This weekend is the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K, which is once again a race I signed up for in hopes of beating a personal record. (24:09, as I'll tell anyone, as evidenced by my beery boasting in a taproom in Gulfport, Miss.)
Going into last year's attempts, I had a lot of thoughts about whether I'd achieve it or whether I'd come up short. The thoughts varied from day to day, but the ones that were right were those that predicted I'd flunk my test.
I haven't thought very hard about it at all this year, however. The race crept up on me a little bit, mostly because I decided to train for a half marathon and hope for a bonus of a 5K PR, a strategy that's worked better than my one 5K-specific training plan.
In fact, I haven't done any practice 5Ks. I'm not sure what effect that will have on my race, but I know it's had a positive effect on my psyche: I spent a lot of last year's practice 5Ks scolding and berating myself.
All of this is to say, I'm not sure what to expect out of myself on Sunday.
After a 40-minute tempo run on Wednesday, I feel more confident that I can start strong and not run out of gas midway through (like last year).
But is that strong start enough to break my PR? I don't know, because I've done all tempo runs and some of my intervals by feel, instead of by MapMyRun.
This year, though, I don't think it matters. I'll go on a slow, easy shakeout run today; stay off my feet for most of tomorrow (and probably hydrate well, because I'll actually be working during prime boozing hours); and head out to a flat course that ends in free beer on Sunday.
There, if nothing else, it looks like I'll beat the rain, which is forecast to arrive in the afternoon, justifying a lazy Sunday twofold.
Showing posts with label speed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label speed. Show all posts
Friday, March 27, 2015
Monday, April 7, 2014
Upcoming race: Grand Blue Mile
Two-plus years ago, as I planned out my running year, I set my sights on something totally different: a mile-long race.
But the one I had in mind — the State Street Mile — is in Rockford, Ill., and within months of my announced intention to try it, I was out of Rockford and with other plans for my PTO that summer.
This year is the year, though. All the stars have aligned for me to try the Grand Blue Mile.
Instead of doing a half marathon that weekend, I'm doing one more than a month later, and the April 22 race day comes a few weeks after the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K. From speed training to speedier training — the transition seemed pretty natural.
Plus, because I already work downtown on Tuesdays, travel and parking will be a cinch. All I have to do is show up to work with a change of clothes.
Warming up could be a cinch, too: Just jog the approximately half-mile from work down to Western Gateway Park. Some casual Googling indicated to me that I'll need at least that much to prepare for such a short race.
I unfortunately didn't think far enough ahead to work more mile training into my 5K regimen, so I don't have much material for goals yet.
It is safe to say, however, that I registered for the competitive division — recommended for sub-8:00-milers — and not the recreational — all abilities, including walkers. I've done that in 5Ks, sometimes without even warming up, training or trying (boy, Sadye, you sure have long arms ... ).
And it's also safe to say that I'll get a PR ... because it only counts on race day, according to Runner's World's Ask Miles.
But the one I had in mind — the State Street Mile — is in Rockford, Ill., and within months of my announced intention to try it, I was out of Rockford and with other plans for my PTO that summer.
This year is the year, though. All the stars have aligned for me to try the Grand Blue Mile.
Instead of doing a half marathon that weekend, I'm doing one more than a month later, and the April 22 race day comes a few weeks after the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K. From speed training to speedier training — the transition seemed pretty natural.
Plus, because I already work downtown on Tuesdays, travel and parking will be a cinch. All I have to do is show up to work with a change of clothes.
Warming up could be a cinch, too: Just jog the approximately half-mile from work down to Western Gateway Park. Some casual Googling indicated to me that I'll need at least that much to prepare for such a short race.
I unfortunately didn't think far enough ahead to work more mile training into my 5K regimen, so I don't have much material for goals yet.
It is safe to say, however, that I registered for the competitive division — recommended for sub-8:00-milers — and not the recreational — all abilities, including walkers. I've done that in 5Ks, sometimes without even warming up, training or trying (boy, Sadye, you sure have long arms ... ).
And it's also safe to say that I'll get a PR ... because it only counts on race day, according to Runner's World's Ask Miles.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Reflections on 5K training plans
As I made my racing plans for the first half of the year, I realized that the timing of races and vacations meant I'd be able to — and probably should — use a 5K-specific training plan.
It's been only recently that I aimed for speed at 5Ks, and in my running career almost every 5K has fallen during half-marathon training anyway.
So this spring, I was intrigued, excited and hopeful to implement a speed-specific plan.
Looking back, though, I have to say that I don't think I'll do that again. Or at the very least, I'll try a different routine.
Part of the fault lies with me, I'll admit that. I lost a week because of illness, and I made a few changes to the program that I thought would improve it.
But I do know, however, that I'm not alone. When I wrote earlier about adjusting my expectations for the 5K, I received a supportive tweet from Karla:
The alterations I made to the training plan were an attempt to make it more speed-specific, but maybe I erred in dropping off some of the longer, easier runs (longer being relative, of course) — the half-marathon plan that I like does incorporate weekly speedwork, in addition to mid-distance and long runs.
Then again, running is definitely a head game, and I think that's especially true right now for me, considering the years of consistent running and biking under my belt and my age.
I could always try a 5K plan again. I might. But the next competitive 5K I have my eye on is during half-marathon training, so it won't be soon.
It's been only recently that I aimed for speed at 5Ks, and in my running career almost every 5K has fallen during half-marathon training anyway.
So this spring, I was intrigued, excited and hopeful to implement a speed-specific plan.
Looking back, though, I have to say that I don't think I'll do that again. Or at the very least, I'll try a different routine.
Part of the fault lies with me, I'll admit that. I lost a week because of illness, and I made a few changes to the program that I thought would improve it.
But I do know, however, that I'm not alone. When I wrote earlier about adjusting my expectations for the 5K, I received a supportive tweet from Karla:
I always run my best times deep into training for longer distances. But to be fair, I've never properly trained for a 5K.It made me wonder: Was it maybe not a coincidence that I shattered my 5K personal record at an event two-thirds of the way through half-marathon training that was going great?
The alterations I made to the training plan were an attempt to make it more speed-specific, but maybe I erred in dropping off some of the longer, easier runs (longer being relative, of course) — the half-marathon plan that I like does incorporate weekly speedwork, in addition to mid-distance and long runs.
Then again, running is definitely a head game, and I think that's especially true right now for me, considering the years of consistent running and biking under my belt and my age.
I could always try a 5K plan again. I might. But the next competitive 5K I have my eye on is during half-marathon training, so it won't be soon.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Finding the sweet spot
I had found a number of excuses for why the first tempo run of the training cycle didn't happen.
But happily, I can retire one of those: the "there's no good place to do it!" one.
There was a tiny park near my West Des Moines park that I liked because it was exactly a half-mile away — perfect for warmups and cooldowns — and had a quarter-mile loop that was mostly flat. It was much easier to run for time, not distance, in such a setup.
As it turns out, the neighborhood across the street from my new apartment does have a few flat roads, and they're even about a half-mile from my building, too.
Traffic is minimal, which is important given the state of the sidewalks (the ones on which I wiped out a week or so ago ... they did not improve during our thaw/refreeze).
So yesterday, I continued putting my recent resolutions into action. I scratched off the workouts that seemed most like "junk miles" to limit my options, and went for a 30-minute tempo run.
From what I could tell, it went smoothly — seemed like I picked up decent speed, like I was supposed to, and it felt like less of a struggle than Sunday's get-back-into-running run was.
Spring might not come before race day, especially with the polar vortex moving back in for the next 10 days, but I suddenly feel less like I'll fall hours short of a PR at the Friendly Sons 5K.
But happily, I can retire one of those: the "there's no good place to do it!" one.
There was a tiny park near my West Des Moines park that I liked because it was exactly a half-mile away — perfect for warmups and cooldowns — and had a quarter-mile loop that was mostly flat. It was much easier to run for time, not distance, in such a setup.
As it turns out, the neighborhood across the street from my new apartment does have a few flat roads, and they're even about a half-mile from my building, too.
Traffic is minimal, which is important given the state of the sidewalks (the ones on which I wiped out a week or so ago ... they did not improve during our thaw/refreeze).
So yesterday, I continued putting my recent resolutions into action. I scratched off the workouts that seemed most like "junk miles" to limit my options, and went for a 30-minute tempo run.
From what I could tell, it went smoothly — seemed like I picked up decent speed, like I was supposed to, and it felt like less of a struggle than Sunday's get-back-into-running run was.
Spring might not come before race day, especially with the polar vortex moving back in for the next 10 days, but I suddenly feel less like I'll fall hours short of a PR at the Friendly Sons 5K.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Winter blues
Maybe it's the long winter wearing on me, but my faith in PR-setting abilities next month is waning.
I still wanted to get a race in before Dam to Dam — though I might've picked something besides the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick race if I hadn't been eyeing a 5K PR — so there aren't any registration or training regrets.
And I'm only in week three of eight of Hal Higdon's 5K training plan, so perhaps I'm sounding the alarm early.
But there are two big reasons why I'm pessimistic:
1. I'm missing workouts. More accurately, I'm missing key workouts. Still more accurately, when I'm choosing which workout to get in and which to skip, I'm taking the easy, lazy way out.
Again, it's only week three. But I passed on the first tempo run and will likely not get in the second set of intervals, thanks to the flu bug I'm recovering from.
2. The speed workouts I have done have been rather lackluster. Well, I guess the first set of intervals went OK. But the three fast miles ... oof.
I can blame conditions like wind in my face, unexpected hills and flooded sidewalks, and of course I'm happy to do that. There's no reason race day can't have those things too, however.
Also, the numbers don't look as bad as they felt, especially given it's the first sustained speedwork I've done all year. But they're nowhere near what I notched last September.
So what to do from here?
I'm not going to throw in the towel overall, but maybe scratch one day a week off the schedule — it's too tempting to opt for "three miles" over the more challenging and race-specific workouts.
I'm going to ease up on the smack talk about beating my gentleman friend in another 5K, because I'm not so sure about walking the walk this time.
I'm going to continue running smarter, not harder. I didn't cram in any missed workouts, and I'm going to let my body finish flushing out this flu virus before lacing the shoes back up.
And next time, I'll remember the value of a solid base — you know, like training for a half marathon — before dreaming of getting in PR shape in eight weeks.
I still wanted to get a race in before Dam to Dam — though I might've picked something besides the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick race if I hadn't been eyeing a 5K PR — so there aren't any registration or training regrets.
And I'm only in week three of eight of Hal Higdon's 5K training plan, so perhaps I'm sounding the alarm early.
But there are two big reasons why I'm pessimistic:
1. I'm missing workouts. More accurately, I'm missing key workouts. Still more accurately, when I'm choosing which workout to get in and which to skip, I'm taking the easy, lazy way out.
Again, it's only week three. But I passed on the first tempo run and will likely not get in the second set of intervals, thanks to the flu bug I'm recovering from.
2. The speed workouts I have done have been rather lackluster. Well, I guess the first set of intervals went OK. But the three fast miles ... oof.
I can blame conditions like wind in my face, unexpected hills and flooded sidewalks, and of course I'm happy to do that. There's no reason race day can't have those things too, however.
Also, the numbers don't look as bad as they felt, especially given it's the first sustained speedwork I've done all year. But they're nowhere near what I notched last September.
* * *
So what to do from here?
I'm not going to throw in the towel overall, but maybe scratch one day a week off the schedule — it's too tempting to opt for "three miles" over the more challenging and race-specific workouts.
I'm going to ease up on the smack talk about beating my gentleman friend in another 5K, because I'm not so sure about walking the walk this time.
I'm going to continue running smarter, not harder. I didn't cram in any missed workouts, and I'm going to let my body finish flushing out this flu virus before lacing the shoes back up.
And next time, I'll remember the value of a solid base — you know, like training for a half marathon — before dreaming of getting in PR shape in eight weeks.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
First-place problems
At the end of Monday's boastful post about a 5K personal record, I alluded to some Debbie Downer thoughts that came after the runner's high had dissipated.
If you don't want to roll your eyes at my melodrama, close the window now.
Recently, my 5K goals have been to beat my current PR. At first, I didn't even know what my 5K PR was, because I rarely ran that particular distance — usually only three miles, or well over it.
So it was safe to assume that my 26:22 last fall was a 5K PR, particularly given my shock at seeing splits all under 9:00.
Going into this spring's 5K, I was anxious and raced poorly but still knocked nearly a minute off that time.
And despite my nerves last weekend, I was well-prepared, physically and mentally, so shattering my spring record was almost a given as long as there were no weather curveballs.
Naturally, I want to run the next competitive 5K I enter even faster. But unlike with the past two PR attempts, in which I entered with confidence that I could do it, I'm not sure how much better I can get.
I've already surpassed the limits of what I thought I could do by so much, that I haven't left myself much margin for improvement: Consider that in a year, I've knocked more than two minutes off my PR.
Where do I go from here? Sure, I've thought several times "no way can I run faster than X pace," but 7:47 definitely falls under "comfortably hard": fluid at the beginning, heavy at the end. I'd never seen it before as a longer average, not even during the tempo runs.
So how much faster can I run? Or, worse than not beating it, what if I don't match it again?
Moving away from logic to superstition: When it comes to 5Ks, I haven't been disappointed yet. That makes me dread the other shoe.
All of these thoughts cropped up within 12 hours of finishing the race. Now that a few days have passed, and I've shared the fears with the Internet, they sound as silly as they are.
Sure, I'm likely to whiff at a 5K, but God knows I've done that several times at half marathons, and yet I'm once again believing that I can hit 2:05:00 in a few weeks.
And of course the gains will shrink with time, but there's nothing to say I can't go just a little faster. A sub-24:00 race only needs 7:43 miles, and I was nowhere near vomiting after Sunday's race.
I think what this boils down to is my weak willpower. Breaking my PR will continue to get tougher, no doubt about it, and so the logical part of me that shrieks "Hey, why are you running so fast? This feels awful!" will speak up sooner and louder.
It would be much easier to rest on my laurels, to declare myself incapable of running faster. I hope I don't succumb to the siren song of "easy way out." And trash-talking a competitor will only work if I've at least walked the walk in practice, by myself.
If you don't want to roll your eyes at my melodrama, close the window now.
Recently, my 5K goals have been to beat my current PR. At first, I didn't even know what my 5K PR was, because I rarely ran that particular distance — usually only three miles, or well over it.
So it was safe to assume that my 26:22 last fall was a 5K PR, particularly given my shock at seeing splits all under 9:00.
Going into this spring's 5K, I was anxious and raced poorly but still knocked nearly a minute off that time.
And despite my nerves last weekend, I was well-prepared, physically and mentally, so shattering my spring record was almost a given as long as there were no weather curveballs.
Naturally, I want to run the next competitive 5K I enter even faster. But unlike with the past two PR attempts, in which I entered with confidence that I could do it, I'm not sure how much better I can get.
I've already surpassed the limits of what I thought I could do by so much, that I haven't left myself much margin for improvement: Consider that in a year, I've knocked more than two minutes off my PR.
Where do I go from here? Sure, I've thought several times "no way can I run faster than X pace," but 7:47 definitely falls under "comfortably hard": fluid at the beginning, heavy at the end. I'd never seen it before as a longer average, not even during the tempo runs.
So how much faster can I run? Or, worse than not beating it, what if I don't match it again?
Moving away from logic to superstition: When it comes to 5Ks, I haven't been disappointed yet. That makes me dread the other shoe.
All of these thoughts cropped up within 12 hours of finishing the race. Now that a few days have passed, and I've shared the fears with the Internet, they sound as silly as they are.
Sure, I'm likely to whiff at a 5K, but God knows I've done that several times at half marathons, and yet I'm once again believing that I can hit 2:05:00 in a few weeks.
And of course the gains will shrink with time, but there's nothing to say I can't go just a little faster. A sub-24:00 race only needs 7:43 miles, and I was nowhere near vomiting after Sunday's race.
I think what this boils down to is my weak willpower. Breaking my PR will continue to get tougher, no doubt about it, and so the logical part of me that shrieks "Hey, why are you running so fast? This feels awful!" will speak up sooner and louder.
It would be much easier to rest on my laurels, to declare myself incapable of running faster. I hope I don't succumb to the siren song of "easy way out." And trash-talking a competitor will only work if I've at least walked the walk in practice, by myself.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Race report: I'm still rocking the Remembrance Run 5K
For the second time in as many years, I set a 5K personal record at the Iowa Remembrance Run.
Actually, "set" is an understatement. Smashed, shattered, destroyed ... those are all better words: My chip time was 24:09 (a 7:47 pace), compared with my old 5K PR of 25:30.
While the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick was an ugly PR, the Remembrance Run was a thing of beauty. I did a slow warmup jog before the opening ceremonies, found my pace right away AND kept it (a range of three seconds!), fought off the urge to walk at mile 2.75 and subsequently placed in the top 10 women (No. 7!).
All but one of these accomplishments are thanks to the tempo runs in my half marathon training plan. Hal, I'm virtually high-fiving and fist-bumping you.
The one that I can't thank Hal for? Not walking at mile 2.75.
I may or may not have gotten cocky after all those successful tempo runs, and I may or may not have told my gentleman friend that I thought I could beat him.
And then on Saturday, the day before the race, he notched a 5:45 mile at the Brew Mile ... so I definitely got nervous.
We started out together, but as we wove through the crowds, I lost sight of him and hoped that meant I was ahead of him, not choking on his dust. But without knowledge either way, when I hit the final stretch — in full sunshine — I absolutely could not allow myself to walk.
Thank God I didn't. Cory would've overtaken me. Instead, I crossed at 24:09, and by the time I'd gotten my medal, returned my chip and walked to the sidelines, he'd finished.
Even if I hadn't been able to walk the walk, it would've been a lovely day. We cheered on and lunched with fellow runners Sharyn, Laryssa, Pam and Regina; it was Sharyn's first race ever, and like me, Regina bested her Friendly Sons of St. Patrick time.
Like Van Halen says, though, "the more you get, the more you want," and I eventually came down from the post-race high ... but that's fodder for another post, and it doesn't take away from the fact that both Remembrance Runs I've done would have been wonderful regardless of my performance.
Each time, I've come away just so impressed at the work the race organizers put in at this one, compared with an annual 5K I used to do back in Rockford. No wonder I used to be so lukewarm about 5Ks.
Actually, "set" is an understatement. Smashed, shattered, destroyed ... those are all better words: My chip time was 24:09 (a 7:47 pace), compared with my old 5K PR of 25:30.
While the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick was an ugly PR, the Remembrance Run was a thing of beauty. I did a slow warmup jog before the opening ceremonies, found my pace right away AND kept it (a range of three seconds!), fought off the urge to walk at mile 2.75 and subsequently placed in the top 10 women (No. 7!).
All but one of these accomplishments are thanks to the tempo runs in my half marathon training plan. Hal, I'm virtually high-fiving and fist-bumping you.
The one that I can't thank Hal for? Not walking at mile 2.75.
I may or may not have gotten cocky after all those successful tempo runs, and I may or may not have told my gentleman friend that I thought I could beat him.
And then on Saturday, the day before the race, he notched a 5:45 mile at the Brew Mile ... so I definitely got nervous.
 |
| We took a moment's pause from talking smack to each other, and I even dropped my nervous grimace. Fortunately I ran better than I photographed that day. |
Thank God I didn't. Cory would've overtaken me. Instead, I crossed at 24:09, and by the time I'd gotten my medal, returned my chip and walked to the sidelines, he'd finished.
Even if I hadn't been able to walk the walk, it would've been a lovely day. We cheered on and lunched with fellow runners Sharyn, Laryssa, Pam and Regina; it was Sharyn's first race ever, and like me, Regina bested her Friendly Sons of St. Patrick time.
 |
| Check out those sweet medals! From left: Cory, me, Pam, Regina, Sharyn and Laryssa. |
Each time, I've come away just so impressed at the work the race organizers put in at this one, compared with an annual 5K I used to do back in Rockford. No wonder I used to be so lukewarm about 5Ks.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Five-year anniversary run
As far as I know, yesterday wasn't the exact anniversary of anything important in my life.
But as I ran around Raccoon River Park, the mix of fall and summer weather, plus the forested gravel trail, I kept reminiscing about similar places I used to run — the Stone Bridge Trail in Roscoe, Ill.; Schmeekle Reserve in Stevens Point, Wis.
I rode that wave of nostalgia all the way back to 2008. That fall, I went on my first non-rain-related run since high school.
I didn't get hooked on it until spring 2009. But if I hadn't, one fall evening, for absolutely no reason at all, seen how far I could jog around my neighborhood until I got exhausted (not very far), there would've been no springtime running obsession.
So I guess it's the equivalent of first-date anniversary versus wedding anniversary, and as I have married friends who celebrate both of those milestones (and why not?), I think I'm well within my rights to declare my first five-year running anniversary.
I am also exercising a little bit of poetic license, because the run during which I thought "huh, it's been about five years now, give or take a month" was a rousing success.
Spurred by some gentle teasing, I decided to at least run the 10K my training schedule told me that I should do this weekend in a race. Going fast wasn't necessarily my intention, but it happened.
Five years after I couldn't even run half a mile, I ran 6.2 miles at an 8:25 pace. The later miles were a little bit of a struggle, for sure, but I have a hunch that they still felt better than that first quarter-mile in fall 2008.
(Which, by the way, was definitely uphill. Raccoon River, on the other hand, is beautifully flat.)
It's hard for me to say what I'm prouder of: that I've come so far with running, or that I've stuck with it through the bumps.
It's also hard for me, as an inherently unathletic person and as someone self-conscious about bragging, to acknowledge how I got to this point.
For all the credit I jokingly give to beer and pork (which I consume more now than ever), or the pointing at perfect weather and terrains, this is actually because I'm putting in the effort. Discipline and persistence is paying off.
But as I ran around Raccoon River Park, the mix of fall and summer weather, plus the forested gravel trail, I kept reminiscing about similar places I used to run — the Stone Bridge Trail in Roscoe, Ill.; Schmeekle Reserve in Stevens Point, Wis.
I rode that wave of nostalgia all the way back to 2008. That fall, I went on my first non-rain-related run since high school.
I didn't get hooked on it until spring 2009. But if I hadn't, one fall evening, for absolutely no reason at all, seen how far I could jog around my neighborhood until I got exhausted (not very far), there would've been no springtime running obsession.
So I guess it's the equivalent of first-date anniversary versus wedding anniversary, and as I have married friends who celebrate both of those milestones (and why not?), I think I'm well within my rights to declare my first five-year running anniversary.
I am also exercising a little bit of poetic license, because the run during which I thought "huh, it's been about five years now, give or take a month" was a rousing success.
Spurred by some gentle teasing, I decided to at least run the 10K my training schedule told me that I should do this weekend in a race. Going fast wasn't necessarily my intention, but it happened.
Five years after I couldn't even run half a mile, I ran 6.2 miles at an 8:25 pace. The later miles were a little bit of a struggle, for sure, but I have a hunch that they still felt better than that first quarter-mile in fall 2008.
(Which, by the way, was definitely uphill. Raccoon River, on the other hand, is beautifully flat.)
It's hard for me to say what I'm prouder of: that I've come so far with running, or that I've stuck with it through the bumps.
It's also hard for me, as an inherently unathletic person and as someone self-conscious about bragging, to acknowledge how I got to this point.
For all the credit I jokingly give to beer and pork (which I consume more now than ever), or the pointing at perfect weather and terrains, this is actually because I'm putting in the effort. Discipline and persistence is paying off.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Will I or won't I break my PR?
So I ran the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K on Sunday, which as you might remember was the event at which I hoped to better my personal record. Let's take a look at how that day went.
1:30 a.m.: My cat, annoyed that I didn't come straight home after work, develops a case of the crazies as I prepare for bed. This results in a (minor) bloody toe. I hope this is not an omen.
6, 7 and 8 a.m.: I wake up, realize it's not 9 a.m. yet and roll back into a fitful doze.
8:50 a.m.: I crawl out of bed and recall one of my dreams last night — that the race went poorly, for some reason. So far my dreams have shown no sign of a latent psychic talent, but will this streak continue?
9:30 a.m.: I check Facebook to see that a college acquaintance ran a 5K in 23 minutes, good for a trophy in our age group. My 24:58 three-miler ducks its head, ashamed of its bragging.
10:30 a.m.: I pull into the True Value Hardware parking lot, observe lots of spandex and stretching, but no starting line or registration table. I ask one of the spandex-clad stretchers where the race begins, and she tells me to walk around the fence that says "plague." Her directions are spot-on:
10:50 a.m.: "THE RACE WILL START IN 10 MINUTES," blares a megaphone. Regina and I keep walking until we find ourselves literally at the starting line. Yards behind us, the other runners mill about.
I'm mildly excited, because there are no timing chips, but also feel out of place with the fast kids. Will they trample me? Regina doesn't take any chances with that and bids me farewell.
The man next to me turns out to be a friendly and speedy veteran of this race. We discuss his pace (faster than mine), his clothing choices (not as smart as mine!) and the terrain/route.
10:59 a.m.: "THE RACE WILL START IN ONE MINUTE." Mr. Friendly gives me a fist bump for luck.
11:07.50 a.m.: One mile in, I'm being passed by quite a few people, but MapMyRun tells me I've just run another sub-8:00 mile. Logically I know it's too fast; physically, I know it's faster than normal yet not miserable. Please don't bonk!
11:15.47 a.m.: I've turned around and feel much slower, though MapMyRun later will tell me I was only seven seconds off the first mile's pace. I feel like I'm working — not miserable, but not eager to prolong this much more.
(Time unknown, but 0.66 miles later): Leading up to the turnaround is a slight but long incline. I wimp out and walk a few seconds. Yep, with less than a half-mile to go, I walk. Maybe 0.2 miles later, I do it again. Come ON, Sadye. Seriously.
11:24 a.m.: I've turned the corner, literally, and am headed literally down Grand Avenue, with the finish line in plain sight. Also in plain sight? A completely pancaked squirrel on the road. RIP, buddy.
11:25 a.m.: There's a guy in front of me, but he's not picking up his pace even though we're so close. Well, I'm going to.
11:25.25 a.m.: I pass the guy.
11:25.30 a.m.: I officially finish, breaking my PR by more than a minute.
11:25.33 a.m.: I remember to hit stop on my phone.
11:24.40 a.m.: The nausea subsides.
11:24.45 a.m.: The guy I passed smiles at me and says: "Good job!" in a nonsarcastic way.
11:25 a.m.: The sun comes out, perfect for my sweaty T-shirt and shorts. I wonder how the jacket-wearing Mr. Friendly feels right now.
11:45 a.m.: Regina and I have both finished, rehydrated, dried off, etc., and decide to have a celebratory drink. As we try to enter Sully's, we discover the first one is on the race organizers. Free beer and a PR; what could be better than that?
12:24 a.m.: We're polishing off the half-beers I snagged before the keg ran dry when age group awards are announced. Turns out I placed second in the women's 20 to 29 group (out of 17).
That's what's better than free beer and a PR — earning your first athletic trophy ever, and NOT just for participating.
(And if, like me, you were wondering whether my walk breaks cost me first, the answer is no, thank God. The first-place winner beat me by nearly five minutes.)
1:30 a.m.: My cat, annoyed that I didn't come straight home after work, develops a case of the crazies as I prepare for bed. This results in a (minor) bloody toe. I hope this is not an omen.
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| This was not taken during the kitty-crazies outbreak. I just wanted an excuse to post a picture of Dusty, and in particular the unimpressed/skeptical look he often gives me. |
8:50 a.m.: I crawl out of bed and recall one of my dreams last night — that the race went poorly, for some reason. So far my dreams have shown no sign of a latent psychic talent, but will this streak continue?
9:30 a.m.: I check Facebook to see that a college acquaintance ran a 5K in 23 minutes, good for a trophy in our age group. My 24:58 three-miler ducks its head, ashamed of its bragging.
10:30 a.m.: I pull into the True Value Hardware parking lot, observe lots of spandex and stretching, but no starting line or registration table. I ask one of the spandex-clad stretchers where the race begins, and she tells me to walk around the fence that says "plague." Her directions are spot-on:
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| I hope I'm not disseminating gang messages by posting this. |
I'm mildly excited, because there are no timing chips, but also feel out of place with the fast kids. Will they trample me? Regina doesn't take any chances with that and bids me farewell.
The man next to me turns out to be a friendly and speedy veteran of this race. We discuss his pace (faster than mine), his clothing choices (not as smart as mine!) and the terrain/route.
10:59 a.m.: "THE RACE WILL START IN ONE MINUTE." Mr. Friendly gives me a fist bump for luck.
11:07.50 a.m.: One mile in, I'm being passed by quite a few people, but MapMyRun tells me I've just run another sub-8:00 mile. Logically I know it's too fast; physically, I know it's faster than normal yet not miserable. Please don't bonk!
11:15.47 a.m.: I've turned around and feel much slower, though MapMyRun later will tell me I was only seven seconds off the first mile's pace. I feel like I'm working — not miserable, but not eager to prolong this much more.
(Time unknown, but 0.66 miles later): Leading up to the turnaround is a slight but long incline. I wimp out and walk a few seconds. Yep, with less than a half-mile to go, I walk. Maybe 0.2 miles later, I do it again. Come ON, Sadye. Seriously.
11:24 a.m.: I've turned the corner, literally, and am headed literally down Grand Avenue, with the finish line in plain sight. Also in plain sight? A completely pancaked squirrel on the road. RIP, buddy.
11:25 a.m.: There's a guy in front of me, but he's not picking up his pace even though we're so close. Well, I'm going to.
11:25.25 a.m.: I pass the guy.
11:25.30 a.m.: I officially finish, breaking my PR by more than a minute.
11:25.33 a.m.: I remember to hit stop on my phone.
11:24.40 a.m.: The nausea subsides.
11:24.45 a.m.: The guy I passed smiles at me and says: "Good job!" in a nonsarcastic way.
11:25 a.m.: The sun comes out, perfect for my sweaty T-shirt and shorts. I wonder how the jacket-wearing Mr. Friendly feels right now.
11:45 a.m.: Regina and I have both finished, rehydrated, dried off, etc., and decide to have a celebratory drink. As we try to enter Sully's, we discover the first one is on the race organizers. Free beer and a PR; what could be better than that?
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| Nothing says classy like sitting on a Burger King stoop with free mass-produced beer before noon. |
That's what's better than free beer and a PR — earning your first athletic trophy ever, and NOT just for participating.
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| I might put this on my desk at work, to make more people ask me about it and then having to congratulate me. |
Thursday, April 4, 2013
A week on easy street
Back in January, when I registered for a 5K and a half marathon, I snuck one week from the 5K training plan into my half marathon schedule.
So in the midst of training for a half marathon, I've suddenly begun tapering for my upcoming 5K. And talk about a contrast.
Two Mondays ago, I ran 10 miles in the snow at a 9:36 pace; this Monday, I ran four — twice as many as I was "supposed to" — at a 10:34 pace and knew 60-degree days were right around the corner.
Two Wednesdays ago, I did nine 400-meter intervals; yesterday, I did a 30-minute tempo run.
Last Friday, I ran five miles in shorts and a T-shirt; when I run either today or tomorrow, I'll still have the shorts and T-shirt (I hope!), but I'll only need to go two miles. That leaves plenty of time for me to bake a cake. (If you work with me on Saturdays, get excited!)
Last Saturday, I dragged myself out of bed a half-hour early so that I could do a test run. This Saturday, I might venture out to soak up some sun ... or I might hit the snooze button.
No wonder I've felt like I had more time on my hands lately.
It's odd to hear about my running friends' third 10-miler in three weeks on the same day that I slept nine hours. Judging from some deep naps and serious tuning out of the alarm clock, though, the lower-mileage week has been much-needed.
And thinking back over the past month, as the long runs have grown longer, it seems like I've been mixing in a few easier weeks (to accommodate out-of-town trips, visitors and lack of perfectly timed 10K and 15K races to enter).
I'm pretty sure that's a training tip I've read online, though all the sleeping I've been doing could be clouding my brains. Just to be safe, I'll pat myself on the back for doing something right, even if it's on accident.
So in the midst of training for a half marathon, I've suddenly begun tapering for my upcoming 5K. And talk about a contrast.
Two Mondays ago, I ran 10 miles in the snow at a 9:36 pace; this Monday, I ran four — twice as many as I was "supposed to" — at a 10:34 pace and knew 60-degree days were right around the corner.
Two Wednesdays ago, I did nine 400-meter intervals; yesterday, I did a 30-minute tempo run.
Last Friday, I ran five miles in shorts and a T-shirt; when I run either today or tomorrow, I'll still have the shorts and T-shirt (I hope!), but I'll only need to go two miles. That leaves plenty of time for me to bake a cake. (If you work with me on Saturdays, get excited!)
Last Saturday, I dragged myself out of bed a half-hour early so that I could do a test run. This Saturday, I might venture out to soak up some sun ... or I might hit the snooze button.
No wonder I've felt like I had more time on my hands lately.
It's odd to hear about my running friends' third 10-miler in three weeks on the same day that I slept nine hours. Judging from some deep naps and serious tuning out of the alarm clock, though, the lower-mileage week has been much-needed.
And thinking back over the past month, as the long runs have grown longer, it seems like I've been mixing in a few easier weeks (to accommodate out-of-town trips, visitors and lack of perfectly timed 10K and 15K races to enter).
I'm pretty sure that's a training tip I've read online, though all the sleeping I've been doing could be clouding my brains. Just to be safe, I'll pat myself on the back for doing something right, even if it's on accident.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
When walking the walk turns out spectacularly
On Friday night, I was discussing weekend workout plans with Regina, a member of our "running club." The club hadn't met in several weeks, thanks to various people's out-of-town trips, and she was ready for us to revive it.
Except I'd already made plans to go on a bike ride. I urged her to run Saturday instead; she countered with the wet weather forecast.
"So just run faster. Like my dad said to me before, 'Are you made of sugar?' " A pause, then I confessed: "Sometimes I am made of sugar, though."
Still, that moment of bluster fluttered around my brain as I slowly woke up Saturday morning to the sounds of water dripping off something -- was it current rain, or past rain falling off the roof?
Regardless, it didn't sound ominous enough for me to spend my free half-hour doing household chores instead of running while retaining any self-respect. The plan to attempt a fast three-miler, to gauge my preparation for next weekend's Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K, was still on.
And thank God shame, or even the threat of it, is such a powerful motivator. It wasn't raining during my sprint, though it was more humid than I like, and the air felt pleasantly brisk on my legs (yay shorts!).
Most importantly, I notched some impressive numbers that have me feeling optimistic (too optimistic?) about this upcoming 5K PR attempt. I'm trying not to build myself up too much on here and inside my head, because race day is always a wild card, but no matter what, it can't erase these numbers:
Mile 1: 8:17 pace. Feelin' good!
Mile 2: 8:25 pace. Feelin' good until I had to turn around and go uphill. I caved and took two brief walk breaks.
Mile 3: 8:09 pace. Loving the return to flat terrain. From 2.25 through about 2.75, the miles seemed to drag, but a quick break revived me and powered me to a dominant finish.
End result: 3 miles in 24:57, for a 8:19 average clip. My halfway point was 12:15, so it wasn't a negative split, but it wasn't as skewed as I feared it might be around mile 1.75 (that's when the uphills started to wear me out).
So Regina, I'm sorry that I was kind of a hypocrite and scoffed at your disdain for rain, but in a way I'm glad -- otherwise, I might be sitting here now, proud of my clean dishes instead of my mad running skills.
Except I'd already made plans to go on a bike ride. I urged her to run Saturday instead; she countered with the wet weather forecast.
"So just run faster. Like my dad said to me before, 'Are you made of sugar?' " A pause, then I confessed: "Sometimes I am made of sugar, though."
Still, that moment of bluster fluttered around my brain as I slowly woke up Saturday morning to the sounds of water dripping off something -- was it current rain, or past rain falling off the roof?
Regardless, it didn't sound ominous enough for me to spend my free half-hour doing household chores instead of running while retaining any self-respect. The plan to attempt a fast three-miler, to gauge my preparation for next weekend's Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K, was still on.
And thank God shame, or even the threat of it, is such a powerful motivator. It wasn't raining during my sprint, though it was more humid than I like, and the air felt pleasantly brisk on my legs (yay shorts!).
Most importantly, I notched some impressive numbers that have me feeling optimistic (too optimistic?) about this upcoming 5K PR attempt. I'm trying not to build myself up too much on here and inside my head, because race day is always a wild card, but no matter what, it can't erase these numbers:
Mile 1: 8:17 pace. Feelin' good!
Mile 2: 8:25 pace. Feelin' good until I had to turn around and go uphill. I caved and took two brief walk breaks.
Mile 3: 8:09 pace. Loving the return to flat terrain. From 2.25 through about 2.75, the miles seemed to drag, but a quick break revived me and powered me to a dominant finish.
End result: 3 miles in 24:57, for a 8:19 average clip. My halfway point was 12:15, so it wasn't a negative split, but it wasn't as skewed as I feared it might be around mile 1.75 (that's when the uphills started to wear me out).
So Regina, I'm sorry that I was kind of a hypocrite and scoffed at your disdain for rain, but in a way I'm glad -- otherwise, I might be sitting here now, proud of my clean dishes instead of my mad running skills.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
An exploratory run
I don't have any interesting commentary about my running performance Friday, a five-miler that was supposed to be race pace.
I averaged a 9:16 pace ... oops ... or hooray, because there were definitely some inclines?
However, I did indulge the wanderlust I've started to feel. Not that I don't love all the rec paths around the West Des Moines area, but as half marathon training ramps up, I feel like my routes are growing repetitive.
So I got creative and explored more of the chi-chi neighborhood that borders those rec paths. The terrain was good -- sometimes I worry that the sidewalk on unfamiliar roads will end abruptly, as it does on University and Westown Parkway -- and so was the scenery.
Beyond all the beautiful houses (and, OK, a few ugly ones, like the boxy avocado-green mansion), these were my favorite sights:
I'll be back, Country Club Estates ... I've got several more runs in my future, and most likely a few bike rides, too. Stay tuned.
I averaged a 9:16 pace ... oops ... or hooray, because there were definitely some inclines?
However, I did indulge the wanderlust I've started to feel. Not that I don't love all the rec paths around the West Des Moines area, but as half marathon training ramps up, I feel like my routes are growing repetitive.
So I got creative and explored more of the chi-chi neighborhood that borders those rec paths. The terrain was good -- sometimes I worry that the sidewalk on unfamiliar roads will end abruptly, as it does on University and Westown Parkway -- and so was the scenery.
Beyond all the beautiful houses (and, OK, a few ugly ones, like the boxy avocado-green mansion), these were my favorite sights:
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| This does not seem like very good urban planning, but I'm no civil engineer. |
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| I love lions. And all cats. And the intro to Chicago Bulls games. |
Monday, February 18, 2013
Getting what I wanted on Valentine's Day
Valentine's Day is long past, yet I'm still starry-eyed over how I spent that particular holiday evening.
Given the name and focus of my blog, it should come as no surprise that it has to do with running rather than romance.
I woke up that morning expecting to do my interval run while the sun shone and high temperatures approached 40 degrees — I had the night shift — but at the last minute, a co-worker with an earlier shift asked me to switch.
I found myself looking at 7 p.m. freedom. Everyone asked what I was going to do with that sudden bonus, and I think everyone was disappointed with my answer: run intervals and take a long, hot shower.
Everyone, that is, except for me. And that's what matters.
It was a little chilly and quite a bit dark when I got outside, but I knew the sidewalks were clear, and I trusted my headlamp to illuminate any other dangers for me.
Despite losing my Kleenex sometime during the warmup (sorry, environment), it was a solid workout: consistent times, great speed and strong recovery. When I add more repeats later in the training cycle, I think the fatigue will slow me down just a bit, to the speed I think/hope I can sustain over a 5K race.
The best part of this workout, though, was how fantastic it made everything else after that. I've said it before, but a warm meal and long, hot shower become earth-shatteringly good. And the combination of all that made the couch — and later, my bed — feel like heaven.
My heart was all a-flutter, the light was low, and the sleep was blissful. What more, besides a foot rub, could a runner ask for on Valentine's Day?
Given the name and focus of my blog, it should come as no surprise that it has to do with running rather than romance.
I woke up that morning expecting to do my interval run while the sun shone and high temperatures approached 40 degrees — I had the night shift — but at the last minute, a co-worker with an earlier shift asked me to switch.
I found myself looking at 7 p.m. freedom. Everyone asked what I was going to do with that sudden bonus, and I think everyone was disappointed with my answer: run intervals and take a long, hot shower.
Everyone, that is, except for me. And that's what matters.
It was a little chilly and quite a bit dark when I got outside, but I knew the sidewalks were clear, and I trusted my headlamp to illuminate any other dangers for me.
Despite losing my Kleenex sometime during the warmup (sorry, environment), it was a solid workout: consistent times, great speed and strong recovery. When I add more repeats later in the training cycle, I think the fatigue will slow me down just a bit, to the speed I think/hope I can sustain over a 5K race.
The best part of this workout, though, was how fantastic it made everything else after that. I've said it before, but a warm meal and long, hot shower become earth-shatteringly good. And the combination of all that made the couch — and later, my bed — feel like heaven.
My heart was all a-flutter, the light was low, and the sleep was blissful. What more, besides a foot rub, could a runner ask for on Valentine's Day?
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
The runs that made a believer out of me
I went out with purpose Friday and Monday: Hal Higdon said to run fast on the former, I decided to target half marathon pace on the latter.
Both were achieved. Couch time and cookies were definitely earned.
I almost whiffed, though: On Friday, I checked and rechecked the weather widget in hopes it would say something different than still-below-freezing and strong wind gusts. It never did.
"But how am I gonna run faaaaast?" I wondered petulantly. "Should I go tomorrow morning, even though I work the night shift tonight and have an earlier start tomorrow and the temperature is expected to drop?"
Yeah. I shut up and went. First on a half-mile warmup, which served my head well (in knowing when the wind was going to punish me later) and my legs even better.
The first 1.5 mile of my out-and-back was slightly downhill and with the wind at my back, so I was happy but unsurprised to see an 8:30 average pace at the turnaround point. Now for the wind to be in my face before I hit the uphill section. Gulp.
I did stop once, and I did experience a minor technical error (to be discussed in a later post), but as I surpassed 2.75 miles, I realized I was in a race against the clock ... that I could win. The seconds ticked toward 26:00; the hundredth-miles slipped away at what felt like an agonizing slow pace but was somehow faster than MapMyRun's timer.
End result: 3 miles, 25:48. Had I continued to a full 5K, I wouldn't have beat my PR — I'd averaged 8:35 – but I beat my previous three-mile PR by at least a minute. That's including the time I spent but didn't record.
More importantly, I'd shown myself that last fall's 8:29 wasn't a fluke.
And most importantly, I'd shown myself that with weeks more of practice, 8:22 isn't beyond possibility.
My next run was successfully delayed by the weather ("But it's icyyyyy!"), but also ultimately successful (when it happened a day late).
I headed into the five-miler hoping to stick around 9:30 per mile, my ambitious goal for April's half marathon. The end splits: 9:26, 9:22, 9:04, 9:04, 9:24, for an average of 9:17. Bonus fact: This route included my least-favorite hill (an overpass, actually), other elevation variation and wind in my face for half the run.
Just like with Friday's record-setting run, the muscles at times were reluctant, the stomach complained on occasion, and the lungs burned once in a while. And yet I came back with all the numbers I sought.
Right now, I couldn't attain either of the goals I set for myself in January. But after only two full weeks back running, I'm greatly encouraged that I can come near, if not attain, those goals once I've put three months of work in.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Attempting a 2012 goal for the first time since February
Throughout the Holiday Run Streak – now at 11, assuming (safely) that I run today — I've thought to myself: "At least one of the single-mile runs I do should be fast." While I have no qualms about using one slow mile as a stand-in for a rest day, I don't want to baby myself, either.
Yesterday was my first such attempt. Having been out late the night before, my hopes were not high. I knew that, with moderate effort, I could most likely finish in less than nine minutes, though.
Off I went. The first quarter-mile, I succeeded in keeping the pace I do on my faster intervals. The wind and the yogurt I'd eaten pre-run were mostly vague irritants more than hindrances.
As I've mentioned before, in my four years of running, I still haven't nailed "don't go out too fast and totally wipe yourself out." During the second quarter-mile, I felt cautiously optimistic that this was a good pacing day; I wasn't going to sustain this pace for 5K, but it was comfortably hard rather than excruciating.
I turned around at the half-mile mark. No surprise, then, that my legs felt the heaviest during the third quarter-mile. My lungs weren't exactly happy with me, either. However, my ego was doing just fine, having seen that I'd done a little over a half-mile in 4:10. The very likely positive split wouldn't keep me from finishing under 9:00.
The desire to get this over with powered me through the final quarter-mile. I've found "you can do anything for two minutes" to be a pretty powerful positive self-talk, so I went to that well almost nonstop during the final 0.25. I was sucking air fairly hard, but even worse was how the morning's yogurt and the previous night's alcohol were sloshing around in my stomach.
Finally I hit 1.00. My time? 7:57.
Let me repeat: 7:57.
Back in February, I'd set three running goals for myself: finish the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge, run a mile in 8:00 and average a 9:00 pace for a 5K (which I'd forgotten about, until re-reading my blog post).
At the time, I'm sure I expected to succeed in the first and fail at the second two. But as it stands right now, I've missed the first and nailed the second two. (Remember the Remembrance Run 5K?)
Plus, I've done more than survive the two speed challenges. I've finished maybe not with a smile, but with a great rush of endorphins and that ridiculous feeling that I can do anything once I get into some dry clothes and chug a big glass of water.
I'm still pinching myself: 7:57. I hope my gym teachers are reading this.
Yesterday was my first such attempt. Having been out late the night before, my hopes were not high. I knew that, with moderate effort, I could most likely finish in less than nine minutes, though.
Off I went. The first quarter-mile, I succeeded in keeping the pace I do on my faster intervals. The wind and the yogurt I'd eaten pre-run were mostly vague irritants more than hindrances.
As I've mentioned before, in my four years of running, I still haven't nailed "don't go out too fast and totally wipe yourself out." During the second quarter-mile, I felt cautiously optimistic that this was a good pacing day; I wasn't going to sustain this pace for 5K, but it was comfortably hard rather than excruciating.
I turned around at the half-mile mark. No surprise, then, that my legs felt the heaviest during the third quarter-mile. My lungs weren't exactly happy with me, either. However, my ego was doing just fine, having seen that I'd done a little over a half-mile in 4:10. The very likely positive split wouldn't keep me from finishing under 9:00.
The desire to get this over with powered me through the final quarter-mile. I've found "you can do anything for two minutes" to be a pretty powerful positive self-talk, so I went to that well almost nonstop during the final 0.25. I was sucking air fairly hard, but even worse was how the morning's yogurt and the previous night's alcohol were sloshing around in my stomach.
Finally I hit 1.00. My time? 7:57.
Let me repeat: 7:57.
Back in February, I'd set three running goals for myself: finish the Rock River 1000 Mile Challenge, run a mile in 8:00 and average a 9:00 pace for a 5K (which I'd forgotten about, until re-reading my blog post).
At the time, I'm sure I expected to succeed in the first and fail at the second two. But as it stands right now, I've missed the first and nailed the second two. (Remember the Remembrance Run 5K?)
Plus, I've done more than survive the two speed challenges. I've finished maybe not with a smile, but with a great rush of endorphins and that ridiculous feeling that I can do anything once I get into some dry clothes and chug a big glass of water.
I'm still pinching myself: 7:57. I hope my gym teachers are reading this.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Getting back into intervals
When I was training for my second half marathon, I did 400-meter repeats, because that's what Hal Higdon told me to do.
I didn't have a smartphone then, so I picked a spot based on easy measurements rather than on optimal terrain. Nor did I have a clear idea of interval pace versus recovery pace. Going slightly downhill at top speed could be fun, but that wore off quickly after just a few recovery jogs up a long, slow incline.
When I was training for my third half marathon, I reluctantly returned to repeats — but I sure wasn't diligent about them.
However, I had a smartphone by then, which meant I could just start wherever a certain traffic-free rural road became mostly flat and run until MapMyRun told me to stop. The plan wasn't perfect: There was still a slight drop and an oh-so-helpful tailwind as I sprinted; there was still a slight incline and frustrating headwind as I recovered.
Plus, I still went too fast, but at least this time — having read that if you have to stop and gasp for breath, you're going too hard — I was aware of the problem. (But not quite able to stop it.)
Now, I'm not training for anything in particular, which I realized yesterday morning is not optimal. But with evidence of potential improvement in my 5K PR, I decided that it was time to raise the bar a little bit and sought help from Twitter.
Brad of On the bus ... Running answered: 400-meter repeats. More importantly, he recommended using the McMillan Running Calculator to determine what my times should be. I'm sure I've read/heard about the calculator before but just forgotten. Kind of like how I knew intervals were helpful for improving, but "forgot."
Anyway, yesterday's intervals went as follows: 2:02, 2:00, 2:00, 1:58, 2:00, 2:02.
I gave myself major pats on the back for the following: consistency, rather than flying and crashing; proper route choice, with no hills either way and all gusts coming during recovery jogs; mostly continued movement, even after the sprints.
As for the McMillan suggestions? I came up a little fast if I'm treating this as a stamina workout (2:06 to 2:10), a little slow if I'm treating it as a speed workout (1:49.5 to 1:55.5 for speedsters, 1:50.9 to 1:57.8 for endurance monsters).
So I'm a little off, but I'm very much encouraged. At no point did I consider keeling over, which was a frequent problem in past interval sessions; it's just that next time, I might consider being a little bit less comfortable.
Is it improved fitness, improved weather or improved feel for pacing that got me through? I'd like to think it's a mix of all three (because I can't deny that this fall has been better for running than last spring).
I didn't have a smartphone then, so I picked a spot based on easy measurements rather than on optimal terrain. Nor did I have a clear idea of interval pace versus recovery pace. Going slightly downhill at top speed could be fun, but that wore off quickly after just a few recovery jogs up a long, slow incline.
When I was training for my third half marathon, I reluctantly returned to repeats — but I sure wasn't diligent about them.
However, I had a smartphone by then, which meant I could just start wherever a certain traffic-free rural road became mostly flat and run until MapMyRun told me to stop. The plan wasn't perfect: There was still a slight drop and an oh-so-helpful tailwind as I sprinted; there was still a slight incline and frustrating headwind as I recovered.
Plus, I still went too fast, but at least this time — having read that if you have to stop and gasp for breath, you're going too hard — I was aware of the problem. (But not quite able to stop it.)
Now, I'm not training for anything in particular, which I realized yesterday morning is not optimal. But with evidence of potential improvement in my 5K PR, I decided that it was time to raise the bar a little bit and sought help from Twitter.
Brad of On the bus ... Running answered: 400-meter repeats. More importantly, he recommended using the McMillan Running Calculator to determine what my times should be. I'm sure I've read/heard about the calculator before but just forgotten. Kind of like how I knew intervals were helpful for improving, but "forgot."
Anyway, yesterday's intervals went as follows: 2:02, 2:00, 2:00, 1:58, 2:00, 2:02.
I gave myself major pats on the back for the following: consistency, rather than flying and crashing; proper route choice, with no hills either way and all gusts coming during recovery jogs; mostly continued movement, even after the sprints.
As for the McMillan suggestions? I came up a little fast if I'm treating this as a stamina workout (2:06 to 2:10), a little slow if I'm treating it as a speed workout (1:49.5 to 1:55.5 for speedsters, 1:50.9 to 1:57.8 for endurance monsters).
So I'm a little off, but I'm very much encouraged. At no point did I consider keeling over, which was a frequent problem in past interval sessions; it's just that next time, I might consider being a little bit less comfortable.
Is it improved fitness, improved weather or improved feel for pacing that got me through? I'd like to think it's a mix of all three (because I can't deny that this fall has been better for running than last spring).
Thursday, October 4, 2012
My adventures in trying to run fast
Thrilled with my Remembrance Run 5K results, I decided that it was high time — after 3.5 years of running — to push harder. I'd seen what I could do, after all.
After three attempts to repeat said speed, I'm starting to fear that I peaked Sept. 30, 2012.
On my first attempt, a too-strong start had me gassed before I hit the hilly portion. Those hills, by the way, weren't supposed to be there. Splits: 8:35, 8:22, 9:03, 8:58, for an average of 8:44.
On my second attempt, I knew what I'd done wrong the first time. That didn't mean I was able to avoid repeating it. Splits: 8:19, 8:18, 9:44, 9:20 for an average of 8:56.
CAVEAT: I fudged my numbers the first time by pausing the clock for things like nose-blowing, retying of shoes and catching my breath/swearing. I was more honest the second time, resulting in some larger numbers.
On my third attempt, I went with some boring out-and-backs along a not-quite-mile-long, flat stretch. Surely this would help, right? Wrong. Over 3.35 miles, I did average 8:47, with another incredibly speedy first mile catching up to me on the following 2.35 miles.
None of this was fun, except for each run's first mile. I was frequently angry and in some sort of discomfort. Surprisingly warm weather on one day and surprisingly strong winds on another contributed to my frustration.
During one low moment, though, a perfectly timed quote floated into my head: "If it were easy, everyone would do it."
That doesn't magically make it all kittens and bon-bons — I still feel only an average amount of accomplishment after these runs — but it does remind me to be a little more rational and realistic.
For example: Perhaps instead of repeatedly trying to run four miles at a pace I only achieved during a 5K full of positive peer pressure, I should remember all the advice I've heard/read about good speed workouts and do one each week.
Instead of assuming that one extraordinary race meant I'd learned pacing and mental endurance overnight, I should expect a learning curve. Even after 3.5 years.
And finally, instead of being grouchy about my failure to relive the magic, I should applaud myself once more for ever finding appropriate race-day aggression — I earned that medal.
After three attempts to repeat said speed, I'm starting to fear that I peaked Sept. 30, 2012.
On my first attempt, a too-strong start had me gassed before I hit the hilly portion. Those hills, by the way, weren't supposed to be there. Splits: 8:35, 8:22, 9:03, 8:58, for an average of 8:44.
On my second attempt, I knew what I'd done wrong the first time. That didn't mean I was able to avoid repeating it. Splits: 8:19, 8:18, 9:44, 9:20 for an average of 8:56.
CAVEAT: I fudged my numbers the first time by pausing the clock for things like nose-blowing, retying of shoes and catching my breath/swearing. I was more honest the second time, resulting in some larger numbers.
On my third attempt, I went with some boring out-and-backs along a not-quite-mile-long, flat stretch. Surely this would help, right? Wrong. Over 3.35 miles, I did average 8:47, with another incredibly speedy first mile catching up to me on the following 2.35 miles.
None of this was fun, except for each run's first mile. I was frequently angry and in some sort of discomfort. Surprisingly warm weather on one day and surprisingly strong winds on another contributed to my frustration.
During one low moment, though, a perfectly timed quote floated into my head: "If it were easy, everyone would do it."
That doesn't magically make it all kittens and bon-bons — I still feel only an average amount of accomplishment after these runs — but it does remind me to be a little more rational and realistic.
For example: Perhaps instead of repeatedly trying to run four miles at a pace I only achieved during a 5K full of positive peer pressure, I should remember all the advice I've heard/read about good speed workouts and do one each week.
Instead of assuming that one extraordinary race meant I'd learned pacing and mental endurance overnight, I should expect a learning curve. Even after 3.5 years.
And finally, instead of being grouchy about my failure to relive the magic, I should applaud myself once more for ever finding appropriate race-day aggression — I earned that medal.
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