.

Fellow young athletes have shared wisdom about treats and training with me in the past.

One, my roller-derby-playing friend Jeniece, cited a blog post comparing bodies to machines — the quality of the fuel, for each, affects performance, i.e., when you're pouring junk in, don't expect stellar results.

The other, Scheels bike group leader Jordan, mentioned that he abstains from alcohol, not because he doesn't like it, but because it cancels out the gains from working out. (He has some ambitious biking goals, which I've forgotten.)

I'm not going to turn into an ascetic — even despite that New York Times blog post that destroyed my "I run for pizza" philosophy — but now that the ice cream and wine are gone from my freezer and fridge, respectively, I don't think I'll restock.

Whoaaaaaaa, I'm halfway there!

This past Sunday, I broke the 500-mile mark for the year (that's running plus the walking I've been able to record), and I didn't even realize it until probably a day later.

It wasn't that I didn't know it was coming — at some point last week, I calculated the right-then mileage, and it was close enough where I thought, "Here comes 500!" ... and then promptly forgot.

My absent-mindedness probably worked in my favor here, however: I always want milestones to feel electric, to make me buzz with excitement, and inevitably that urge to note a special feeling means the moment falls flat. Guess I put too much pressure on the milestone.

Instead, the surprise of No. 500 gave me that sought-after jolt of accomplishment as I added up my previous-week and year-to-date mileage on Monday night.

Anyway, I notched 500 somewhere in the neighborhood south of my apartment complex during a nighttime run, so odds are good that I was focusing on not falling and on not running over any walkers (the sidewalks are normal-sized in this neighborhood, instead of extra-wide, as they are along some of the main roads in West Des Moines).

It was probably on the long, steady, slight incline, so I probably was also huffing and puffing and possibly swearing delicately. My overall effort that evening was strong, though: My splits were 9:43, 9:15, 9:30, 9:42 (is this it?) and 9:24. Not bad, considering the low light and high humidity.

Obviously, the title of the post is a reference to both the 1000 Mile Challenge and "Livin' On A Prayer." As I mentioned earlier, I'm unlikely to reach 1,000 miles, but I looked back at my 2011 wrap-up post to see how many running/walking miles I was able to record that year: 669, plus several outings during which I didn't have a tracking device.

So a few weeks past the year's halfway point, I'm at 75 percent of last year's total, and well on my way to surpassing the modest goal I mentioned in the early 2012 post (breaking 700 miles).

I'm pretty pleased with these numbers. They've come at a cost to my biking, of course, and a recent solo excursion has reminded me of what I'm missing, but next year's big adventure should compensate for that ...

My sixth check-in on the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge

With the year halfway done, here's how I'm doing on Daily Mile's Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge.

Obviously, I should be at 500 miles ... and I've logged 461, or 39 off pace for the year.

I know objectively that this is a somewhat significant gap, as far as catching up goes, but when I think of how much I avoided summer runs in the past few years, I feel like patting myself on the back, high-fiving myself and buying myself a celebratory drink.

After all, I logged about seven-ish miles for the two weeks after my half marathon, which had put me within three miles of being exactly on track. Those two weeks were spent recovering from the race and moving 300 miles for a new, improved job, so I don't have any reason to berate myself.

That fortnight is responsible for about two-thirds of my shortfall; over the course of the following month, I came up short a few miles a few weeks, and that's it. So I'm well on my way to establishing the habit of running four-plus miles regularly, and I'm working on going past that more often.

Will this get me to 1,000 miles by Dec. 31? Maybe, maybe not — I have to average closer to 21 miles per week for the rest of the year. But it's not outside the realm of possibility, and I'm on track to break 900 if I maintain the status quo. That would still be worth celebrating.

* * *

Past monthly check-ins: January through April (at Get Running) and May (at Little Runner, Bigger City).

Cross-training across Des Moines

I haven't run the past two days, but it's OK — recovery days are also reconnaissance days, as it turns out.

On Thursday I again joined the Scheels bike group for a 30ish-mile ride (my total distance was 33.5 miles, but that includes biking to the meeting place and peeling off to go directly home at the end).

This group serves a couple of purposes for me: socializing; challenging myself in something at which I actually can improve; and, duh, guiding me through the Des Moines trail system ... in particular, showing me a fast way to access a nearby trail, without making me read a map.

With a slower pace and better weather, I had more mental energy to spend on observing the trail, as opposed to gluing my eyes to the next-to-last cyclist's wheel. The trees, the creek, the gentle breeze were all so refreshing and energizing as we whizzed through at 15 mph. And it hit me — why the heck was I running on shade-free sidewalks, especially when the sun was out?

Maybe, in addition to the timing switches I've been considering, I should consider changing locations, to the forested valley through which the bike group leads me. It's less than two miles from my complex; a full-grown (mentally full-grown) adult should be able to manage her time adequately enough to make a cool run there happen.

Friday, I took advantage of my early-bird downtown parking spot to stroll over to the Des Moines Arts Festival after work. (Yep, I counted that, plus a short morning errand, toward my 1,000-mile goal. Every mile, and every mile increment, counts.)

One of the timing switches I've been considering is incorporating more evening runs into my routine. On Friday and Saturday nights, I'm off work early, leaving me time to head home, eat, digest and then exercise while it's still light. Other days, when I leave at 9 p.m., I don't have that luxury — but it occurred to me that I could stave off both dehydration/heat stroke and running route boredom by bringing running gear to work and heading out right away.

The link between this and the art festival: My co-worker mentioned, as we passed the Western Gateway Park sculptures, how beautiful it is when the pieces are illuminated at night. Aha! A new, well-lit place to run!

I feel very satisfied with this cross-training/recovery combination.

My fifth check-in on the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge

At my old blog, Get Running, I'd been doing monthly check-ins on my progress in Daily Mile's Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge.

The goal is obvious; you can combine running and walking, but the description omits biking (which would make it pretty darn easy, IMO), so I haven't been counting that. "Everyone wins," according to the site ... however, I'm not sure I'll hit the 1,000 by Dec. 31.

But I digress. I punted on May's check-in because I'd quit my old job and was in the process of moving for a new one. Also, I lacked the energy, the time and the name for my new blog. So this entry gets a bonus week (the first full one in June).

Through those 22 weeks, I've run/walked 395.26 miles, which is, sadly and suddenly, way off-pace. I need to average about 19 miles per week, for a total of 423 miles through Week 22.

Almost 30 miles behind, with the halfway point of the year approaching. Not so good. Back in January, I was confident that training for a 10-miler and half marathon would've given me a cushion by the time hot weather arrived. Oh, that naive, foolish 25.42-year-old ... if only she knew what the 25.83-year-old knows now!

Wait, what do I know now, besides that my long runs weren't going to compensate for the two-week dry span that I suspect torpedoed my pace? (In my defense, I'd just finished a half marathon and was preparing for and executing a 300-mile move.)

Even before I confirmed my suspicions that I'd fallen behind, I'd been ruminating on my running behavior — specifically, my short/easy/just-get-'er-done run length. It's been three to 3.5 miles ever since I started running full time in spring 2008.

Several ingredients went into the realization that it was time to take that up a notch: reading other runners' lengthier workout summaries on Twitter; experiencing pleasant local weather and a fresh, new area to explore; eating cookies, ice cream, brownies and dark chocolate nuggets; noticing that I've long passed noob status and haven't ramped up speed or mileage; and, finally, knowing that I'd have to run six three-milers a week to stay on track with the 1000 Mile Challenge.

If I can make four miles my default distance, I can gain a little bit of ground on my challenge. I also then can start phasing in five- and six-milers as my midlength run distance.

With my new hours at my new job, this all seems slightly more feasible. Instead of wrapping up work at midnight or 1 a.m., I now head out somewhere between 6 and 9 p.m. right now, which during the hot summer days leaves me a decent window of daylight even after dinner.

So no distress calls on the 1000 Mile Challenge just yet — there's time to redeem myself and regain some ground.