Two steps forward, one step back

After my sports massage Wednesday, I was of course very interested to see how my hip would feel during runs.

I went on a short run Thursday, not quite 24 hours after the massage, and the hip felt much better, though I could still feel it at times. 

But Friday, even though I was working harder (it was hill day), I rarely felt the hip tenderness at all. When I did, I would shorten my stride, and it seemed to go away entirely. Woo-hoo!

On Sunday, Cory and I did a seven-mile run, starting with five mostly flat miles from our apartment up Polk Boulevard and back, then concluding with two miles along 28th Street.

Mostly I felt great during that run. The back of my right knee did have some twinges during the five-mile portion, which concerned me a little bit. 

The good news was that it went away; the bad news was that it was replaced with hip twinges during the 28th Street portion. I'm chalking that up to fatigue. 

So all in all, a very successful half-week ... which, unfortunately, I almost completely undid on Monday.

Monday was insanely nice, weatherwise: high of 84 degrees, low humidity, mostly sunny. All of that, plus the minimal soreness I had after the previous day's long run, meant I threw caution to the wind and went for a shakeout three-miler.

Wrong choice. It wasn't a bad run, but it was an unexpected challenge that I'm still feeling a little sore from. I felt worse after that three-miler than I did after Sunday's seven-miler.

I shouldn't have run at all — should've found some other way to enjoy the weather — and if I did have to run, I should've stuck to a route I knew to be flat, no matter how many times I've already run that route.

Oh well. I'll look at it from Cory's perspective: that I seized a good chance to "shock" my system with a weather change (which of course was what happened on race day in 2013).

Eating my words, spring half marathon edition

As promised, here comes my explanation for signing up for a spring half marathon, something I declared I wouldn't do again*.

The best explanation I have to offer is that this is a practice half marathon (there I go again, saying things that only "real" runners say).

A half marathon registration forces me to run, and that the training program puts me in optimum 5K shape, which I need in order to redeem myself after last year's Friendly Sons fail.

Yes, I could do these things without spending $60 to wear myself out on my day off work. I could also totally bail out on the financial commitment.

I probably won't do either, though. I'll spend two month being some combination of sore, sleepy and starving, complain about it the entire time, and then (finally) be grateful I did at the end of each race.

Nonrunners and some really intrinsically motivated runners might not understand, but I have full faith that most other runners are nodding their heads emphatically or empathetically.

My choice of race — the Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon — might also have some of you wondering about my sanity. In descending order of importance, my reasons for picking it are:

1. It's a month-plus earlier than Dam to Dam and on my regular day off of work. The timing thus hopefully works better for training and racing weather, and it definitely lines up better with the 5K race date.

2. The horrible hills at the end of this route are very close to where I live, so I can prepare myself — it won't make them that much easier, but it'll help me, mentally.

3. I know the route is a beast, and I know that race-day weather is a total crapshoot. With that in mind, I'm highly unlikely to secretly and/or realistically think about a PR attempt during what's supposed to be a shake-it-out event.

4. Cory and I were able to guilt friends into joining us. (Zach and Emily are totally going down.)

Base-building is in progress right now; full-on training starts Feb. 16-ish. Wish me luck.

* Have you noticed that of my first four posts in 2015, half of them address me retracting previous posts. So much humble pie.

Upcoming race: Girls on the Run 5K

It turns out that this weekend is Noncompetitive Charity 5K Weekend for me.

Tomorrow is my beloved Woofin' It 5K, and tonight, as I learned just two days ago, is the local Girls on the Run chapter's 5K.

This came about through book club. Back in April, one member mentioned she'd been coaching Girls on the Run and might need a few adult runners to help out at the final event — she'd check with other leaders and let us know.

I never heard anything, so I assumed they had enough adults. Actually, they didn't, and that information didn't make its way to my book buddy until this past Wednesday.

Fortunately, my boss was able to adjust my work schedule just a little bit, so I could then make good on my weeks-ago offer to accompany a young runner.

My understanding is, all I need to do is encourage my buddy to keep running and not walk. Shouldn't be too hard, unless I'm matched with a future track star who leaves me in her dust.

I also intend to appreciate Raccoon River Park, where I haven't been since my epic 5K last fall, and which should be springlike enough to make me believe winter is over.

And it'll be a chance for me to participate in, as well as observe, the running community's incredible supportiveness.

As I was either biking or running recently — I can't remember which — I found myself thinking about my experiences as a relative n00b in both areas.

Bicyclists seem happy to share their sport, but something about runners has always put me more at ease, regardless of my skill and knowledge gap.

Maybe it's that most of us agree running is harder, so runners have to go the extra mile (ha!) to welcome newcomers.

Or maybe it's because one's body is easier to understand than one's bicycle, if you're not mechanically inclined. And it could also be that I entered running with so little knowledge that being clueless wasn't embarrassing — it was expected.

Regardless: I'll be paying the Rockford, Ill., running crew's good deeds from 2009 to present forward tonight.

Race report: Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K

Did you bet on a victory from me at the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K? I hope not, because I came up short on every goal.

That's not to say I didn't even manage to have fun — before and after the race, I did enjoy myself. (And during the race, when a tiny dog who lived on the race route totally bandited it, I grinned.) So let's focus on that.

It was Annah's first 5K ever, though funnily enough she's done a half marathon, and it went great for her.

All of the advice she sought from me over the weekend was either right or not-wrong, because she ran the whole way and finished in about 42 minutes, much faster than her goal/prediction of 45:00.

I spotted her during the out-and-back course, as well as Cory and book clubber Stephanie, and she looked strong. She still looked good as she crossed the finish line — less smiley than in our pre-race selfie, but much more determined:

Three friends who had planned to run actually weren't able to, but they showed up in surprise support.

Pam and Marco fought through a flu bug to cheer on Annah (Cory and I had finished by the time they arrived), and Joel woke up obscenely early to drive back from a college-friend reunion weeked in Columbia, Mo., in time for Annah's big finish.

As we stood around enjoying the free beer afterwards, we happened to notice that 5K times had already been posted, so we meandered over to see what we'd officially done.

"What's that one next to my name mean?" Cory asked when we found his time. It means a trophy for finishing first in your age group, you speed demon! (23:14, and that includes the amount of time it took to get to the official start.)

Race trophy and trophy girlfriend. Cory had a good Sunday.

Annah rocked, Cory rocked, and Stephanie rocked, coming in just behind Cory. What about me?

I finished in 26:22, walking probably six times and finishing almost a minute off my last year's time (not to mention how far away from my PR I was). There's nothing I can blame it on but myself, not weather or terrain or training-plan gaps: I was just incredibly mentally weak.

I could analyze it and point out the positives in my splits, and of course I did those things over post-race food and beer.

But it's long over now, and I'd rather remember my genuine happiness for those who did well, the sunshine and support at the afterparty, and the summery weather we kept soaking up on our post-race bike ride.

Let the obsessing over race-day-weather begin!

Today's a big day for my race-day prep ... March 30 popped up in the 10-day weather outlook!

Often this milestone creeps up on me, but because this year so far has been a series of prolonged cold stretches sandwiching tiny pockets of pleasant weather, I'd been peeking at the longer-term outlook quite a bit already.

And while I've been trying to keep a stiff upper lip — "guys, 40s aren't that bad!" — I have to admit that my spirits and running motivation have been rising and falling with the temperatures.

So thank God that it's 10-day-outlook-checking time, because while the next few days look rather chilly, March 30 is currently forecast to be a balmy 66 degrees.

I must find comfort in worrying about what I can't control — and what's not even all that certain, to boot! — because I've been doing this with all my races in the past few years.

To be fair, the (few) ups and (many) downs of 2014's temperatures have prepared me for most of what a Midwest spring can throw my way, and it's only a 5K for which I have a pretty generous range of personal goals.

I'll keep checking back, though, if only to eagerly anticipate springlike temperatures.

It *is* just like riding a bike

I went on my first bike ride of 2014 on Monday, and appropriately enough, given that it was St. Patrick's Day, it was a little bit of an adventure.

Mostly it was a cinch, making the inspiration for the cliche obvious. And when it wasn't ... as Regina pointed out, maybe I was just getting my snafus out of the way early on.

For instance, I was nervous about using a bike lane for the first few miles of my first ride of the season. Fortunately, traffic was fairly light and didn't scare me onto the trails forever.

But while on a trail, I got too distracted by a huge chunk of glass in an intersection with the road and forgot to watch turning traffic. The car that I headed obliviously toward was going slowly enough — or cautiously enough — that we had more of an awkward standoff than a close call, thankfully.

Maybe it just served to startle me straight, so that hours later, I was fully expecting a pickup truck to completely blow a red light and just waited on my side of the intersection.

Sharing the road on St. Patrick's Day might not have been the best idea, in retrospect. But it saved us about three or four miles on the return.

During the stop-and-start portion of the ride, I was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly I was able to slide my feet in and out of the pedal cages. Normally it seems to take a few weeks before I pick that skill back up.

One thing I didn't count on, though, was how the still-early-spring temperatures would affect my toes. I wound up falling into a crosswalk light post because my slightly numb feet couldn't catch the ground fast enough.

It turns out I still have some strength, because I didn't whine too much about the small hills we encountered, the time flew, and I barely noticed any soreness the next day.

What I don't have, though, is the proper equipment for riding at night anymore. My taillight was sacrificed to RAGBRAI, and the miner's headlamp I wear around my waist could use help lighting the way in front of me, too.

All in all, it was a great way to celebrate safely and break the ice on getting back into biking.

Magical Monday

Like everyone else in the Midwest, I took so much heart from the conditions on Monday.

There was, of course, the sheer relief that the polar vortex isn't a permanent fixture.

And the luxuriating in how good sun and 68 degrees felt on my my skin as Regina and I ran in T-shirts and shorts/capris. (I actually came close to too-warm. When was the last time that happened?)

As we looped Gray's Lake, the effort seemed minimal and the pace surprisingly fast. We chatted without struggle, always coming back to "but seriously, is today real?" because of just how demoralizing the endless stretches of deep cold had been for everyone.

"Pretty much you were the only one who didn't just give up on running," Regina observed.

Wait, what? "Oh, I definitely was miserable."

"Yeah, but you still got out there."

It was something I've told myself periodically all winter (along with variations on that theme). Unsurprisingly, though, it actually sinks in when people like Regina or Karla say it — they've been on the same strugglebus.

I hope I attain several of my 5K goals beyond "have fun." But if that's the only one I manage, I hope I remember and believe what fellow runners have said.

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.

Taking a stand against the weather swings

On St. Patrick's Day weekend — a dreary one, weatherwise, in Des Moines — I arrived at work Saturday to find my friend Annah in a hoodie, jeans and Birkenstocks.

When I applauded her courage/foolhardiness/hardy Michigan blood for wearing sandals, she shrugged off the praise.

"When the sandals come out, they're out. There's no going back," she said firmly. (We'd had at least one pleasant day earlier that week.)

I thought of that determination Monday as I did post-half-marathon laundry. All of my running clothes needed washing, but I had thought that some of the cold-weather gear might stay clean for a while.

The Midwest has something else in mind, I see, but I'm drawing inspiration from Annah as I write this: The spring gear is out, and it's staying out. I refuse to dirty all of my winter gear again.

This declaration, I admit, is somewhat less brave considering that I'm coming off a half marathon and thus can keep winter gear clean by "recuperating," i.e., not running.

It's also less dramatic when you realize that only two days are forecast to be below 50 degrees, which is when I begin thinking about covering more skin.

Nevertheless, I don't want to grow moss — so if you see a shorts-and-T-shirt-clad runner shivering at a stoplight this week, don't pity her. Salute her.

Figurative meltdown over a possible literal meltdown

One or two long runs left to go, at most, before the Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon.

The 11-miler's mapped out, and there are two days remaining this week on which I can do it. The high both days: 46 degrees at the most, depending on which weather site you consult.

Lower temperatures don't bother me; it's wind, humidity and heat that frustrate me. I'll be fine in this weather.

Moment of calm. Then —

But what about normal April weather? Or abnormal-in-the-opposite-direction April weather?

Weather.com, my bible, says the average high for April 28 in Des Moines is 67 degrees.

Moment of panic. Have I run more than once in that temperature yet this year? Have I run long on a day that reached the 60s yet this year, even? Maybe my nine-miler ... during the final few miles.

The 70-degree-day run had many complicating factors besides the heat, but wow, that was a tough run. My body is not used to sun and warmth.

If I keep my faith in Hal Higdon, I might have one chance to reacquaint myself with late-spring conditions. If I bow to the advice of the rest of the running world — end the long runs already! — I'll have well-rested but ignorant legs.

Breathe in and breathe out. The high doesn't hit until later in the day, and the race starts at 8 a.m.; it can't be worse than last year's half marathon, held on a day that reached 80 degrees.

I might be the only one in Iowa thinking this right now, but if there are weather gods and they're listening, I would really appreciate your keeping temperatures cool until April 29. Or even just after noon April 28.

My legs are so bright ...

Yesterday, the sun was shining; the temperature (both real and feels-like), well above freezing.

It was time to pull out summer running gear, which I did with only the slightest of hesitation. One can usually turn back around and change clothes, if the weather teases you as it did to our running club.

Into the living room I walked to get my phone, sunglasses and shoes. The cat was sitting, loaflike, on the couch, and I started to mock him for his sedentary tendencies ...

... and then I saw the look on his face. Yes, my cat was making a face, one usually reserved for squirrels and small children, at me: a mix of horror and disgust.

You can call me a crazy cat lady, but I swear he was revolted by my survivor-of-a-Midwest-winter legs. Their blinding whiteness and visible dryness offended his eyes.

And once I got outside and pulled my sunglasses on, I too sneaked a fearful glance at my gams. Not even tinted lenses could hide how pale they were.

But on the plus side, at least they match my feet (which won't be true after a few months of wearing socks and shorts this summer).