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.
Showing posts with label Des Moines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Des Moines. Show all posts
Friday, May 30, 2014
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.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Why random nice days during wintertime are great
Recently, it occurred to me that I could kill two birds with one stone, with a certain topic for a blog post.
If I wrote about why winter running is great, I could not only put some content up, but I might also end up convincing myself, thus saving me the half-hour it usually takes to psych me up.
But to be perfectly honest, inspiration was a little lacking. It also didn't help that my best recent run came on the warmest recent day.
So instead of appreciating the cold weather on its own merits, I'll have to settle for appreciating how the cold weather makes me appreciate milder temperatures ... as unimpressed as I am with myself for being so cliche here.
Seriously, though, while I wasn't frustrated at how slow last week's runs went, I was a little sad.
I did succumb once to "if I can barely do three miles, what right do I even have to think about thinking about doing a whole marathon?" though fortunately that thought dissipated once I got to the top of whatever hill I was climbing.
It's one thing to tell yourself that you're struggling because it's windy and below freezing; it's a whole lot more convincing when you log 5.25 miles at a 9:25 pace on a day when it's at least 10 degrees warmer.
With my 5K training plan kicking off next week, I needed to see that kind of result when I'm still in base-training mode — proof that there is something to build off. Especially as winter doesn't show any inclination to ease up.
If I wrote about why winter running is great, I could not only put some content up, but I might also end up convincing myself, thus saving me the half-hour it usually takes to psych me up.
But to be perfectly honest, inspiration was a little lacking. It also didn't help that my best recent run came on the warmest recent day.
So instead of appreciating the cold weather on its own merits, I'll have to settle for appreciating how the cold weather makes me appreciate milder temperatures ... as unimpressed as I am with myself for being so cliche here.
Seriously, though, while I wasn't frustrated at how slow last week's runs went, I was a little sad.
I did succumb once to "if I can barely do three miles, what right do I even have to think about thinking about doing a whole marathon?" though fortunately that thought dissipated once I got to the top of whatever hill I was climbing.
It's one thing to tell yourself that you're struggling because it's windy and below freezing; it's a whole lot more convincing when you log 5.25 miles at a 9:25 pace on a day when it's at least 10 degrees warmer.
With my 5K training plan kicking off next week, I needed to see that kind of result when I'm still in base-training mode — proof that there is something to build off. Especially as winter doesn't show any inclination to ease up.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Shorts report
Anyone else feel like we're stuck in the same weather loop?
One or two sunny, mild days that lift our spirits sky-high, only to be crushed by the deep freeze that follows and sticks around for several days before beginning the cycle anew.
I mean, I live in the Midwest by choice, and I don't have a gym membership by choice, so I'm not asking for sympathy.
If nothing else, the arctic spells make me determined to take advantage of the nicer days — not just by going outside, but by wearing shorts in January!
I've managed to run outside in shorts three times so far this month, two of those times in a T-shirt as well. One of those days I probably could've been comfortable in tights, but I wasn't suffering in shorts, either.
I like to think of the mud splatters all up my calves as badges of honor, especially when I pass at least one runner who's clothed head to toe as I sneak the summer gear out months early.
Doesn't look like I'll have another such chance for a while, but we'll see what February brings. At the very least I should be able to leave the fuzzy hat and gloves behind here and there.
One or two sunny, mild days that lift our spirits sky-high, only to be crushed by the deep freeze that follows and sticks around for several days before beginning the cycle anew.
I mean, I live in the Midwest by choice, and I don't have a gym membership by choice, so I'm not asking for sympathy.
If nothing else, the arctic spells make me determined to take advantage of the nicer days — not just by going outside, but by wearing shorts in January!
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| The legs were out last Sunday! (PS — I *am* wearing shorts in this photo. They just got cut off.) |
I like to think of the mud splatters all up my calves as badges of honor, especially when I pass at least one runner who's clothed head to toe as I sneak the summer gear out months early.
Doesn't look like I'll have another such chance for a while, but we'll see what February brings. At the very least I should be able to leave the fuzzy hat and gloves behind here and there.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Crossing Polk Boulevard off my list
When I announced that I'd be moving to Des Moines, Mike at Running Is Funny sent me an article about the trails and good road routes.
Each time in the past year and a half that I've checked back, I think smugly, "Oh, yah, I know all about those rec paths," and then realize that once again, I haven't managed to hit up Polk Boulevard, the most intriguing (read: easy) of the road routes it mentions.
Co-worker Suzanne, a runner and longtime resident of Des Moines, has also mentioned its appeal. But despite willingly driving to Water Works Park or Gray's Lake from West Des Moines to meet friends, I couldn't manage to travel fewer miles to run Polk.
Then I moved close to Sherman Hill, and the obstacles disappeared. I've done a four-miler that covers about half of Polk and drops me off on an older part of Grand Avenue twice now, and I have to say — I can't wait to do it in the springtime!
OK, so that can be said of just about anywhere in the Midwest, given how dreary the dead grass and bare trees can look, even if you like running during the winter.
Cut me some slack; I'm clearly enjoying the switch from newer (albeit still lovely) suburban houses to older, stately ones. If anyone knows of running history or architecture tours in Des Moines, do share!
My favorite views from the runs:
Other structures I liked from this run: the bridges over Interstate 235. Every time I drove to work, I'd admire the pretty blue arches as I went under them. And now I've conquered them.
I don't know what appeals to me so much about overpasses. Short flatlander syndrome?
Each time in the past year and a half that I've checked back, I think smugly, "Oh, yah, I know all about those rec paths," and then realize that once again, I haven't managed to hit up Polk Boulevard, the most intriguing (read: easy) of the road routes it mentions.
Co-worker Suzanne, a runner and longtime resident of Des Moines, has also mentioned its appeal. But despite willingly driving to Water Works Park or Gray's Lake from West Des Moines to meet friends, I couldn't manage to travel fewer miles to run Polk.
Then I moved close to Sherman Hill, and the obstacles disappeared. I've done a four-miler that covers about half of Polk and drops me off on an older part of Grand Avenue twice now, and I have to say — I can't wait to do it in the springtime!
OK, so that can be said of just about anywhere in the Midwest, given how dreary the dead grass and bare trees can look, even if you like running during the winter.
Cut me some slack; I'm clearly enjoying the switch from newer (albeit still lovely) suburban houses to older, stately ones. If anyone knows of running history or architecture tours in Des Moines, do share!
My favorite views from the runs:
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| Roosevelt High School — one of the prettier schools I've seen. Not on Polk, but close to it. |
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| I love brick buildings, and I love cottage-like homes. So yes, I will take this as a Christmas gift. |
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| The Butler House on Grand. I will also accept a yearlong reservation there as a gift, for when my lease runs out, if the Polk Boulevard home above isn't for sale. |
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| If I remember correctly, this is either a law firm or financial services office. Nothing wrong with our well-built, recently renovated office, but ... I wish I worked in a mock castle :( |
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| I appreciate the cheerful yellow on this one. |
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| The pedestrian-only one, as seen from the Polk Boulevard one. What a view! |
Thursday, December 19, 2013
The spoils of victory have arrived
Remember a few months back how I kept winning things, like competitions with boyfriends and free stuff from Another Mother Runner?
Well, the goodies — arm warmers and a baseball cap — arrived this week!
The obligatory selfie, before a four-mile test run:
I was a little nervous about wearing so much new stuff on a run that definitely took me away from my place.
In particular, I wasn't sure that the arm warmers would fit properly — they're size medium, which in running tops I sometimes am, but which I almost never am in street clothes.
Also, the elastic on both ends brought back bad memories of my old iPhone arm case, which somehow both pinched and drooped/flopped all over.
Fortunately, this first-world problem did not occur. The warmers fit just fine and didn't creep anywhere; the hat, like all good hats, was adjustable. (And hot pink.)
So I'm happy with my free gear, but I do have to point out that this is a useless product review, because I didn't exactly test these in the conditions they're designed for.
The weather was just cool enough where I wanted to keep the sleeves on the entire time, rather than shed them midway through, and while being more visible to cars is a generally good idea, it wasn't exactly critical during a noon run along sidewalks in bright sunshine.
If nothing else, though, these freebies help the laundry rotation by converting two T-shirts into makeshift long-sleeved ones and adding one more forehead-sweat-catcher to my four sweatbands and one grubby baseball cap.
Well, the goodies — arm warmers and a baseball cap — arrived this week!
The obligatory selfie, before a four-mile test run:
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| No, I'm not chewing on a toothpick — that's a scratch in the mirror. Or a speck. Don't judge my housekeeping. |
In particular, I wasn't sure that the arm warmers would fit properly — they're size medium, which in running tops I sometimes am, but which I almost never am in street clothes.
Also, the elastic on both ends brought back bad memories of my old iPhone arm case, which somehow both pinched and drooped/flopped all over.
Fortunately, this first-world problem did not occur. The warmers fit just fine and didn't creep anywhere; the hat, like all good hats, was adjustable. (And hot pink.)
So I'm happy with my free gear, but I do have to point out that this is a useless product review, because I didn't exactly test these in the conditions they're designed for.
The weather was just cool enough where I wanted to keep the sleeves on the entire time, rather than shed them midway through, and while being more visible to cars is a generally good idea, it wasn't exactly critical during a noon run along sidewalks in bright sunshine.
If nothing else, though, these freebies help the laundry rotation by converting two T-shirts into makeshift long-sleeved ones and adding one more forehead-sweat-catcher to my four sweatbands and one grubby baseball cap.
Monday, December 16, 2013
My new neighborhood is a little weird, and I like it
I've recently gone back to my dumbphone days and started running "naked" again — the cold weather kills my battery so fast that it's unnecessary dead weight in my pocket.
It's not like I'm training for anything, so I don't need to know my pace or splits; I'm also not doing solo night runs or venturing so far out into the wilderness that I fear for my safety when phone-free.
The most important purpose the iPhone has been serving, therefore, has been to take photos of the quirky things I find on my new routes. Such as:
I've never seen an informal library outside of a coffee shop or a hotel, but I'm glad to find this — mostly because bookworms like to know they're not alone, but partly because then I have a backup plan if I run out of reading material while the library system is closed.
My parents live in the country, so I'm used to seeing roadside stands with produce. I've spent my entire life in the Midwest, so I'm *not* used to seafood tents. And no, I didn't buy any.
I really hope someone has parked here illegally, and the business owner followed through with the graffiti's threat instead of calling a tow truck.
It's not like I'm training for anything, so I don't need to know my pace or splits; I'm also not doing solo night runs or venturing so far out into the wilderness that I fear for my safety when phone-free.
The most important purpose the iPhone has been serving, therefore, has been to take photos of the quirky things I find on my new routes. Such as:
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| A "little free library" outside someone's home. |
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| Traveling shrimp salesmen? |
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| I think this was at the Jimmy John's on Grand. |
Friday, December 6, 2013
Holiday Running Streak: One week in the books
When I mentioned earlier this week that the first day of my streak was the hardest, I had no idea how wrong I was.
In descending order of ease/ascending order of difficulty, here's how the follow-up runs have gone.
Monday: 3 miles. I waited until later in the evening so I could have some company, so I missed another chance to do shorts in December. I took full advantage, however, of a chance to be a running despot.
We'd gone two miles (one lap around Gray's Lake), and I said I'd keep going if anyone else wanted to. Regina didn't want to and left; Cory didn't want to but continued for another mile with me.
I guess I just find two miles to be a weird increment — if I'm going to break a sweat, I might as well do it for three miles/30 minutes; if I'm aiming for a token run streak entry, no point in doing any more than a mile.
Tuesday: 4.7 miles. The target was closer to four, but I was set on reaching the intersection of two trails, and that point happened to be a slight downhill. No regrets, though, not even after the uphills.
My route took me through Greenwood Park, and even in the ugly transition period we're in (from fall to winter), it was so picturesque. There's a pond! A theater shell! Woods! I can't wait to run through it this spring.
Wednesday: 3.25 miles. Our weather had started to turn slightly. Both Tuesday and Wednesday were long-sleeve days, but Wednesday added mist, fog, clouds and raw-at-times wind.
I was intent on getting at least three miles in at this point, however, because I'd seen what a cold front was going to do, and I was scared. So I ran to Salisbury House and back, admiring the many other majestic houses along the way.
Just as I was feeling incredibly grateful for having such a beautiful old neighborhood so close to me, I hit one of the steepest inclines I've found in Des Moines. I felt like I was running in sand, it was so dramatic, but fortunately it was short. Hill repeats in the spring?
Thursday: 1.03 miles. The Holiday Running Streak is now officially in peril. Our high was reached at 12:05 a.m., when I was most definitely NOT running, and it was a mere 19 degrees. I'd searched Weather.com in vain for a relatively warm (emphasis on relatively) time to run and found nothing until next Tuesday, maybe.
So post-nap, I pulled on long johns underneath my tights, zipped my jacket over my warmer long-sleeved shirt all the way to my chin, and basically covered my entire head (fuzzy headband, face/neck warmer and sunglasses).
I did manage to avoid most of the wind gusts, either by smart route planning or procrastination, and I got an A- in dressing. (Socks should've overlapped my tights, or vice versa.) The worst part, though, was knowing how many more days I'll have to dump distance in favor of not catching hypothermia.
Yeah, I definitely take the streak too seriously.
In descending order of ease/ascending order of difficulty, here's how the follow-up runs have gone.
Monday: 3 miles. I waited until later in the evening so I could have some company, so I missed another chance to do shorts in December. I took full advantage, however, of a chance to be a running despot.
We'd gone two miles (one lap around Gray's Lake), and I said I'd keep going if anyone else wanted to. Regina didn't want to and left; Cory didn't want to but continued for another mile with me.
I guess I just find two miles to be a weird increment — if I'm going to break a sweat, I might as well do it for three miles/30 minutes; if I'm aiming for a token run streak entry, no point in doing any more than a mile.
Tuesday: 4.7 miles. The target was closer to four, but I was set on reaching the intersection of two trails, and that point happened to be a slight downhill. No regrets, though, not even after the uphills.
My route took me through Greenwood Park, and even in the ugly transition period we're in (from fall to winter), it was so picturesque. There's a pond! A theater shell! Woods! I can't wait to run through it this spring.
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| This memorial caught me off-guard in Ashworth Park. |
I was intent on getting at least three miles in at this point, however, because I'd seen what a cold front was going to do, and I was scared. So I ran to Salisbury House and back, admiring the many other majestic houses along the way.
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| Never mind the anachronistic cars outside the Tudor-style mansion. |
Thursday: 1.03 miles. The Holiday Running Streak is now officially in peril. Our high was reached at 12:05 a.m., when I was most definitely NOT running, and it was a mere 19 degrees. I'd searched Weather.com in vain for a relatively warm (emphasis on relatively) time to run and found nothing until next Tuesday, maybe.
So post-nap, I pulled on long johns underneath my tights, zipped my jacket over my warmer long-sleeved shirt all the way to my chin, and basically covered my entire head (fuzzy headband, face/neck warmer and sunglasses).
I did manage to avoid most of the wind gusts, either by smart route planning or procrastination, and I got an A- in dressing. (Socks should've overlapped my tights, or vice versa.) The worst part, though, was knowing how many more days I'll have to dump distance in favor of not catching hypothermia.
Yeah, I definitely take the streak too seriously.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Holiday Running Streak kickoff: First step is the hardest
There was no reason for my Holiday Running Streak not to start strong.
I had the day off work; my family had visited me the previous weekend to help with moving; and the potluck I was attending didn't start until 2 p.m.
So naturally, it was after 10 p.m. before I got around to running. Fellow streakers Joel and Cory had long ago logged their runs and made sure I knew it, so the pressure was on.
But run I did — a single mile, but that's all you have to do to make it count. Funny how much better I felt after that, physically and mentally.
Here's a rundown of my streak so far.
Thursday: 1 mile. Hills are not fun on bellies that, until you moved, were comfortably full of food and wine.
Hills are fun, however, for minds that remember how many desserts you ate (four small ones), approximately how much wine you drank (and still didn't catch a buzz, given the food baby you conceived) and how excited you were to finally explore your new neighborhood.
Friday: 3.75 miles. I tested out what I thought was the best route to pick up the Des Moines trail system. I glided through quiet, winding neighborhoods down to a gravel trail through Water Works Park, then huffed and puffed back up the downhills that were so relaxing earlier.
Des Moines continues to surprise me by how suddenly it turns rural. And how hilly it is.
Unrelated: This sign made me laugh.
Saturday: 3.25 miles. What those hills give, they also take. I'd noticed a steep uphill and sketched a path around it, reasoning that a hill at the end was good enough justification.
But because I barely know the roads around my new place, I ended up picking a roller-coaster ride. With the relatively mild weather and the novelty of unfamiliar roads, though, I didn't mind at all.
Sunday: 2.66 miles. Sunday was a classic example of why Runner's World organized this run streak. Regina and I delayed our run so that we could do this:
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| That is a beer-and-cookie flight: a breakfast stout with the brownie, a vanilla oatmeal stout with the vanilla chocolate chip cookie, a citrusy IPA with the lemon bar, and a chocolate porter with the chocolate chocolate chip cookie. |
I had no regrets (OK, I wish only one of us had gotten the brownie pairing so we could've split that), but I did need a few hours for the stomach to settle. And to be honest, during the run, I realized it wasn't at 100 percent.
However — I went, and given how lovely it was earlier in the day (yeah, when I was drinking beer and eating baked goods), I dared to bare the legs. Shorts in December!
Friday, November 15, 2013
What I'll miss about running in West Des Moines
I mentioned in an offhand way a few posts ago that I would be moving soon.
Soon came sooner than I thought: By Thanksgiving, I'll be out of my West Des Moines apartment and living in Des Moines proper.
There are, of course, many aspects of the new apartment that I'm excited about (otherwise I would've just renewed here), but, duh, one of them is fresh running scenery.
At the same time, I'll miss certain things about my current place, some of them related to running routes. I've been planning a few runs (not all of them) with the intention of hitting some spots I likely won't return to very soon.
The top five features of West Des Moines running that I'll miss:
5. Proximity to Raccoon River Park: I didn't even go there to run very often, but its gravel trail and heavy tree cover reminded me of a beloved trail back in my hometown (which in fact I want my ashes scattered along, some day far in the future).
It's where I set two 5K personal records at the past two Remembrance Runs, and it's also where I first went running with fellow "Scoop Chasers" Regina, Zach and Emily — setting the tone for a year of meeting up to run or bike.
4. Nearby restaurants: I frequently run past Biaggi's, Culver's, Taco John's, Arby's and a few other fast-food joints, and they all put out heavenly smells. Sometimes it's a cruel taunt, but mostly I just enjoy another reason to think about food.
3. The Ashworth Road overpass over Interstate 35: I just really like this overpass. I'm not sure whether it's because of the vines growing over the chain-link covering, or whether it's because I often cross it after coming up a long incline.
2. The variety of trails in all directions: I'm within a mile of the Jordan Creek Trail, within about 1.5 miles of the Clive Greenbelt Trail and at most seven miles from the Raccoon River Valley Trail. That doesn't even include the minitrails around the city.
Best of all — they're not all in the same direction, so I could pick based on where the wind was coming from. Or where I wanted to deal with hills.
1. Its wide, smooth, continuous sidewalks: In the part of the city where I live, West Des Moines' sidewalks are twice as wide as my new neighborhood's are; almost every street has nonstop sidewalk; and nearly every one is either smooth or along a road so quiet that I can just hop into the street.
Coming next week, to ward off any nostalgia as move-out approaches: what I'm ready to say goodbye to.
Soon came sooner than I thought: By Thanksgiving, I'll be out of my West Des Moines apartment and living in Des Moines proper.
There are, of course, many aspects of the new apartment that I'm excited about (otherwise I would've just renewed here), but, duh, one of them is fresh running scenery.
At the same time, I'll miss certain things about my current place, some of them related to running routes. I've been planning a few runs (not all of them) with the intention of hitting some spots I likely won't return to very soon.
The top five features of West Des Moines running that I'll miss:
5. Proximity to Raccoon River Park: I didn't even go there to run very often, but its gravel trail and heavy tree cover reminded me of a beloved trail back in my hometown (which in fact I want my ashes scattered along, some day far in the future).
It's where I set two 5K personal records at the past two Remembrance Runs, and it's also where I first went running with fellow "Scoop Chasers" Regina, Zach and Emily — setting the tone for a year of meeting up to run or bike.
4. Nearby restaurants: I frequently run past Biaggi's, Culver's, Taco John's, Arby's and a few other fast-food joints, and they all put out heavenly smells. Sometimes it's a cruel taunt, but mostly I just enjoy another reason to think about food.
3. The Ashworth Road overpass over Interstate 35: I just really like this overpass. I'm not sure whether it's because of the vines growing over the chain-link covering, or whether it's because I often cross it after coming up a long incline.
2. The variety of trails in all directions: I'm within a mile of the Jordan Creek Trail, within about 1.5 miles of the Clive Greenbelt Trail and at most seven miles from the Raccoon River Valley Trail. That doesn't even include the minitrails around the city.
Best of all — they're not all in the same direction, so I could pick based on where the wind was coming from. Or where I wanted to deal with hills.
1. Its wide, smooth, continuous sidewalks: In the part of the city where I live, West Des Moines' sidewalks are twice as wide as my new neighborhood's are; almost every street has nonstop sidewalk; and nearly every one is either smooth or along a road so quiet that I can just hop into the street.
Coming next week, to ward off any nostalgia as move-out approaches: what I'm ready to say goodbye to.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Shivering ... with delight?
As I mentioned previously, dressing for winter runs — and just getting excited about running, period — has been a struggle of late.
Once a week, though, I've relied on peer pressure to get me out there. The recent strategy is, after too much eating and sitting on a Saturday, I text Regina on a Sunday to make plans to run Monday.
Including this past Monday, we are three for three on following through on those plans. What's more impressive: Our most recent one was on the evening of Des Moines' first snow.
Throw on a blanket as you read the key figures from the Monday night run:
28: Actual temperature.
16: Feels-like temperature.
18: Wind, in mph.
10: Minutes after sunset that this run began.
1: Other people spotted during this lap around Gray's Lake. (Two other runners wrapped up before we started, and one biker took off before us.)
I arrived before Regina did and made the mistake of looking up these weather stats. If I hadn't thought it would be rude to bail while she was en route, I would have. (I made another mistake in confessing this to her, at which point she told me that it would've been OK this particular time.)
Instead, I went through with it. And you know what? It was actually kind of fun. Very cold, yes, and slippery in spots. But I'm glad I put on an extra layer instead of texting "actually never mind."
Despite the pitch-black sky at 6 p.m., as I drove back, I felt cheerful and enthusiastic — OK, less negative — about winter running. I might not go into early hibernation after all!
Once a week, though, I've relied on peer pressure to get me out there. The recent strategy is, after too much eating and sitting on a Saturday, I text Regina on a Sunday to make plans to run Monday.
Including this past Monday, we are three for three on following through on those plans. What's more impressive: Our most recent one was on the evening of Des Moines' first snow.
Throw on a blanket as you read the key figures from the Monday night run:
28: Actual temperature.
16: Feels-like temperature.
18: Wind, in mph.
10: Minutes after sunset that this run began.
1: Other people spotted during this lap around Gray's Lake. (Two other runners wrapped up before we started, and one biker took off before us.)
I arrived before Regina did and made the mistake of looking up these weather stats. If I hadn't thought it would be rude to bail while she was en route, I would have. (I made another mistake in confessing this to her, at which point she told me that it would've been OK this particular time.)
Instead, I went through with it. And you know what? It was actually kind of fun. Very cold, yes, and slippery in spots. But I'm glad I put on an extra layer instead of texting "actually never mind."
Despite the pitch-black sky at 6 p.m., as I drove back, I felt cheerful and enthusiastic — OK, less negative — about winter running. I might not go into early hibernation after all!
Friday, October 25, 2013
A less technical look at the Des Moines Half
So I've already rambled about what I did right during the Des Moines Half; here's what other people did right.
First of all, I really like Des Moines. So it stands to reason that I'd like the Des Moines Half's course. I liked passing familiar spots, like the Capitol, Court Avenue bars and my hair salon, and I also liked when we veered off the roads I always drive so that I could see a few landmarks I don't have memorized.
I know the race boasted about how much went through Water Works and Gray's Lake parks, and of course those were scenic, but weirdly enough I think I would've enjoyed more city running.
(Then again, the familiarity with the Gray's Lake terrain was awfully nice. And as someone who works in downtown Des Moines, I probably shouldn't encourage more road closures/detours in a part of town that's already heavily one-way traffic.)
The spectator turnout always impresses me, no matter what race I do. Kids reached out for high-fives; strangers told us we were looking great; signs encouraged us to smile if we'd peed and reminded us that we were running better than the government.
Of course, this was one of the two best signs:
 |
| Zach (not pictured, because he's taking the picture), Emily and Regina made this sign for me, though I couldn't read it when I went by; after I'd finished, we came back out to the same spot to cheer on Cory, our marathoner. It was a crowd-pleaser in general. |
Seriously, though, Zach, Emily and Regina were awake and dressed and out of their apartments at 8 a.m. on a Sunday trying to cheer me and Cory on. They missed us early on, but they found us at my mile 11/Cory's mile 24, and a block from the finish.
And here was the other best sign:
This one came via text from fellow Warriors Zach and Chelsea, who had initially thought they'd already be in Des Moines during the race weekend. (And again, because I got this at the race's start, this meant that a 20-something was coherent at 8 a.m.) It still did the trick.
And here was the other best sign:
 |
| One thing they teach you at Truman State is how to make fantastic signs. Chelsea and I practiced this skill for Zach's weight-lifting meets, back in the day. |
Speaking of support, of course the volunteers at the aid stations were great (though as I mentioned I didn't really visit that often), and there was even one spectator who brought a box of Kleenex and handed out tissues. I run with my own, but I appreciated her effort.
The second-biggest boost I got was from another runner. Right after I passed Zach, Emily and Regina for the second time, as I prepared to cross the Locust Street bridge, nausea hit me. I could see the finish line, and I still clung to hope that I'd break 2:00:00, but my stomach ...
So I stopped. Maybe swore under my breath. And a woman in a lime-green shirt came up from behind, put her hand on my back, and chirped: "You can do it! We're almost there!"
I picked up my feet and started running again. Thanks, random runner.
My only quibble was the opening/closing part of the Water Works Park section. You can see on this map that from about mile four to five, and from roughly eight to nine, that you had two-way traffic on your standard-width rec path.
I'm a little claustrophobic, and I was also feeling perky, so not being able to pass very well frustrated me. This was likely a good thing, to preserve some energy, but the crowd was big enough still at that point where it was physically difficult.
However, I will say that it was neat, and not at all discouraging, to watch an elite runner whiz by at his mile eight, which lined up around my pace group's mile four. Again, these guys literally run twice as fast as we mortals.
Last thing: I made sure to smile when I saw the race photographers. While I don't look like a monster, or a martyr, I still don't see why anyone would pay for these pictures ... but here's a link to them for your amusement.
Last thing: I made sure to smile when I saw the race photographers. While I don't look like a monster, or a martyr, I still don't see why anyone would pay for these pictures ... but here's a link to them for your amusement.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Early race report: Des Moines Half Marathon
As surely no one will blame me for, I'm not quite up to writing a full recap of yesterday's half marathon.
But for those who are curious — and to massage my own ego — I figured I could at least post some preliminary numbers:
My finish time was 2:00:20 (!), a pace of 9:12 overall. That placed me 162 out of 573 in my age/sex group, but more importantly, it's a personal record by 8:12.
No wonder I'm still tired today.
 |
| Waiting for the start, huddled together for warmth with temperatures in the 40s. Give me that over 60s any day, though. |
Friday, September 20, 2013
Third-period goal: Shake up my race routine
I wrote a post earlier this year about setting quarterly running goals (except I split the year into thirds ... so maybe trimesterly goals is more accurate).
Rereading it is funny to me for two reasons:
One, my predictions as to which I'd attain were way off. I expected to reach my 2:05:00 half marathon and ended up falling way short; I doubted I'd break my 5K PR of 26:22 and cleared that by almost a minute. As for pacing, I think I've gotten better ... just not during races.
Two, I never formally made any goals for May through August. I'd totally forgotten about the chunk approach to goal-setting until I started this post. Unofficially, I wanted to at least not give up on running through the end of RAGBRAI, and I attained that bare minimum, so we'll count that as a win.
Anyways, we've reached the third period of the year, and some idle thoughts over the past few weeks have formed a loosey-goosey goal: add more variety to racing.
I almost never did 5Ks before moving to Des Moines; since moving here, I've done four, soon to be five — which I think is directly linked to positive peer pressure. (Thanks, friends!)
I've found that with a little creativity, they can be loads of fun. Examples: add beer at the end; add dogs to the event; add costumes; add celeb treatment and barbecue.
I also used to think there was no point in my doing a 5K, because it was a distance I knew I could cover (no need to train), and because I didn't think I was capable of speed or making myself go fast. That's changed.
Now that I've been in town for a full year, too, I'm getting a better handle on what races to watch for. Applicable to my third-period blog post: the Halloween Hot Chocolate Race and the Sycamore 8. Applicable to next year: the Grand Blue Mile, Loop the Lake and the Maffitt Trail Race.
With all these fun things available in the spring ... and with two consecutive years of poor performance at spring half marathons ... I think I'm going to reverse the stance I took a few years back against fall half marathons.
I took that stance for two reasons: nearby race availability and a dislike of summer running. But the past two springs have reminded me that Midwest weather is unpredictable, and I think the summer-fall wackiness could work better with my strengths than the winter-spring wackiness.
So that's my plan for the rest of the year: keep an eye out for and an open mind toward new distances or race gimmicks. Oh, and continue trying to pace myself better.
Rereading it is funny to me for two reasons:
One, my predictions as to which I'd attain were way off. I expected to reach my 2:05:00 half marathon and ended up falling way short; I doubted I'd break my 5K PR of 26:22 and cleared that by almost a minute. As for pacing, I think I've gotten better ... just not during races.
Two, I never formally made any goals for May through August. I'd totally forgotten about the chunk approach to goal-setting until I started this post. Unofficially, I wanted to at least not give up on running through the end of RAGBRAI, and I attained that bare minimum, so we'll count that as a win.
Anyways, we've reached the third period of the year, and some idle thoughts over the past few weeks have formed a loosey-goosey goal: add more variety to racing.
I almost never did 5Ks before moving to Des Moines; since moving here, I've done four, soon to be five — which I think is directly linked to positive peer pressure. (Thanks, friends!)
I've found that with a little creativity, they can be loads of fun. Examples: add beer at the end; add dogs to the event; add costumes; add celeb treatment and barbecue.
I also used to think there was no point in my doing a 5K, because it was a distance I knew I could cover (no need to train), and because I didn't think I was capable of speed or making myself go fast. That's changed.
Now that I've been in town for a full year, too, I'm getting a better handle on what races to watch for. Applicable to my third-period blog post: the Halloween Hot Chocolate Race and the Sycamore 8. Applicable to next year: the Grand Blue Mile, Loop the Lake and the Maffitt Trail Race.
With all these fun things available in the spring ... and with two consecutive years of poor performance at spring half marathons ... I think I'm going to reverse the stance I took a few years back against fall half marathons.
I took that stance for two reasons: nearby race availability and a dislike of summer running. But the past two springs have reminded me that Midwest weather is unpredictable, and I think the summer-fall wackiness could work better with my strengths than the winter-spring wackiness.
So that's my plan for the rest of the year: keep an eye out for and an open mind toward new distances or race gimmicks. Oh, and continue trying to pace myself better.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Race recap: Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon
So as not to bury the lead, several race-day fears came true yesterday at the Hy-Vee half marathon.
I was comfortable in a T-shirt and shorts at the starting line, meaning the abrupt warmup I'd fretted about had indeed arrived. And the combination of adrenaline, wanting to break free from the crowd and a prolonged downhill stretch at the beginning meant I started far too strong.
Toss in misleading MapMyRun distances and paces (apparently I ran 13.75 miles at a 9:30 clip!), and you've got the makings of a letdown. Watch the slow, steady downward progress:
My 5K split was 28:33 (a 9:11 pace); 10K split was 58:40 (a 9:26 pace); 15K split was 1:29:30 (a 9:36 pace); and overall time was 2:10:33 (a 9:58 pace).
I'd rather focus on the positives, though, and the good news is that, once I literally cooled down, this wasn't even a struggle.
* Spectator signs were excellent. My favorite was "If this were easy, it would be called your mom," followed by "Worst parade ever :( " and "Run faster, I just farted."
(I would've smiled more at "Don't walk, people are watching," except that I indulged in walking and did not care who saw.)
* The friend factor was off the charts. Emily and Zach ran the half with me; we let Zach take off with the fast kids, but we ladies stuck together for not quite half of the race. Even though we hardly talked (she's an iPod runner), somehow it made the miles fly by.
After the race, I got to commiserate about the conditions with the friends who ran the half, and I was consoled/credited by those who didn't run the half, all along the lines of "Seriously, you just ran 13.1 miles. That's amazing. I can't even fathom doing that."
And both of those groups united for a long, leisurely post-race celebration.
* Post-race brunch was beyond amazing. We hit up Jethro's for a $6 all-you-can-eat brunch, and words cannot describe how amazing everything tasted ... for a beyond-reasonable price.
To top it off, we saw Huckleberry stroll by and mark a shrub as his, and there was this sign:
* Post-race beer was fantastic. One at Jethro's, a few more in a supportive friend's courtyard. There's no caloric guilt in having a few Summer Shandies after running 13.1 miles, right? And it's totally OK to drink your post-race fuel instead of eating it, right?
Overall, while I fell short physically and mentally during the race (I'm really sorry to everyone who heard me ask where the f*** the finish line was, or declare that this length was f***ing bulls***), I'm pleased with the lead-up and aftermath.
I trained my body well; it just so happened that race-day conditions didn't arrive until the taper period.
And with that, plus my embarrassment/frustration/anger at acknowledging hopes and dreams only to fall short, it was less than an hour before I was thinking and saying: "Maybe I can redeem myself at the Des Moines half this fall."
No declarations of "running sucks, I quit forever." It's just time to recuperate and think about RAGBRAI now.
I was comfortable in a T-shirt and shorts at the starting line, meaning the abrupt warmup I'd fretted about had indeed arrived. And the combination of adrenaline, wanting to break free from the crowd and a prolonged downhill stretch at the beginning meant I started far too strong.
Toss in misleading MapMyRun distances and paces (apparently I ran 13.75 miles at a 9:30 clip!), and you've got the makings of a letdown. Watch the slow, steady downward progress:
My 5K split was 28:33 (a 9:11 pace); 10K split was 58:40 (a 9:26 pace); 15K split was 1:29:30 (a 9:36 pace); and overall time was 2:10:33 (a 9:58 pace).
I'd rather focus on the positives, though, and the good news is that, once I literally cooled down, this wasn't even a struggle.
* Spectator signs were excellent. My favorite was "If this were easy, it would be called your mom," followed by "Worst parade ever :( " and "Run faster, I just farted."
(I would've smiled more at "Don't walk, people are watching," except that I indulged in walking and did not care who saw.)
* The friend factor was off the charts. Emily and Zach ran the half with me; we let Zach take off with the fast kids, but we ladies stuck together for not quite half of the race. Even though we hardly talked (she's an iPod runner), somehow it made the miles fly by.
 |
| No sweat, no scowls: This is obviously a pre-race photo. |
And both of those groups united for a long, leisurely post-race celebration.
* Post-race brunch was beyond amazing. We hit up Jethro's for a $6 all-you-can-eat brunch, and words cannot describe how amazing everything tasted ... for a beyond-reasonable price.
 |
| That first bite of bacon tasted soooo good. I might've wept for joy. The potatoes, which you can barely see, were the real star, though. Yes, those are Bloody Marys; no, I didn't finish mine after the first two sips. |
 |
| Don't worry. I left a tip. |
Overall, while I fell short physically and mentally during the race (I'm really sorry to everyone who heard me ask where the f*** the finish line was, or declare that this length was f***ing bulls***), I'm pleased with the lead-up and aftermath.
I trained my body well; it just so happened that race-day conditions didn't arrive until the taper period.
And with that, plus my embarrassment/frustration/anger at acknowledging hopes and dreams only to fall short, it was less than an hour before I was thinking and saying: "Maybe I can redeem myself at the Des Moines half this fall."
No declarations of "running sucks, I quit forever." It's just time to recuperate and think about RAGBRAI now.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
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 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.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The runner's tolerance
Most running comedy can be lumped into a few categories:
* Boy, you and your body sure do gross things when you run!
* Boy, I sure hear "You run? Why would you do such a thing?" an awful lot from nonrunners.
* Boy, I sure make my friends and family jump through a lot of hoops to accommodate my gross/weird hobby! (see the previous two bullet points)
I experience the first point, sadly, very often (and very publicly ... sorry if I've overshared with you). And I've inflicted the second and third – the former, in the past; the latter, more recently — on others.
In the past week, one of those roles got to be reversed, twice. Is it karma repaying me, or is it an opportunity to show off how tolerant I am of other runners? You be the judge. Probably depending on whether my running has inconvenienced you.
Two Mondays ago, co-worker and cat-sitter Emily stopped by to meet her feline charge. I told her that anytime after 7:30 p.m. was fine, and that she could just text when she was en route — there was no need to have our secretaries book appointments.
Around 7 that night, I received a text, which I'm paraphrasing because this morning's six-miler is sinking in, causing me to sink into the couch far from my phone: "I'm heading out for a run around Gray's Lake, and then I'll be over. Sorry if I'm stinky."
Even though I pride myself on my keen sense of smell, I was unconcerned about the idea of a sweaty guest. It's not like I haven't pulled a similar stunt, and without warning.
And come to think of it, if I didn't notice anything amiss during Emily's post-run visit, does that mean I'm not smellable from miles away after a run? Let us hope.
Then came yesterday, when blog guest star extraordinaire Ashlee flexed her new running muscles (figuratively and literally, though I wasn't witness to any literal flexing).
We were planning our Restaurant Week excursion, and Ashlee asked that we make reservations for 8 p.m. to allow for her gym visit. Because I suspected — correctly — that it was Color Run training and not swimming or ballroom dancing, I agreed (kidding! I support cross training!).
But at 7 p.m., the phone rang: Ashlee had worked out and cleaned up and was ready to enjoy Splash Seafood Bar & Grill a little earlier than anticipated. Delay dinner to allow for running? No problem. Move dinner back up? Even less of a problem.
I'd like to think I would've been just as tolerant even before I was running ... after all, my nonrunning friends seem to have been. But at least now I know I'm no hypocrite in this area of life!
* Boy, you and your body sure do gross things when you run!
* Boy, I sure hear "You run? Why would you do such a thing?" an awful lot from nonrunners.
* Boy, I sure make my friends and family jump through a lot of hoops to accommodate my gross/weird hobby! (see the previous two bullet points)
I experience the first point, sadly, very often (and very publicly ... sorry if I've overshared with you). And I've inflicted the second and third – the former, in the past; the latter, more recently — on others.
In the past week, one of those roles got to be reversed, twice. Is it karma repaying me, or is it an opportunity to show off how tolerant I am of other runners? You be the judge. Probably depending on whether my running has inconvenienced you.
 |
| Dusty, my little buddy, has almost nothing to do with running, but he's such a handsome guy that I wanted to show him off! |
Around 7 that night, I received a text, which I'm paraphrasing because this morning's six-miler is sinking in, causing me to sink into the couch far from my phone: "I'm heading out for a run around Gray's Lake, and then I'll be over. Sorry if I'm stinky."
Even though I pride myself on my keen sense of smell, I was unconcerned about the idea of a sweaty guest. It's not like I haven't pulled a similar stunt, and without warning.
And come to think of it, if I didn't notice anything amiss during Emily's post-run visit, does that mean I'm not smellable from miles away after a run? Let us hope.
Then came yesterday, when blog guest star extraordinaire Ashlee flexed her new running muscles (figuratively and literally, though I wasn't witness to any literal flexing).
We were planning our Restaurant Week excursion, and Ashlee asked that we make reservations for 8 p.m. to allow for her gym visit. Because I suspected — correctly — that it was Color Run training and not swimming or ballroom dancing, I agreed (kidding! I support cross training!).
But at 7 p.m., the phone rang: Ashlee had worked out and cleaned up and was ready to enjoy Splash Seafood Bar & Grill a little earlier than anticipated. Delay dinner to allow for running? No problem. Move dinner back up? Even less of a problem.
I'd like to think I would've been just as tolerant even before I was running ... after all, my nonrunning friends seem to have been. But at least now I know I'm no hypocrite in this area of life!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Making headlines
Ashlee, a friend and one of my Des Moines docents, shared happy news with me recently: The Road Runners Club of America designated my city as a Runner Friendly Community (one of four chosen in the second round of applications).
It didn't take me long to appreciate what was out here: wide, well-maintained sidewalks; easy access to extensive trails; money for upkeep (I've seen more closures for repairs in a month than I did in years of using the Long Prairie Trail); and frequent, clear signage (apparently a recent upgrade — more evidence that people in charge are paying attention).
And that's only a sampling of what Des Moines boasts for runners, according to the news release.
So glad to see national positive recognition for my adopted city, and that I can claim a tiny corner of said accolade ... not credit, but bragging rights and a sense of satisfaction each time I enjoy this runner-friendly land.
It didn't take me long to appreciate what was out here: wide, well-maintained sidewalks; easy access to extensive trails; money for upkeep (I've seen more closures for repairs in a month than I did in years of using the Long Prairie Trail); and frequent, clear signage (apparently a recent upgrade — more evidence that people in charge are paying attention).
And that's only a sampling of what Des Moines boasts for runners, according to the news release.
So glad to see national positive recognition for my adopted city, and that I can claim a tiny corner of said accolade ... not credit, but bragging rights and a sense of satisfaction each time I enjoy this runner-friendly land.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Introducing Little Runner to Des Moines
There are two types of tired that I’m acquainted with: the one that results from too little sleep, too much concentrating, too much stress; and the one that results from healthy exertion.
The former drains me, the latter invigorates and then calms me.
On my first day in Des Moines, two weeks ago today, I was floored by the first kind of tired. I’d stayed up late and risen early, packed my car and drove it 300 miles to unpack it, hopped back in a car and taken a winding tour of my new home that culminated in a restaurant dinner.
Everything had gone according to plan — except the wave of homesickness that washed over me after my meal, making me feel my exhaustion even more acutely. It was too early to go to bed, and it was too rude to leave my host so I could privately wallow in my gloom. What to do?
Run. Run with no expectation of time or strength or distance.
My host showed me a 3.5-mile loop that combined a rec trail and sidewalks, and off I went, hoping for no rain and no creeper sightings.
The first quarter-mile was physically downhill and emotionally uphill. Clouds, rain and chilly wind from earlier in the day had faded into a fresh-smelling, sherbet-colored summer evening.
After about a third of a mile, I reached the rec path trailhead. I ran along forests, flowers, a river, rabbits, reminding me of home but better: Already I’d noticed that Des Moines’ downtown and suburbs had more plentiful and vibrant options than back home; already I had a few Millennials offering (and being offered) to take me out; and now I could see that this three-mile loop was only a tiny taste of what I could explore on my two feet or my two bike wheels.
Dripping with sweat, I wrapped up my run in 34:28, a 9:50 pace, having conquered hills — both metaphorical and literal — on the way. For the second time that day, I was glad to be in Des Moines, but this time it had nothing to do with being freed from a car.
With that out of the way, welcome to Little Runner, Bigger City, where you’ll mostly read about (and probably laugh at) the snafus and speed bumps I still hit after three years of running.
Curious about those three years? Check out my former blog, Get Running.
Curious about only the notable moments of those three years? Read my race recaps.
The former drains me, the latter invigorates and then calms me.
On my first day in Des Moines, two weeks ago today, I was floored by the first kind of tired. I’d stayed up late and risen early, packed my car and drove it 300 miles to unpack it, hopped back in a car and taken a winding tour of my new home that culminated in a restaurant dinner.
Everything had gone according to plan — except the wave of homesickness that washed over me after my meal, making me feel my exhaustion even more acutely. It was too early to go to bed, and it was too rude to leave my host so I could privately wallow in my gloom. What to do?
Run. Run with no expectation of time or strength or distance.
My host showed me a 3.5-mile loop that combined a rec trail and sidewalks, and off I went, hoping for no rain and no creeper sightings.
The first quarter-mile was physically downhill and emotionally uphill. Clouds, rain and chilly wind from earlier in the day had faded into a fresh-smelling, sherbet-colored summer evening.
After about a third of a mile, I reached the rec path trailhead. I ran along forests, flowers, a river, rabbits, reminding me of home but better: Already I’d noticed that Des Moines’ downtown and suburbs had more plentiful and vibrant options than back home; already I had a few Millennials offering (and being offered) to take me out; and now I could see that this three-mile loop was only a tiny taste of what I could explore on my two feet or my two bike wheels.
 |
This was the view that won me over, photographed the next morning.
|
With that out of the way, welcome to Little Runner, Bigger City, where you’ll mostly read about (and probably laugh at) the snafus and speed bumps I still hit after three years of running.
Curious about those three years? Check out my former blog, Get Running.
Curious about only the notable moments of those three years? Read my race recaps.
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