Yesterday I compared my work schedule and the weather forecast with my training plan, and decided that I'd better get a workout in, even though I'd done two consecutive days of (short and fairly easy) running.
It was 30 degrees when I prepared to head out. That meant I put on my slightly thicker long-sleeved T-shirt but opted for the now-infamous purple scarf because it's thinner than my fleecy headbands.
I stepped outside at the same time as one of my neighbors, who smiled at me and said: "I can't even think about running this time of year."
I gave my usual two-pronged mild self-deprecation: that I can't handle a treadmill and that I can't handle starting out warm and getting warmer.
But I did so standing still, in a single layer of clothing, and felt OK — chilly, but not freezing. And I knew, once I started moving, that it would truly feel good outside.
I must really be an outdoor runner.
Showing posts with label clothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clothing. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Monday, March 2, 2015
Head games
In the early stages of half marathon training, the runs are short, easy and generally unnoteworthy.
So I have to write about my clothing instead — today, the items I wear to keep my head warm.
Headgear story No. 1: On Saturday, I went out midmorning, when temperatures were maybe in the low 20s. I wore a fleecy headband to keep the ears warm, which also makes for even sweatier hair.
When I got back into the apartment building, I started shedding sweaty layers — gloves, windbreaker and headband.
I expected to feel relief as warm and clean air hit my skin. Instead, I felt a tenderness along my scalp.
Huh? It turned out that a quarter-sized patch of ice had formed in my hair and fused it to the headband.
I bet I looked super-cool standing there with a headband dangling from the side of my head, while I waited for the ice to melt a little more.
Headgear story No. 2: On Wednesday, I put in my first "long run" — five miles, nothing to brag about — of the training cycle.
As I headed down Bulldog Hill, thinking excitedly about the food and shower that awaited me back home, I noticed a car slowing down alongside me.
I slowed down too, thinking the driver was going to turn left at an intersection we were approaching. But instead, its window rolled down, and a woman stuck her head out.
"HEY! Where did you get that purple scarf you're wearing?"
Yes, I have taken to dressing like a cartoon eastern European grandmother:
Because she caught me on the downhill, not the uphill, I was able to call back: "Sorry, my uncle gave it to me when I was 10 years old."
"Well, damn, it's a beautiful scarf!"
I had no idea I was such a fast-inista. Or that my uncle was so hip circa 1996. Good for us.
So I have to write about my clothing instead — today, the items I wear to keep my head warm.
Headgear story No. 1: On Saturday, I went out midmorning, when temperatures were maybe in the low 20s. I wore a fleecy headband to keep the ears warm, which also makes for even sweatier hair.
When I got back into the apartment building, I started shedding sweaty layers — gloves, windbreaker and headband.
I expected to feel relief as warm and clean air hit my skin. Instead, I felt a tenderness along my scalp.
Huh? It turned out that a quarter-sized patch of ice had formed in my hair and fused it to the headband.
I bet I looked super-cool standing there with a headband dangling from the side of my head, while I waited for the ice to melt a little more.
Headgear story No. 2: On Wednesday, I put in my first "long run" — five miles, nothing to brag about — of the training cycle.
As I headed down Bulldog Hill, thinking excitedly about the food and shower that awaited me back home, I noticed a car slowing down alongside me.
I slowed down too, thinking the driver was going to turn left at an intersection we were approaching. But instead, its window rolled down, and a woman stuck her head out.
"HEY! Where did you get that purple scarf you're wearing?"
Yes, I have taken to dressing like a cartoon eastern European grandmother:
 |
| Unsurprisingly, the woman did not ask about my skin care routine. |
"Well, damn, it's a beautiful scarf!"
I had no idea I was such a fast-inista. Or that my uncle was so hip circa 1996. Good for us.
Friday, January 30, 2015
A visit to the shoe store
Last time I bought running shoes, the sales guy suggested that I think about buying lighter-weight shoes to wear for my shorter runs, to save some wear on my primary pair.
I didn't feel like he was just trying to upsell me, but I also at the time didn't feel like buying two pairs of expensive shoes.
The thought stayed in the back of my mind, though, and resurfaced every time I thought about replacing my one pair.
And then news of Fitness Sports' super-sale arrived in the mailbox: at least 15 percent off shoes, up to 30 percent for some.
Time to take the plunge!
The pink ones are the Brooks Ghost 7 (if it ain't broke, don't fix it), for heavy-duty running.
The blue ones are a lighter-weight New Balance model, probably something from last year because they were 30 percent off.
Back when the sales guy mentioned having a second pair of shoes, my reluctance wasn't simply financial — it was also a bit of self-deprecation. I'm not that serious of a runner, I told myself.
I still, mostly, don't take myself too seriously as a runner. I'm solidly middle of the pack, purely an amateur and latecomer.
But I do put enough miles on one pair that having a short-distance model is worth a try ... especially because I tend to replace running shoes based on how much time has elapsed or how many seams are splitting.
If I spread the mileage out, maybe those measuring sticks will be a little more accurate.
I didn't feel like he was just trying to upsell me, but I also at the time didn't feel like buying two pairs of expensive shoes.
The thought stayed in the back of my mind, though, and resurfaced every time I thought about replacing my one pair.
And then news of Fitness Sports' super-sale arrived in the mailbox: at least 15 percent off shoes, up to 30 percent for some.
Time to take the plunge!
The pink ones are the Brooks Ghost 7 (if it ain't broke, don't fix it), for heavy-duty running.
The blue ones are a lighter-weight New Balance model, probably something from last year because they were 30 percent off.
Back when the sales guy mentioned having a second pair of shoes, my reluctance wasn't simply financial — it was also a bit of self-deprecation. I'm not that serious of a runner, I told myself.
I still, mostly, don't take myself too seriously as a runner. I'm solidly middle of the pack, purely an amateur and latecomer.
But I do put enough miles on one pair that having a short-distance model is worth a try ... especially because I tend to replace running shoes based on how much time has elapsed or how many seams are splitting.
If I spread the mileage out, maybe those measuring sticks will be a little more accurate.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
The return: Painful but rewarding
Five months ago, I signed off the blog, with an acknowledgment that it might be a Michael Jordan-esque retirement.
I don't remember missing it for quite some time, unless you count being mournfully touched when faithful readers told me that they missed it.
The decision to reboot lacks a quality explanation, just like the one to pull the plug did.
A writing assignment for The Des Moines Register on how to keep running through the winter probably deserves credit for laying subtle groundwork, but in total seriousness, I mostly just decided in recent days that I'd like to revive it.
(You know, the same way I started running — on a whim.)
My return to blogging coincides with my return to running in 2015.
Since I last blogged, I've notched very little of significance, mileage-wise and time-wise, but I did achieve the goals of making running fun for myself again and completing another Runner's World Holiday Run Streak.
After Jan. 1, I began my Post-Holiday Run-Free Streak. It was glorious. So was the weather, actually. Getting motivated to start running again is much easier when the sun is shining and temperatures reach the 40s and 50s.
My run last Saturday, the first since New Year's Day, was two flat miles in shorts. No walk breaks even necessary. It was a treat to run that day, not a chore, though my quads disagreed the next day.
Then on Tuesday, I ran the farthest I'd run all year: three miles. There were a few inclines, so I walked, but without guilt. (And without pants — shorts in January again!)
This time my calves and right hip complained a bit. I'm just about ready to go for a third shorts-in-January run, so we'll see what else has gotten rusty. Possibilities include: my bunions, my shoulders, my writing inspiration.
I don't remember missing it for quite some time, unless you count being mournfully touched when faithful readers told me that they missed it.
The decision to reboot lacks a quality explanation, just like the one to pull the plug did.
A writing assignment for The Des Moines Register on how to keep running through the winter probably deserves credit for laying subtle groundwork, but in total seriousness, I mostly just decided in recent days that I'd like to revive it.
(You know, the same way I started running — on a whim.)
My return to blogging coincides with my return to running in 2015.
Since I last blogged, I've notched very little of significance, mileage-wise and time-wise, but I did achieve the goals of making running fun for myself again and completing another Runner's World Holiday Run Streak.
After Jan. 1, I began my Post-Holiday Run-Free Streak. It was glorious. So was the weather, actually. Getting motivated to start running again is much easier when the sun is shining and temperatures reach the 40s and 50s.
My run last Saturday, the first since New Year's Day, was two flat miles in shorts. No walk breaks even necessary. It was a treat to run that day, not a chore, though my quads disagreed the next day.
Then on Tuesday, I ran the farthest I'd run all year: three miles. There were a few inclines, so I walked, but without guilt. (And without pants — shorts in January again!)
This time my calves and right hip complained a bit. I'm just about ready to go for a third shorts-in-January run, so we'll see what else has gotten rusty. Possibilities include: my bunions, my shoulders, my writing inspiration.
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, April 16, 2014
The ultimate carbo-loading experience
You might've noticed that my posts for the past week and a half didn't actually mention any runs I'd gone on.
That's because I haven't run in more than two weeks, during which time I was busy prepping for, going on and recovering from a week-plus visit to Italy with my sister!
Our trip was every bit as fantastic as one would expect, full of beautiful architecture, delicious food and drink, sunshine (take that, polar vortex!), amazingly ancient history all around us ... and runners.
I don't know why the sight of runners surprised me. I'd seen running tours for Venice advertised, and I've read about marathons in Rome.
Maybe it was the contrast with la dolce vita that caught me off guard — and before anyone suggests that Italians might need to burn off all that gelato and pasta, let me be the millionth person to point out that they do a lot more travel by foot and by bike than most Americans do.
Or maybe it was just their odd gear that made me do double-takes. I swear at least half of them were running in biking shorts, and more than a few were in what appeared to be everyday shirts.
They're a very well-dressed nation, no doubt, but why ruin those stylish tops with sweat? At least the odd outfits I saw in West Des Moines were athletic-gear-based.
Unlike when I went to London, I didn't feel the slightest twinge of envy watching Italian runners, though.
I was getting enough exercise not just walking, but also climbing monuments and ruins on sometimes-uneven pavement, and I think my mind needed a break from my 5K dud and from training during the polar vortex.
But I was happy to see runners. I'm so used to feeling like my leisure activity is scorned (even I call it a stupid hobby) that if a nation known for appreciating the finer things is engaging in it frequently, that's a huge selling point for our community.
Did you miss posts because I wasn't plugging them on Twitter and Facebook? Here's what went up in my absence.
April 5: Reflections on 5K training plans
April 7: Upcoming race: Grand Blue Mile
April 9: Running crafts are complete
April 11: Upcoming race: Woofin' It 5K
April 13: Second installment of 2014's quarterly goals
That's because I haven't run in more than two weeks, during which time I was busy prepping for, going on and recovering from a week-plus visit to Italy with my sister!
 |
| At the Forum — one of my favorite spots — in Rome. We'd already done the Colosseum, which you can see in the background. |
I don't know why the sight of runners surprised me. I'd seen running tours for Venice advertised, and I've read about marathons in Rome.
Maybe it was the contrast with la dolce vita that caught me off guard — and before anyone suggests that Italians might need to burn off all that gelato and pasta, let me be the millionth person to point out that they do a lot more travel by foot and by bike than most Americans do.
 |
| Authentic margherita pizza in Naples. This restaurant — L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele — was the one featured in "Eat, Pray, Love" and was every bit as delicious as depicted. |
They're a very well-dressed nation, no doubt, but why ruin those stylish tops with sweat? At least the odd outfits I saw in West Des Moines were athletic-gear-based.
Unlike when I went to London, I didn't feel the slightest twinge of envy watching Italian runners, though.
I was getting enough exercise not just walking, but also climbing monuments and ruins on sometimes-uneven pavement, and I think my mind needed a break from my 5K dud and from training during the polar vortex.
But I was happy to see runners. I'm so used to feeling like my leisure activity is scorned (even I call it a stupid hobby) that if a nation known for appreciating the finer things is engaging in it frequently, that's a huge selling point for our community.
* * *
Did you miss posts because I wasn't plugging them on Twitter and Facebook? Here's what went up in my absence.
April 5: Reflections on 5K training plans
April 7: Upcoming race: Grand Blue Mile
April 9: Running crafts are complete
April 11: Upcoming race: Woofin' It 5K
April 13: Second installment of 2014's quarterly goals
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Running crafts are complete
I have officially finished the running-schwag crafts that I declared I would do months ago!
The T-shirt pillows are now complete. Behold the fruits of my labor:
When I googled "T-shirt pillow" at my crafting companion's apartment to find the written instructions I meant to use, I discovered video results for no-sew projects.
Out went plan A, and in came plan B with much improvisation and little measuring. (I wasn't going to watch a 10-minute video late in the "crafternoon.")
Somehow both turned into socially acceptable pillows, despite the slipperiness of tech T-shirts and my lack of fancy slicing equipment during the Arny Johnson project's creation.
What to do next? Well, I'm adding quite a few bibs to my holder, and maybe those T-shirts will end up in a second quilt.
Or maybe I could just hit the pavement instead.
The T-shirt pillows are now complete. Behold the fruits of my labor:
When I googled "T-shirt pillow" at my crafting companion's apartment to find the written instructions I meant to use, I discovered video results for no-sew projects.
Out went plan A, and in came plan B with much improvisation and little measuring. (I wasn't going to watch a 10-minute video late in the "crafternoon.")
Somehow both turned into socially acceptable pillows, despite the slipperiness of tech T-shirts and my lack of fancy slicing equipment during the Arny Johnson project's creation.
 |
| Dusty approves of my work. |
Or maybe I could just hit the pavement instead.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Shorts report for February
My optimism — or lack of pessimism — about February's temperatures back in January seems to have been a little misplaced:
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.
Well, yeah, I did, but that was true of a few glorious days in January too, I think.
To take a more positive view of the past month, I guess we didn't have as many weather warnings as in January ... and I know that the shorts count was higher despite having fewer days in the month.
I got to wear shorts four times on outdoor runs this month: Feb. 13, 17, 18 and 19. Two of those days were even short-sleeve days to boot.
January's total was only three, which really, given that I live in the Midwest, is nothing to scoff at.
Still, while I'm not itching to wear shorts in day-to-day life, I am definitely hoping for more running-shorts weather in March ...
... unless the warmup reveals that I'm just not as fit as I was last time I did a 5K, in which case — leave me my cold-weather crutch, please.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Preserving my race schwag
After Karla posted about her own race-souvenir craft project, I was inspired to post about my own.
(I mean, it's still cold in Des Moines, and 5K training is just underway, so I thought readers might enjoy something different.)
The motivation to do these projects has been slowly percolating since before Christmas, and it took until mid-January to complete one: race-medal magnets.
I debated doing this versus hanging them on a bib-and-medal display, but the functionality of magnets won out over the cute Pinterest/Etsy images — I have a full-sized fridge, and our cubbies at work are actually magnetic.
Also, it was incredibly easy for someone who has barely crafted since her braces came off.
What to do with all the bibs? I bounced around on this, too. There are neat ideas for coasters, special photo album-like books and of course the bib-and-medal displays. Oh, and Mod Podging things.
Ultimately I decided to make my own bib display plaque, because it seemed cost-effective, within my skill level and, most importantly, easiest to constantly add to.
I've got almost all the materials: paint, stencils, brushes, slogan ("don't think; just go") and stack o' bibs. I'll worry about the clips once I make it past this stage.
Furthest from fruition are the race T-shirt pillows. This inspiration was born of necessity.
I wear most of my race T-shirts, except for the handful that really don't fit me. I could use them as dirty-chore T-shirts or PJ tops, except I have plenty of those already — and they're more comfortable.
What about squares for a T-shirt quilt? Nope; you can't iron technical T-shirts, unless you want to potentially gunk up your iron.
So I turned to Google for help. And sure enough, the Internet delivered this DIY tutorial.
At some point, I'll be converting my Arny Johnson 10-miler and Alexandria Running Festival Half Marathon shirts into throw pillows (OK, realistically, into cat pillows). I enjoyed both those races, so I'll be happy to see reminders of them lying around my apartment.
On the flip side, that leaves two shirts I might donate even though no one wants to wear a T-shirt from an event they didn't do: my Rockford and Drake Relays half shirts. In addition to both being miserable race experiences, the Drake shirt is maternity-sized on me.
I'll be taking suggestions ... or just lining the cats' carriers with them. Seems appropriate to put their hated "pet taxis" with my unhappy memories of sweating up endless hills.
(I mean, it's still cold in Des Moines, and 5K training is just underway, so I thought readers might enjoy something different.)
The motivation to do these projects has been slowly percolating since before Christmas, and it took until mid-January to complete one: race-medal magnets.
I debated doing this versus hanging them on a bib-and-medal display, but the functionality of magnets won out over the cute Pinterest/Etsy images — I have a full-sized fridge, and our cubbies at work are actually magnetic.
Also, it was incredibly easy for someone who has barely crafted since her braces came off.
 |
| In chronological order of when they were received. Technically two of them are NOT participation awards; one race ran out of medals before it did finishers. |
Ultimately I decided to make my own bib display plaque, because it seemed cost-effective, within my skill level and, most importantly, easiest to constantly add to.
I've got almost all the materials: paint, stencils, brushes, slogan ("don't think; just go") and stack o' bibs. I'll worry about the clips once I make it past this stage.
Furthest from fruition are the race T-shirt pillows. This inspiration was born of necessity.
I wear most of my race T-shirts, except for the handful that really don't fit me. I could use them as dirty-chore T-shirts or PJ tops, except I have plenty of those already — and they're more comfortable.
What about squares for a T-shirt quilt? Nope; you can't iron technical T-shirts, unless you want to potentially gunk up your iron.
So I turned to Google for help. And sure enough, the Internet delivered this DIY tutorial.
At some point, I'll be converting my Arny Johnson 10-miler and Alexandria Running Festival Half Marathon shirts into throw pillows (OK, realistically, into cat pillows). I enjoyed both those races, so I'll be happy to see reminders of them lying around my apartment.
 |
| One former PR, one current-because-I-haven't-done-that-distance-since PR! |
I'll be taking suggestions ... or just lining the cats' carriers with them. Seems appropriate to put their hated "pet taxis" with my unhappy memories of sweating up endless hills.
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!
 |
| 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.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Recovering from hibernation and from that first run after
My brain is happy to report that hibernation ended Sunday. My muscles are now, finally, no longer annoyed to share that same news.
I lucked out majorly by picking Sunday as the day to quit plowing through holiday leftovers and move off the couch: Highs in the mid-40s called for shorts in January!
We went for an easy route, with no shame. The out-and-back from my place to Salisbury House and back was about 3.25 miles, with only short, slight hills. (We did have to leap over puddles quite a bit, though, so — sarcasm — we're not total slackers.)
Based on Cory's criticism of his own first post-hibernation run and my own experiences returning to running, I'd expected to suffer quite a bit. For me, though, the misery didn't hit until later.
I was a dutiful runner and made sure to stretch afterward, but that didn't prevent the stiffness in my upper lower body and the soreness around my shins/ankles.
However, I was lazy and didn't use the foam roller until Tuesday — um, for the first time since sometime in November — and holy moly was that a punishment. Surprisingly, it was my quads and not my IT bands that suffered the most (IT band was second-most painful).
The best part of course was re-realizing how much pleasant/chatty I feel on days that I run. Too bad that doesn't linger like the aches in unused muscles do.
I lucked out majorly by picking Sunday as the day to quit plowing through holiday leftovers and move off the couch: Highs in the mid-40s called for shorts in January!
We went for an easy route, with no shame. The out-and-back from my place to Salisbury House and back was about 3.25 miles, with only short, slight hills. (We did have to leap over puddles quite a bit, though, so — sarcasm — we're not total slackers.)
Based on Cory's criticism of his own first post-hibernation run and my own experiences returning to running, I'd expected to suffer quite a bit. For me, though, the misery didn't hit until later.
I was a dutiful runner and made sure to stretch afterward, but that didn't prevent the stiffness in my upper lower body and the soreness around my shins/ankles.
However, I was lazy and didn't use the foam roller until Tuesday — um, for the first time since sometime in November — and holy moly was that a punishment. Surprisingly, it was my quads and not my IT bands that suffered the most (IT band was second-most painful).
The best part of course was re-realizing how much pleasant/chatty I feel on days that I run. Too bad that doesn't linger like the aches in unused muscles do.
Monday, December 30, 2013
A look back at my year of running
Every time I do one of these, it makes me feel like I'm in middle school/high school again and am filling out those surveys you used to forward to all your friends.
But the slight discomfort with most early 2000s flashbacks is overpowered by the millennial love of sharing my special snowflake-ness with you all.
Also, it's nice when other bloggers help you write your own posts. So from Miss Zippy via Pavement Runner, here is my year of running.
Best race experience? Tough question, because I didn't do a single race by myself this year, I only truly bombed one, and I had three personal-record-setting races.
As far as the actual experiences go, though, I have to set the Woofin' It 5K and the Boone County History 5K Run/Walk apart.
Unlike with PR-setting races, or simply races that were freakin' hard, the challenges in these races were always inherently funny: Of course it's hard to run up a hill when an energetic large dog is pulling you (and you're not on roller skates)! Of course wearing an old towel that's masquerading as a toga will slow you down in the August heat and humidity!
I'm not knocking serious races or completely noncompetitive ones (like the Glow Run or Color Run), but both of these had the right combination of pushing myself and enjoying myself. Particularly because one came right after the Drake Relays disaster.
Plus, the causes were close to my heart: Furry Friends Refuge and our good buddy Pam's employer.
Best run? Either I'm getting old and forgetful, or I just run too much to keep many individual ones straight. So I'm going to pick the early spring run at Raccoon River Park with Regina, Emily and Zach, because of how it broke the seal on social running for me.
I rarely ran with others back in Rockton. In 1.5 years in Des Moines, I'm sure I've done as many group runs, if not more, than in the 3.5 years I ran in Illinois ... counting races.
I knew making plans to run with others would hold me more accountable, but I had no idea it would also prove to be a fun way to spend time with people.
Best new piece of gear? My Halo headband, which I bought for RAGBRAI and continued to use the rest of the year. It's officially my favorite sweatband.
Best piece of running advice you received? Definitely the rhythmic breathing method, which I read about in Runner's World this spring.
It's significantly reduced the aches and pains I would feel on one side of the body but not the other, and focusing on syncing my breath and feet helps pace me better. I don't even care if it turns out to be 100 percent placebo effect — the benefits for me are real.
Most inspirational runner? I should be able to list off Boston Marathon bombing survivors or any of the people who tend to be featured in a Runner's World article, but right now, the one that sticks in my brain the most is Katie of run this amazing day.
In her most recent Ironman attempt, another biker hit her, possibly breaking her arm, near the end of the bike portion of the race. And she still ran the marathon portion, passing people while she did it.
If I can continue to treat this like an essay test and not a fill-in-the-blank, though, I'd like to add that my friends who push their limits — either by starting to run, returning to running or taking the marathon plunge — inspire me as well. Thanks, guys!
If you could sum up your year in a couple of words, what would they be? Better than ever.
This was definitely a breakthrough year: I notched quite a few PRs; maybe more importantly, it seemed like most runs were generally good ones in terms of performance and how I felt; and I cultivated a group with whom I could run and do races.
When I realized that I'd been running for about five years this past fall, I half-believed it, but now, I fully believe it — because things are certainly clicking.
But the slight discomfort with most early 2000s flashbacks is overpowered by the millennial love of sharing my special snowflake-ness with you all.
Also, it's nice when other bloggers help you write your own posts. So from Miss Zippy via Pavement Runner, here is my year of running.
Best race experience? Tough question, because I didn't do a single race by myself this year, I only truly bombed one, and I had three personal-record-setting races.
As far as the actual experiences go, though, I have to set the Woofin' It 5K and the Boone County History 5K Run/Walk apart.
Unlike with PR-setting races, or simply races that were freakin' hard, the challenges in these races were always inherently funny: Of course it's hard to run up a hill when an energetic large dog is pulling you (and you're not on roller skates)! Of course wearing an old towel that's masquerading as a toga will slow you down in the August heat and humidity!
I'm not knocking serious races or completely noncompetitive ones (like the Glow Run or Color Run), but both of these had the right combination of pushing myself and enjoying myself. Particularly because one came right after the Drake Relays disaster.
Plus, the causes were close to my heart: Furry Friends Refuge and our good buddy Pam's employer.
Best run? Either I'm getting old and forgetful, or I just run too much to keep many individual ones straight. So I'm going to pick the early spring run at Raccoon River Park with Regina, Emily and Zach, because of how it broke the seal on social running for me.
I rarely ran with others back in Rockton. In 1.5 years in Des Moines, I'm sure I've done as many group runs, if not more, than in the 3.5 years I ran in Illinois ... counting races.
I knew making plans to run with others would hold me more accountable, but I had no idea it would also prove to be a fun way to spend time with people.
Best new piece of gear? My Halo headband, which I bought for RAGBRAI and continued to use the rest of the year. It's officially my favorite sweatband.
Best piece of running advice you received? Definitely the rhythmic breathing method, which I read about in Runner's World this spring.
It's significantly reduced the aches and pains I would feel on one side of the body but not the other, and focusing on syncing my breath and feet helps pace me better. I don't even care if it turns out to be 100 percent placebo effect — the benefits for me are real.
Most inspirational runner? I should be able to list off Boston Marathon bombing survivors or any of the people who tend to be featured in a Runner's World article, but right now, the one that sticks in my brain the most is Katie of run this amazing day.
In her most recent Ironman attempt, another biker hit her, possibly breaking her arm, near the end of the bike portion of the race. And she still ran the marathon portion, passing people while she did it.
If I can continue to treat this like an essay test and not a fill-in-the-blank, though, I'd like to add that my friends who push their limits — either by starting to run, returning to running or taking the marathon plunge — inspire me as well. Thanks, guys!
If you could sum up your year in a couple of words, what would they be? Better than ever.
This was definitely a breakthrough year: I notched quite a few PRs; maybe more importantly, it seemed like most runs were generally good ones in terms of performance and how I felt; and I cultivated a group with whom I could run and do races.
When I realized that I'd been running for about five years this past fall, I half-believed it, but now, I fully believe it — because things are certainly clicking.
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:
 |
| 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.
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.
 |
| 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.
 |
| 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.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Living History Farms Race photos
Yesterday we binged — on food and on words about running. Today we hold back.
To close the book on Living History Farms 2013: When Matt, our '70s representative, checked the weather shortly before race time, he found that the temperature was 13 ... but the wind chill was 6 below.
How did we flower children survive?
 |
| The '80s, the '90s and the '60s, before we set off to find the '70s. |
 |
| I made the bell bottoms. Seriously. That's how I prioritized my time during a cross-town move. |
 |
| We had our photo taken as a group after the race, but Regina's phone ate the evidence, and none of my neighbors were around to take a group shot in the hall of my soon-to-be-former apartment complex. |
 |
| Gross. |
How did we flower children survive?
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Belated race report: Living History Farms Race
What am I grateful for this Thanksgiving? Well, a number of things, but the most relevant one to this post and blog audience is that I did the Living History Farms Race and that I survived.
(I'm also grateful that if I had to plunk a race in the middle of a week's worth of moving/unpacking, it was one that didn't require a serious training plan. There's my excuse for my silence.)
So about Living History Farms. People warned me about the bottlenecks, the costumes and the water crossings. I listened closely and believed them, but there are some things one must experience to truly understand.
The bottlenecks worked to our advantage, in one respect, because one member of the team hadn't ever run more than three miles, and another had maxed out at four miles. There may have been equal parts running and walking in this race from our team, but almost none of it can be blamed on fitness.
The bad part of it, duh, was that we were moving slower in less-than-ideal conditions. Also, beyond the cold, the terrain made me nostalgic for the forest preserves back in Rockton and what a fun challenge running there was. When else will I look back on difficult running with such fondness?
As for the costumes, I was pleased with how well our team members managed to represent our respective decades -- yep, that was our theme -- despite our last-minute tendencies and the incredible cold.
Other runners definitely delivered on the costume front as well. I was surprised to see nearly naked guys committed to their plans of being nearly naked, but I guess I shouldn't have been. The costume that made me laugh the most, though, was the adult African-American man dressed as Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz."
Close runners-up were the people who wore plastic butt cheeks on the outside of their tights, but they lose points because I had to stare at that ridiculous image as I scrambled up a hill that I honestly was afraid I'd slide back down.
And now for the water crossings and, equally important, the actual weather reading. I'd read online that there would be eight crossings and that midday highs would be in the low 20s ... but very little prepares you for that reality.
Neither, honestly, was quite as bad as I expected. The first creek was fairly shallow; the second and third ones (back to back) were deep and made me yell for quite a few yards afterward; and after that, it became a point of pride.
The prerace warning of a crotch-deep creek never came to fruition, unless someone shorter than me was the measuring stick (unlikely), but the warning of "wear shoes you don't want anymore" was spot-on. RIP, pink Brooks Ghosts.
My biggest hurdle with the water and temperature was self-inflicted: The flares on my bell bottoms froze after the second-third creek crossing, so instead of merely kicking the cloth out of the way as I climbed a hill, I nearly tripped a few times. CLOP-CLOP-CLOP was how I sounded at the end.
Now for my great reveal, for those not there. The temperature at the end of the race? 16 degrees.
And by "end of the race," I mean that we took off at 9 a.m., ran/walked/climbed/waded for 2:23:01, had a bowl of beef stew and walked back to the car to check our phones ... at THAT point, it was 16 degrees.
Before the race, I was a little cold and a little whiny; during the race, I was a little cold when the wind blew and a little whiny; after the race, I was absolutely freezing -- like, my fingers were painful -- and absolutely insistent that we get into the car as soon as possible.
OK, so what does all this rambling mean, as far as my experience goes? As I said earlier, I'm glad I did it ... but I'm perfectly fine never doing it again.
I like completing/attending Des Moines' signature events, and having teams at them is definitely a bonus. Doing LHF this year -- without skipping a single water obstacle -- earns us some serious bragging rights, especially when more than 1,000 runners backed out because of the weather.
But I think I prefer the challenge of running the entire length, or of pushing myself to finish as fast as possible, to having the quirks of LHF or the Warrior Dash.
To come full (enormous) circle? I'm grateful for the discipline that training-required races provide, for the huge sense of accomplishment they give me afterward and for the light-hearted races in between that make me realize this.
(I'm also grateful that if I had to plunk a race in the middle of a week's worth of moving/unpacking, it was one that didn't require a serious training plan. There's my excuse for my silence.)
So about Living History Farms. People warned me about the bottlenecks, the costumes and the water crossings. I listened closely and believed them, but there are some things one must experience to truly understand.
The bottlenecks worked to our advantage, in one respect, because one member of the team hadn't ever run more than three miles, and another had maxed out at four miles. There may have been equal parts running and walking in this race from our team, but almost none of it can be blamed on fitness.
The bad part of it, duh, was that we were moving slower in less-than-ideal conditions. Also, beyond the cold, the terrain made me nostalgic for the forest preserves back in Rockton and what a fun challenge running there was. When else will I look back on difficult running with such fondness?
As for the costumes, I was pleased with how well our team members managed to represent our respective decades -- yep, that was our theme -- despite our last-minute tendencies and the incredible cold.
Other runners definitely delivered on the costume front as well. I was surprised to see nearly naked guys committed to their plans of being nearly naked, but I guess I shouldn't have been. The costume that made me laugh the most, though, was the adult African-American man dressed as Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz."
Close runners-up were the people who wore plastic butt cheeks on the outside of their tights, but they lose points because I had to stare at that ridiculous image as I scrambled up a hill that I honestly was afraid I'd slide back down.
And now for the water crossings and, equally important, the actual weather reading. I'd read online that there would be eight crossings and that midday highs would be in the low 20s ... but very little prepares you for that reality.
Neither, honestly, was quite as bad as I expected. The first creek was fairly shallow; the second and third ones (back to back) were deep and made me yell for quite a few yards afterward; and after that, it became a point of pride.
The prerace warning of a crotch-deep creek never came to fruition, unless someone shorter than me was the measuring stick (unlikely), but the warning of "wear shoes you don't want anymore" was spot-on. RIP, pink Brooks Ghosts.
My biggest hurdle with the water and temperature was self-inflicted: The flares on my bell bottoms froze after the second-third creek crossing, so instead of merely kicking the cloth out of the way as I climbed a hill, I nearly tripped a few times. CLOP-CLOP-CLOP was how I sounded at the end.
Now for my great reveal, for those not there. The temperature at the end of the race? 16 degrees.
And by "end of the race," I mean that we took off at 9 a.m., ran/walked/climbed/waded for 2:23:01, had a bowl of beef stew and walked back to the car to check our phones ... at THAT point, it was 16 degrees.
Before the race, I was a little cold and a little whiny; during the race, I was a little cold when the wind blew and a little whiny; after the race, I was absolutely freezing -- like, my fingers were painful -- and absolutely insistent that we get into the car as soon as possible.
OK, so what does all this rambling mean, as far as my experience goes? As I said earlier, I'm glad I did it ... but I'm perfectly fine never doing it again.
I like completing/attending Des Moines' signature events, and having teams at them is definitely a bonus. Doing LHF this year -- without skipping a single water obstacle -- earns us some serious bragging rights, especially when more than 1,000 runners backed out because of the weather.
But I think I prefer the challenge of running the entire length, or of pushing myself to finish as fast as possible, to having the quirks of LHF or the Warrior Dash.
To come full (enormous) circle? I'm grateful for the discipline that training-required races provide, for the huge sense of accomplishment they give me afterward and for the light-hearted races in between that make me realize this.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
I'm getting cold feet, literally
It was only a few days ago that I looked at the 10-day weather forecast and saw little chance of precipitation and highs in the 40s for Saturday's Living History Farms run.
My celebration was premature, however. Depending on which forecast I look at, the highs are in the mid-20s to maybe 30, if we're lucky.
A co-worker who's survived Living History Farms about four times offered some words of encouragement, when I suggested that perhaps this was not the best reason to use my final vacation day of 2013: "When it's that cold, the mud won't be muddy anymore. And the creeks might be frozen too!"
I'm not being sarcastic when I say that is somewhat comforting: I don't like getting my feet wet. (OK, I generally don't like being wet outside of the shower or the hot tub.)
That means the run will likely be fine — once I get going in the cold, I warm up pretty quickly. And on race day, getting going isn't as much of a challenge as it is during everyday runs ("just one more chapter/blog post, then I run").
It's the waiting around before the race that I dread.
I'm doing night-before packet pickup, so that will shave some time off the amount I'll need to huddle with my teammates in hopes of not freezing.
But that walk to the start ... and any extra time we left to make sure we'd get there in time ... I have a feeling that some profane and grumpy language will be used.
End whining, cue bragging: At least I won't be alone — Regina and Cory will be braving the cold with me — and at least we came up with a cohesive, warm costume idea for our team.
My victory as Julius Caesar continues to inspire me, and I'm putting forth some actual effort on the costume. Stay tuned for the great reveal!
My celebration was premature, however. Depending on which forecast I look at, the highs are in the mid-20s to maybe 30, if we're lucky.
A co-worker who's survived Living History Farms about four times offered some words of encouragement, when I suggested that perhaps this was not the best reason to use my final vacation day of 2013: "When it's that cold, the mud won't be muddy anymore. And the creeks might be frozen too!"
I'm not being sarcastic when I say that is somewhat comforting: I don't like getting my feet wet. (OK, I generally don't like being wet outside of the shower or the hot tub.)
That means the run will likely be fine — once I get going in the cold, I warm up pretty quickly. And on race day, getting going isn't as much of a challenge as it is during everyday runs ("just one more chapter/blog post, then I run").
It's the waiting around before the race that I dread.
I'm doing night-before packet pickup, so that will shave some time off the amount I'll need to huddle with my teammates in hopes of not freezing.
But that walk to the start ... and any extra time we left to make sure we'd get there in time ... I have a feeling that some profane and grumpy language will be used.
End whining, cue bragging: At least I won't be alone — Regina and Cory will be braving the cold with me — and at least we came up with a cohesive, warm costume idea for our team.
My victory as Julius Caesar continues to inspire me, and I'm putting forth some actual effort on the costume. Stay tuned for the great reveal!
Monday, November 11, 2013
The puzzle of what to wear
The past two times I've gone running, I've had an uncomfortable realization:
Those people I secretly laughed at for being so overdressed? I, right now, am one of them.
Each time I've set out in tights, a windbreaker, a fuzzy hat and gloves, I've ended the run wishing I'd left at least two, if not three, of those items at home.
One run even found me bundling the gloves and hat in my windbreaker as I slogged up a hill, the sweat pouring unchecked down my face.
I bet those drivers on Westown Parkway were totally inspired to pick up running, after watching that spectacle. (Sarcasm.)
Is this better or worse than the too-cold run to which my overdressing is reacting? Probably, because overdressing at least gets me out the door. Right now, this Viking princess is more princess than Viking.
But all self-deprecation aside — I know, when I'm not alternately thinking "SO HOT" and "I hate running," that it just takes a few runs to fine-tune my winter clothing strategy.
I'll also choose to believe, in lieu of lumping myself in with the springtime windbreaker-and-earmuff-wearers, that I overheated because I ran such smart routes: The same obsession with weather.com that uncovered "feels like 35," sending panic through my veins, also showed me the wind direction.
That meant I planned my loop going into the wind, then returning with it at my back, as running gurus have advised. So when my overheated body turned around to head home, it at least stayed too warm instead of turning into an icicle made of sweat (a sweatsicle?).
Those people I secretly laughed at for being so overdressed? I, right now, am one of them.
Each time I've set out in tights, a windbreaker, a fuzzy hat and gloves, I've ended the run wishing I'd left at least two, if not three, of those items at home.
One run even found me bundling the gloves and hat in my windbreaker as I slogged up a hill, the sweat pouring unchecked down my face.
I bet those drivers on Westown Parkway were totally inspired to pick up running, after watching that spectacle. (Sarcasm.)
 |
| The offending hat and windbreaker. This is my "I-don't-wanna-go-run!" face. The "too-hot!" face is much redder and wetter. |
But all self-deprecation aside — I know, when I'm not alternately thinking "SO HOT" and "I hate running," that it just takes a few runs to fine-tune my winter clothing strategy.
I'll also choose to believe, in lieu of lumping myself in with the springtime windbreaker-and-earmuff-wearers, that I overheated because I ran such smart routes: The same obsession with weather.com that uncovered "feels like 35," sending panic through my veins, also showed me the wind direction.
That meant I planned my loop going into the wind, then returning with it at my back, as running gurus have advised. So when my overheated body turned around to head home, it at least stayed too warm instead of turning into an icicle made of sweat (a sweatsicle?).
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
The way to a runner's heart is through her foot
Confession: I don't usually use much, if anything, in my race-day bag.
If it *is* a bag, like my Drake Relays gear bag or my Boone County History 5K lunch pail, I'll use it. And I'll probably wear the shirt that comes along with it.
But all those ointment samples, coupons for fitness stores and magazines? Well, I appreciate the thought at least ...
So it is with much excitement that I found something to use and reuse in my Des Moines Half Marathon bag (I might've picked it up at the expo): a keyholder for your shoes.
Until now, the drawstring on shorts/tights has been my savior, but when I have to bring my car keys, that gets rather bulky. To my great surprise, the bundle of a car key, two apartment keys and two loyalty cards fit perfectly in the free keyholder.
I tested it on a recent run through Water Works Park (on a trail that wasn't part of the half) and figured that even if I hated it, I could use the clip on my waistband instead.
No need! The pouch didn't flop around, making me both annoyed and fearful that I'd lose it, and it didn't seem to keep the top of my foot from flexing.
Yeah, I could've bought one of those at any point over the past five years and avoided the complaints I just listed off. But I didn't, and now I don't have to — and I can catch one last post-race high weeks later.
If it *is* a bag, like my Drake Relays gear bag or my Boone County History 5K lunch pail, I'll use it. And I'll probably wear the shirt that comes along with it.
But all those ointment samples, coupons for fitness stores and magazines? Well, I appreciate the thought at least ...
So it is with much excitement that I found something to use and reuse in my Des Moines Half Marathon bag (I might've picked it up at the expo): a keyholder for your shoes.
Until now, the drawstring on shorts/tights has been my savior, but when I have to bring my car keys, that gets rather bulky. To my great surprise, the bundle of a car key, two apartment keys and two loyalty cards fit perfectly in the free keyholder.
I tested it on a recent run through Water Works Park (on a trail that wasn't part of the half) and figured that even if I hated it, I could use the clip on my waistband instead.
No need! The pouch didn't flop around, making me both annoyed and fearful that I'd lose it, and it didn't seem to keep the top of my foot from flexing.
Yeah, I could've bought one of those at any point over the past five years and avoided the complaints I just listed off. But I didn't, and now I don't have to — and I can catch one last post-race high weeks later.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Full race report: Des Moines Half Marathon
The theme of my Des Moines Half experience (2:00:20, to boast once more) was doing everything right.
When I told people my goals, their responses were either "Oh, you can totally do that" or "I think you'll do even better than that."
But previous races have shown me that executing my part of the plan isn't a given — nor is the continuation of the weather conditions that I've trained in.
That wasn't so Sunday. While it was cooler than the majority of my training, it was just about identical to the taper runs I'd done over the past week.
First good move: fighting off the paranoia about being too cold and trusting (correctly) that I'd warm up enough to appreciate a T-shirt and shorts.
I must've tapered properly, because the only body part that demanded "why are we running?" was my brain. My legs felt fresh and fluid, and I definitely did not get the sense early on that it wasn't going to be my day.
I feared starting off too fast and burning myself out. So once we got started — and wow was this a big race; I think it took about three minutes to cross the starting line — I kept an eagle eye on my phone until I settled into a comfortable pace.
Mission accomplished. MapMyRun says the first mile was my slowest, and it also says I stayed within a 40-second range.
Throughout the race, I mostly trusted my body. I've never taken so few water breaks during a half marathon, but I just wasn't thirsty, and I also really didn't want to stop and break my stride. I did have water around the halfway point, because I'd taken my gel, but that was it.
I've also never taken so few walk breaks. Again, I was in the zone and didn't want to leave it. There were times when I wanted to, but my practice telling myself "you got this" paid off.
The bargaining method ("you can walk at mile 10") worked even better than during training — as other runners have observed, once I reached whatever marker, I actually felt fine and just kept going.
On the converse side, I felt queasy twice. The first time was after the only hill in the half marathon, and after I passed some AWESOME friends who showed up to cheer me on with a sign; the second time was within sight of the finish line.
I let myself walk both times — embarrassing during the second time — and the nausea subsided.
Finally, to wrap this up, my post-race activities were mostly spot-on. I got the massage as soon as possible; I didn't go completely sedentary, but I didn't stay on my feet the entire time; I hit up a hot tub later in the day; and I went to bed at 9:30 p.m.
In conclusion? ALL GOALS ACCOMPLISHED.
When I told people my goals, their responses were either "Oh, you can totally do that" or "I think you'll do even better than that."
But previous races have shown me that executing my part of the plan isn't a given — nor is the continuation of the weather conditions that I've trained in.
That wasn't so Sunday. While it was cooler than the majority of my training, it was just about identical to the taper runs I'd done over the past week.
First good move: fighting off the paranoia about being too cold and trusting (correctly) that I'd warm up enough to appreciate a T-shirt and shorts.
I must've tapered properly, because the only body part that demanded "why are we running?" was my brain. My legs felt fresh and fluid, and I definitely did not get the sense early on that it wasn't going to be my day.
I feared starting off too fast and burning myself out. So once we got started — and wow was this a big race; I think it took about three minutes to cross the starting line — I kept an eagle eye on my phone until I settled into a comfortable pace.
Mission accomplished. MapMyRun says the first mile was my slowest, and it also says I stayed within a 40-second range.
Throughout the race, I mostly trusted my body. I've never taken so few water breaks during a half marathon, but I just wasn't thirsty, and I also really didn't want to stop and break my stride. I did have water around the halfway point, because I'd taken my gel, but that was it.
I've also never taken so few walk breaks. Again, I was in the zone and didn't want to leave it. There were times when I wanted to, but my practice telling myself "you got this" paid off.
The bargaining method ("you can walk at mile 10") worked even better than during training — as other runners have observed, once I reached whatever marker, I actually felt fine and just kept going.
On the converse side, I felt queasy twice. The first time was after the only hill in the half marathon, and after I passed some AWESOME friends who showed up to cheer me on with a sign; the second time was within sight of the finish line.
I let myself walk both times — embarrassing during the second time — and the nausea subsided.
Finally, to wrap this up, my post-race activities were mostly spot-on. I got the massage as soon as possible; I didn't go completely sedentary, but I didn't stay on my feet the entire time; I hit up a hot tub later in the day; and I went to bed at 9:30 p.m.
In conclusion? ALL GOALS ACCOMPLISHED.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)