Three additions to my long run routine

I incorporated three suggestions from various sources into my long run effort last Friday: 9 miles in 1:25:37, for a 9:30 pace. What they were, and how they went:

1. A new breathing method. I'd just read an article about rhythmic breathing the day before in the latest issue of Runner's World. The idea is that if you alternate which foot you land on as you inhale, rather than having it be the same one, you'll split the total impact of landing rather than concentrating it all on one foot.

That means you have to inhale longer than you exhale, or as I internalized it, "in-two-three out-two, in-two-three out-two." Seemed complicated -- I wasn't the star student of my marching band -- and a little silly. Like when the yoga instructor would insist that you inhale during one half of the pose and exhale on the other half.

Yet just like yoga breathing, rhythmic breathing seemed to work. I don't know why I decided to try it, but for about 75 percent of the run, I made the effort, and for about 66 percent of the run, I was successful in doing it.

As the article author promised, it helped get me in my zone and, more importantly for me, it kept me from speeding up too much: Faster strides meant shorter inhalation and even shorter exhalation. And afterward, I noticed that my right bunion, which has been crabby, was much quieter than it had been.

Hmm ...

2. Energy gels. A friend/co-worker/half-Ironman was the latest to remind me that you can't just run a half marathon on water and expect to keep your energy up.

So I picked up a few energy gels at Scheels and tried out the Clif chocolate-flavored one around mile 5.5 ... after which I kept close to gas stations and fast-food restaurants, in case of emergency. (Fortunately, all I had was one isolated incident of acid reflux around the eight-mile mark.)

It's tough to truly compare my two most recent long runs -- one gel-free, one with gel -- because the terrain and weather always play heavily into how I feel. For instance, the miles leading up to the last one were much better on the eight-miler, thanks to some wind, hills and traffic stops on the nine-miler; the final mile of the niner was flat and therefore infinitely smoother than the eight-miler's last one.

But the gel didn't cause me to throw up (or do worse!), so I'll keep practicing with them. Gotta get better at tearing off the top and eating as I go.

3. Foam rollers. I passed a sales associate at Scheels carrying the roller I was about to buy, and her eyes lit up. "YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE THAT!" she exclaimed. It was weird, yet encouraging.

And accurate. I can throw out the packaging, because there's no way I'm returning it. How can something that causes pain -- like, I literally groaned a few times while using it -- also cause me such joy? Why did I repeat the movements on my glutes and IT band despite the discomfort it inflicted on me during the first time?

Because, hours of sitting later, I was hardly stiff from running nine miles, and the spots that were sore had been neglected by the foam roller.

This isn't the first running trend I've been years behind on -- as you saw in the first two chunks -- but my God, it's the one I'm angriest about missing.

Confession: My timing was off

A few changes occurred in my running habits after my move to the Des Moines metro area.

It began with the whole "you're an undersized woman in a totally unfamiliar city" thing, which prompted me to bring my cellphone on almost literally every run.

That then led to a newfound interest in and dedication to timing my runs, which has spawned a new set of questions: When I stop, do I stop the timer as well?

This is more complicated than it sounds. I'll start with the less shameful subquestion: What do I do when it's traffic that's halting me?

I've approached this from a couple angles. On the one hand, it's not 100 percent my decision to stop (yes, jaywalking is an option, but traffic's flow doesn't always allow it). On the other hand, it frequently benefits me, such as when a busy intersection is in the middle of a long uphill. Or, while it might help me catch my breath, doesn't it also give my muscles a chance to stiffen up and break my rhythm?

Ultimately, I suppose, on race day this mostly becomes a moot point; I've only encountered auto traffic in one race over the course (ha!) of my career.

The more guilt-inducing subquestion, though, is whether it's legitimate to pause the clock when I'm the only one forcing myself to stop — whether it's a sinus issue, a loose shoelace or just shortness of breath.

My rule of thumb has been wholly self-serving. If I walk, I keep the timer going, but if I stop for any length of time — be it for the traffic question or the wimpiness question — I pause the GPS. My justification is that I know I don't have that luxury on race day, but that in training, I don't have the luxury of extrinsic motivation (the no-excuses race clock).

All of this rationalization fell apart Friday, when I set a three-mile PR. My pride in the achievement was tempered by a timing glitch and a deliberate timing alteration.

First, the glitch: As I approached the entrance to a small strip mall, I slowed down to let a car turn in. The car's driver, however, stopped upon seeing me and waved me through. After I reached the other side, I realized I must've bumped the timer and paused it — so I hastily hit "resume." This alone wouldn't have added more than 12 seconds onto my time, though.

What would have added 12 seconds onto my time, at least, was the break I took after running west, into the wind, and preparing to turn north, possibly still into the wind and definitely slightly uphill.

I paused. Blew my nose. Gave myself a silent and speedy pep talk. And off I went to finish out my three miles.

When the final time read 25:48, I was elated. It took a few minutes for me to realize that it was a tarnished PR. I'd been able to dismiss my slight worries about pausing for any number of reasons, be it my fault or just stoplight synchronization, because I hadn't been notching any times of which I should actually be proud.

It doesn't resolve the stoplight question, but I think it's resolved the other ones: As I practiced race pace Monday, I sacrificed seconds during mile five — ultimately, the second-slowest — to take a Kleenex break.

So now that I've made my confession, anyone out there care to weigh in on the traffic question?