Progress report on Hy-Vee Half Marathon training

I have been a very diligent little runner this spring, and it seems to be paying off.

Of course this year, I haven't had to contend with the polar vortex, so skipping workouts has been harder to justify.

Nor have I brought my phone on most of my long runs — I get tired of holding it and of obsessing over the statistics. Also, Cory has joined me on most of them, so I feel less likely to encounter trouble with no way of calling for help.

So that means I'm judging progress on feel alone, which is OK. I signed up for this half marathon to keep myself accountable in general and to get in tip-top shape for a spring 5K. (Mission accomplished.)

Here are my takeaways from the long runs so far, though.

Seven-miler: My parents had visited us this weekend, and while we hadn't indulged ourselves on a Roman emperor's level, we certainly hadn't skimped on the calories or hydrated optimally.

We also didn't head out until midafternoon on the first truly nice weekend Des Moines had seen all year, so temperatures were a little higher than what we were used to.

Nevertheless, I felt amazing through the first four or five miles. I did lose a little bit of giddy-up once we hit Bulldog Hill, which only surprised me because of how good I felt leading up to it, and how easy the hill had felt in earlier shorter and colder long runs.

Eight-miler: We left much earlier this time. It took me longer to find my groove during this run, but I did find it.

Our route also hit three hills that we'll encounter in the race: up from Gray's Lake, west on Grand Avenue from downtown, and up Bulldog Hill. Yep, definitely getting harder ... but not impossible.

Nine-miler: I noticed my enthusiasm shrivel once I put running clothes on, a sure signal that training is peaking and that race day had better be soon OR ELSE. (This is the second-to-last long run of the plan, so race day is close.)

If you were in Des Moines on Easter Sunday, you can easily imagine how this run took some effort. If you weren't — it was warm and windy. Not constantly windy, or constantly in-your-face windy, but definitely drying.

I felt slow and sluggish at first, probably because of both the weather and a lingering cold, and when we stopped for water around mile 5, I developed a side stitch. Good timing, as we had our three hills still ahead of us.

Either my random prodding of muscles worked, or my body handled the stitch on its own, because by the time we got up Grand to take on Bulldog Hill, I don't remember it being there anymore. In a way, I was glad for the wind, heat and cramps — any or all of these could happen on race day, so might as well be prepared.

Cory peeled off at 28th, so I had to do Bulldog Hill alone. Even without peer pressure, I did NOT cave and walk. But man, is that hill growing tougher as the runs get longer ...

Report from the sports masseuse's table

So, this post is mostly to help me remember the key points of today's sports massage and to remember the long-term value of the expense.

First: the issue. Tenderness in my right hip tends to crop up during the later part of half marathon training cycles, then fades away once I cut back on running.

It's been happening for a few half marathons now, but this time it's much earlier in the training cycle. And I've got a masseuse whose prices are totally reasonable, so I figured maybe it was time to get this issue figured out.

What Jake ended up targeting most was my TFL, which goes across the hip and hooks up to the IT band.

My understanding is, when that's tight, it makes a lot of other things tight — the IT band, the outside of the quad, parts of the glutes, the knee. Its tightness could also be coming from tightness in the lower back, all of which combines to pull the right hip up instead of keeping it level with the left.

I walked out feeing much more supple in my lower body; Jake said to wait a day or two to run, which I was planning on doing anyways based on my personal sked.

Here's what I learned and need to apply at home: Roll my hip over a lacrosse ball. Keep foam rolling the IT band and quads.

Stretch all tight muscles by flexing the opposing muscle (oh how I hope I can remember this if I get one of my every-few-years in-the-middle-of-a-sleep-cycle charley horse).

Do the series of stretches that we ended with, during which my flexibility was praised (OK, that's not helpful to anyone else reading this, but I got to work in some self-promotion, which is nice).

And so back to the comment about remembering the long-term value of the expense. I don't mean that as, I'm broke and/or massages are absurdly expensive.

What I mean is that I should think of them as preventive care rather than treats/rewards — more like the equivalent of spending more money on healthier options (compared with cheap, processed foods) than the equivalent of splurging on dinner out instead of eating at home.

You know you're an outdoor runner when ...

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.

Half marathon training is officially underway

Training for the Drake relays half marathon is officially underway, based on two factors:

1. The calendar.

2. My dreams.

This past week, I've already had two running-related dreams. The more recent one was pleasant and inspiration: I realized that while I'd been missing workouts, I'd been consistently doing my long runs, and doing them well.

Earlier this week, though, I dreamed that I was doing a half marathon, in which even my stop for a meal (?) didn't halt my momentum through mile eight or 10.

What totally derailed me in this dream race was reaching the indoor portion of this race. As soon as I got inside the building, I struggled to figure out the route and had a total and complete meltdown.

It wasn't even a PR-attempt race, but I told my boyfriend that I was DONE, maybe even insisting that someone (him?) come pick me up — I wasn't even going to finish.

Fortunately, week one of the training schedule more resembles the first dream I described, not the second.

More on that once I have a bigger sample size of runs with a purpose.

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.

Putting my plan to the test

I opened 2015 the same way I've done for the past couple of years — by not running.

This time, though, I committed to not running. I sketched up my workout routine through the end of April as follows:

* First few days of January: Total rest.

* Weeks of Jan. 5 and Jan. 12: Moderate cross-training (biking, "Just Dance," yoga, walking).

* Week of Jan. 19: Mostly cross-training, but add a two-mile run.

* Week of Jan. 26: Two short runs, plus cross-training.

* Weeks of Feb. 2 and 9: Three runs a week.

* Week of Feb. 16: Vacation and recovery.

* Week of Feb. 23: Time to train for the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K, on March 29, and the Hy-Vee Half Marathon, on April 26. (Yes, I know I declared myself done with all spring half-marathons and this one in particular, but that's a post for another day.)

I designed this to achieve three goals: avoid spring-race-signup-overexcitement, which results in me getting tired of running long before said races; accommodate a nearly weeklong vacation; and acknowledge that Midwest winters can be beastly.

I'm confident that goals one and two — the one I can actually control — are in the books. As for the third one ... well, it turned out there wasn't much horrible weather in January to avoid. (It's here now! Just like the multiple-run weeks on my schedule!)

Let me be clear: I am NOT complaining about mild temperatures and dry skies. I'm just a little sad that my moment of clarity on winter workout planning came a year too late.

At least I'll have that spreadsheet ready for all the miserable Januaries to come.

My plan for returning to running

I haven't run in almost three weeks, but I have at least been thinking about it.

Specifically, I've taken time to be my own sports psychiatrist, and I've diagnosed myself as needing to ease back into running and learn to like it again.

So here's what I've come up with.

July 1: Open my mind back up to running. Twice a week at most. With only the expectation that it won't be easy or fast.

July 27-Aug. 3: Relax and rest up after RAGBRAI.

Aug. 4: Start a 10K training plan.

Last year, I started training for a half marathon at the beginning of August, right after I'd done RAGBRAI, and it worked out great. This year, the thought of doing that makes me tired and overheated.

As my hairdresser said when I told her I'd most likely skip the 2014 Des Moines Half Marathon: "Yeah, you wanna have fun during the summer."

Yes, I do. I like having something on the horizon, but the local long races are just too close to the dog days of August and two months of intensive biking.

A 10K seemed better-suited to the conditions. Plus, I've never done a road 10K race — only a nighttime trail one — so it'll be interesting to see what I can do.

Sept. 8: Do the Maffitt Lake five-mile. This should be the right combination of fun and challenging — i.e., exactly the kind of carrot/motivation I need.

Fun, because off-road running is scenic and lets me lower my expectations for myself without feeling like I'm a wimp, and challenging, because Living History Farms is the only off-road running I've done since moving to Des Moines.

Sept. 20 or 21: Do a 10K. Preferably the one on a Sunday, if I can find sign-up info and not just a date on the local sports store's race calendar.

Sept. 28: Do the Brew Mile. I again won't have time to do much mile-specific training, but I'll have more residual strength than I did before the Grand Blue Mile.

I'll have the power of the crowds pulling me along, and because I work Saturdays, I'll have the advantage of sobriety over the participants who have already hit up Oktoberfest.

Oct. 11: Do the Boone County 5K History Walk/Run. I'd better start thinking about a clever costume that also allows for good movement, because this time of year is much better for running.

If my schedule and motivation level allow, I might look for a serious 5K in hopes of breaking my PR, but I'm not going to stress about it. I'd rather be a little lazy the rest of this year than risk ruining my hobby for myself.

RAGBRAI training report, two weeks in

As I mentioned last week, RAGBRAI crept up on me while I was fretting about Dam to Dam.

So I'm happy to declare today that I feel positive about the state of my seat, about two weeks into training.

I did download the training plan; I do look at it; I do write down my mileage; and I have compared my weekly totals to what the plan suggests. Key word — suggests.

Here's my approach so far:

* Go on a long ride each week.

* Get a ride in the day after that, if possible.

* Incorporate a hill in most recreational rides.

* Design loops to avoid trail fatigue.

* Ride to places far away at which you need just one, portable thing. (Examples thus far: produce from a quarter-share in a CSA from a Johnston apartment complex; medicine from a pharmacy at 100th and Douglas in Urbandale.)

* Invite people to join at least portions of the rides.

It's only two weeks in, but I feel comfortable with this attitude, and I feel comfortable in my fitness level. It's not perfect, but it's good enough, and it'll get better.

What's helpful is having done RAGBRAI last year, and with the same people I'm doing it with this year — I know their tendencies, and this time I'll know how to balance my own with theirs.

Basically that means ride my pace, rather than struggle to keep up, because I don't like prolonged stops anyways. Let them get their first beer out of the way before I hop off the saddle.

Our long ride on Sunday — 75 flat miles — was critical to both realizing I'm on the right track, fitnesswise, and to reminding me of my riding preferences versus others'.

The next test: not falling off the wagon over the next two weeks, which are fairly busy with nonbiking commitments.

Holy smokes, RAGBRAI is close

Good thing I embraced Bike Month, because RAGBRAI is basically almost here.

Of course I exaggerate — slightly. But I did just download the training plan and do a double-take at how few weeks remain on it.

I do have a couple long rides under my belt and more of the medium-length rides that the plan incorporates. The longest of those even involved heat, humidity and a few hills.

So I think it's fair to assume I at least managed to develop a base before the real training.

One good development: the fact that a team member spoke ominously about the hilliness of this year's route, causing me to panic every time I had to work hard going uphill.

How is that good? It means that I've at least vowed to hit the horrific Neal Smith Trail hill once a week, and that when my options for traveling by bike are short-and-hilly or twice-as-long-but-flat, I feel obliged to pick the former.

Another good development: Training for Dam to Dam kept me from burning myself out on biking. (Granted, the fact that I did both meant I felt like I mastered neither, but that's another story.)

I remember last year, when I dutifully followed the weeklong rider plan for four days of RAGBRAI, I found myself tiring of riding.

I have no intention of ramping up the training plan to "make up" for the lost month, so I should be much mentally fresher this time around.

Scratch those second-quarter goals

I recently had a pretty crappy run — definitely the worst one since my 5K dud or since any possibility of spring first emerged.

Because it was such a slog, I had plenty of time to re-evaluate some life choices and arrive at a few decisions.

These weren't the kind of decisions I spontaneously, angrily make while frustrated by a tough run ("I quit running!" being the most frequent). These were the culmination of a month's worth of observations.

The first big one is, my goal-setting has been far more ambitious than my goal-attempting.

It's obvious that some second-quarter goals were just not working out for me — namely "regain mental strength" (that one required a plan, more than just saying it) and "do 10 stair repeats in 10 minutes."

That latter goal was part of another big problem. My half-marathon training plan had too many pieces beyond the necessary runs: strength yoga, mobility, core, stairs.

Each workout seemed so overwhelming, time- and energywise, when I looked at my fridge.

I'm not denying the value of strength training, but realistically, some of these were just too complicated for me to follow through consistently.

So for the rest of the month, I'm settling for consistent stretching and foam rolling, with a few planks tossed in there. It's taper time anyway; hopefully I remember to keep it simple in a few months when I next work on a training plan.

As for next month ... I might not run at all.

That sounds extreme, I know. I could also quite easily do it: The temperature and humidity are both rising, and RAGBRAI is approaching far faster than I've gotten bike miles in.

Plus, if this month is any indication, trying to run and bike will just end up with my being frustrated that both are difficult.

I may amend it to allow for short, social runs, but at the same time, my friends who run are also doing RAGBRAI. There won't be much peer pressure, if at all.

And finally, I think I've finally committed to giving up on the spring half marathon for good.

Assuming no injuries between now and Saturday, this will be the third consecutive year I've done a spring half, and each time, the weather has dealt a different sort of wild card.

The unpredictability of Midwest spring might not bother me as much if I had less riding on its whims, like training for a 10K instead of a half marathon.

Votes for and against tapering

Partly by accident and partly by design, taper time has come in my Dam to Dam training.

And I think the only living creature around here who is sad about it is the local FedEx guy.

My cats aren't fans of anything that keeps me out of the apartment (except maybe my job, because they're fed when I leave for it, when I return from it, and by virtue of that job). Lighter running schedule = more time with them.

Lately, I find myself agreeing with the cats' stance: Apartment time, or commuting by bike, just sounds better than running.

It's not like past half-marathon-training burnouts, where the misery of each run made me want to give up the hobby entirely — most of my efforts have been OK; the anticipation of a long and/or challenging run, however, is consistently terrifying.

My Italian adventure provided a good break from running, and at first I was glad to dive back in, but I think it was only a temporary reprieve.

I'm not sure whether to blame the lack of extended time off (two weeks at a time isn't all that long), the mental fatigue from pushing through the polar vortex that just wouldn't leave, or the timing of Dam to Dam.

As for the local FedEx guy? It seems that my midweek runs have lined up with his midweek deliveries to my apartment building, which has an open-to-the-public lobby but a locked door that leads to actual apartments.

I've returned, sweaty and out of breath, from runs a few times recently just as he's shown up to make deliveries.

I don't know what he does with the packages when I'm not there to let him in, but each time he's thanked me profusely ... and sworn that he's not deliberately showing up on days that I run.

That's good, Mr. FedEx, because soon enough, I'll be doing a LOT less of that.

I race tonight; here are my goals

One week ago today, I returned to Des Moines from my overseas adventure and realized that, oh crap, I was running a mile race in seven days and a half marathon in seven weeks.

And it was with some trepidation that I set out on my first run since the March 30 5K last Wednesday — how much fitness had I lost, and how much of a waste of registration would today's Grand Blue Mile be?

We can look at the result of that run and the subsequent mile test (7:41) in two ways: Either I didn't lose as much fitness as I thought, hooray!; or I didn't have any real fitness to lose, boo.

I've clocked that pace during successful 5Ks, and I finished a test mile in 7:33 before rolling out to Italy, though, so I think it's fair and accurate to interpret 7:41 as not having lost much fitness.

So tonight, I know I can go sub-8:00; I expect to do around 7:45, give or take a few seconds; and I hope I can do around 7:30.

If I break 7:30 this year without training specifically at all, well, first round of beer at the post-race gathering is on me.

And maybe then this fall at the Brew Mile or next spring at the Grand Blue Mile, after making time for race-specific training, I can shatter the automatic personal record I set tonight.

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:

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.

Conflicting emotions about tapering

It's taper week, and I can't make up my mind how I feel about it.

On one hand, running has been a mental and physical struggle these past three months.

So I don't mind not planning my day, often around the "best" window of weather, and talking myself out the door, sometimes coming back frustrated or disappointed (or just plain uncomfortable!).

My tempering of 5K hopes probably hasn't helped, either. I suspect I'm already looking past this race to ones where I have no expectations or where I have higher hopes for better training conditions.

On the other hand, once I'm done running, I feel better mentally and physically.

There's a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, no matter how poorly I performed, and everything that follows the run is that much more pleasurable: stretching, sitting, showering, sleeping and eating. Emphasis on eating.

One thing's for sure, though. This is the least-fatigued I've ever been going into taper week, which is probably why I'm confused — all of my other tapers have come during half-marathon plans, not 5K ones.

We'll see what all this means for race day.

Internet bloggers: They're just like us!

I didn't write the post at Competitor.com titled Here's My Excuse — What's Yours?, but I could have.

Everything Jason Devaney wrote was something I've done in the past few months (well, minus the part about covering the Olympics for NBC): aggressive pledges on which one falls short; complaints about the difficulties of training outdoors this winter; realizations that lowering a PR likely won't happen.

I don't follow any running bloggers I dislike — sounds obvious but there was one, a few years back, that I hate-read for a while — so when people like Jason write about how they've fallen short, I do feel bad.

And yet I also feel better about myself. Not in a smug misery-loves-company way, but in a OK-it-happens-to-the-best-of-us way. My realization that a PR might not happen wasn't throwing in the towel, but more like Karla Bruning's realistic assessment of her half marathon training situation.

These more experienced, accomplished runners take a much-less critical view of the situation. Jason plans to use his upcoming race as a baseline for the rest of the season; Karla will use hers as a training run for possible PR attempts in April and May.

So it's OK, not defeatist, that I'm opening my mind to another spring 5K, or that I'm accepting that I might have to wait until fall to go sub-24:00.

It's also the equivalent of the tabloids' "stars — they're just like us!" photo features: Oh look, it's not just recreational runners like me who make their big goals public, come up short and have only themselves to blame. Triathletes with Internet recognition do it too!

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.

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.

My first impressions of the stair workout

On Friday, I capped a three-mile run with 10 minutes of running up and down stairs.

While Runner's World advised doing it after a long run, to boost your ability to push through fatigue, I decided that near-zero temperatures and a beastly hill near the end were tiring enough.

Was I right? Sort of. I mean, it was definitely a workout and not a cakewalk.

Within just a few minutes, I had my worst case of cotton mouth in recent memory, and I kept checking the timer on my cellphone, thinking that surely more time had passed than it really had.

But you know what also didn't help was having wet shoes from running outside on a set of stairs that only had rubber grips on one of three flights. Or choosing stairs that had very frequent turns.

Or doing the workout while maintenance was vacuuming, and nearly getting your foot caught in the vacuum cleaner cord as you tried to sneak past the maintenance man.

Next time, I'll consider using the stairs in the garage, because while there's only one flight there compared with three, I'll probably interfere with people less, I'll have less rest in between climbs and I'll have better traction.

And fortunately — or unfortunately — I was able to do 10 minutes on my first try, so that means I have no excuses for doing less than 10 next time.

Seriously, I thought I would hit a dangerous level of exhaustion on the first try. After all, climbing three flights of stairs to work every day leaves me breathless at the top.

Yet there I was at the end of 10 minutes, slightly proud that I'd exceeded my own predictions, and yet slightly annoyed that this sets the bar higher for next time.

5K training starts this week!

My 5K training plan starts this week, and I'm pretty excited about it because:

1. I love the discipline of a training schedule that has an external culmination (the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K). I *could* train and not race, but then I'm less likely to stick to the training schedule.

2. The temperatures this week look chilly. Not dangerously cold, but lazy cold — as in, someone without a gym membership or a treadmill would be inclined to do something else.

3. This weekend, I went to Bacon Fest, then a Super Bowl party that featured an entire dessert table and a nacho bar. (I do have to say: Bacon Fest's lingering guilt and grease overdose held me back a bit at the Super Bowl buffet.)

4. Sadly, last year's Friendly Sons partner Regina will not be able to join me, but Cory and I will be having a 5K rematch. Even if I lose, I could still claim a small personal victory if I go sub-24:00, or even sub-24:09, because there are plenty of 5Ks in the fall.

5. Another friend, Annah, has expressed interest in doing a St. Patrick's 5K, and while of course bar options abound — and she should do them, if she is so inclined! — she's been building up her endurance from ground zero, so I have high hopes that I will have positively peer-pressured another person.

Truth be told, I'm also a little ambivalent about training season's start because:

1. I haven't been pushing myself, except to not walk all of every hill. That extends to my lack of strength training since fall (seriously). I've been counting a foam-rolling session as a big victory.

2. The temperatures this week look chilly. Making crafts out of race souvenirs, reading running blogs and writing my own running blog sound more appealing.

But don't worry, this isn't going to become a whiny post. I know that once I get into the swing of training, I'll get used to all the drawbacks, and that taking the first step is the toughest.

This is how I know race day is coming

The first sign that race day is nearing is, of course, seeing it pop up in your weather forecast.

It's still in the 10-day look, which I only put stock in if the predictions are favorable, but I'm glad that being neurotic has some sort of payoff.

The second sign is the stress dream. That came last Friday night.

In the dream — yep, I'm gonna be that person that yammers on about dreams — I was waiting for the half marathon to start with my friend Ashlee, who in the real world loves biking but dislikes running.

We had to wait, because the race course was actually just laps, and the marathoners got to go first. (In fact, did I start too early with them, and have to head back?)

But bad weather struck, and the start was delayed. Just an hour. Didn't seem bad. We went our separate ways, for some reason, and kept calling a hotline to see what was up.

I decided to pass my time at a bar/restaurant while grabbing something to eat — a hamburger or something, because it was around dinner time — and watched the radar.

Everyone agreed it looked promising. The skies were clearing. It was a false positive, though; next thing I knew, a serious storm was slamming the area, and the race director was postponing the race indefinitely.

So naturally I went to work from there. The dream co-workers greeted me with a request that I work some overtime shifts (reflection of real-life work busyness), and I responded ... by slamming a fist on the desk and yelling about how I didn't even know when the rescheduled race would be, and I'd been training for two months for this, and I'd spent X dollars on it, and I JUST WAS NOT GOING TO WORK, OK?

(This is not how I behave at work in real life. I promise.)

As far as stress dreams go, it's not a bad one. No forgetting things, no showing up naked, no oversleeping. I'm sure the latter will terrorize me on the night before, keeping me tossing and turning.

It just exaggerates the very mild, very normal race-week nerves I'm developing: Oh crap, I paid to run 13.1 miles soon.

Ugh.