First order of business: Happy 26th birthday to me!
If you'd asked me four or more years ago what I'd be doing on my 26th birthday, I never would've said: "Sitting in Des Moines, Iowa, and adding up how many miles I've run and walked — but mostly run — this year while my bike grew dusty and cobwebby."
Second order of business: That total is 612 through yesterday. Over Labor Day weekend, I might add some walking miles, but I'd rather post now and overdeliver instead of post later and underdeliver.
Apparently I've been averaging about 17 miles per week, which is below the 19ish that would've put me on pace for 1,000.
Though at 35 weeks into the year, falling two short a week puts me well off course, I'm pleasantly surprised at my weekly average — at this rate, I'll still break 900 miles for 2012.
It's a good thing I didn't give in to the moderate pessimism I felt the other day, after not running and checking Thursday's forecast (why so hot again?), and then assuming I was so far off course that it no longer mattered.
Checking my stats after putting in 6.2 miles was a much better call, creaky neck and tight hamstrings and sluggish muscles aside.
And no doubt the runner's high — I love that it still hits you, even during a crappy run and even only with tenths of a mile to go — was speaking ... but it did occur to me that fall and early winter will bring me my preferred running conditions.
Who knows what'll happen then. Yeah, there are out-of-town trips and holidays galore, but maybe I'll have more giddyup then. Or maybe I'll persuade myself to run the Des Moines Half, which doesn't much appeal to me now during the sluggish days of summer but might seem more doable when it's cooler.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Confession: I break rec path traffic rules
During a generally unremarkable six-miler along the Clive Greenbelt Trail, I heard the following warning from a rider: "On your right."
Nope, this biker wasn't offroading, or perfecting her precision by sharing a lane with me. I had once again broken a cardinal rule of rec path use and failed to stay in the right lane.
I'm a drifter. I can't help it.
Often, I can correct myself, if it's oncoming traffic, and swerve out of the left lane. But when the passer is behind me, I'm figuratively caught with my pants down.
(Figuratively is a key word here, because outdoor runners sometimes must do things that require their pants to be literally down.)
During one of my first Des Moines runs, I had a rather breathless conversation with a friendly older gentleman about this issue. Congenital foot problems, and why I still run despite those problems, aren't something one can generally explain in passing with an elevated heart rate, but I tried.
First of all, my bevy of foot problems are for once not to blame. In this case, my podiatrist in Rockford told me, it's that one of my legs is shorter than the other.
Not at a level where it's visible to laypeople or where it needs surgical/orthotic correction. Just enough to create the wobbly stool effect — which would mean my left leg is the extra-short one, if that's how I'm leaning.
Soon after my latest noob-in-appearance-but-not-mind moment, Mark Remy posted his ticket for running violations. I clicked on the link with much joy, because I love Mark Remy, but with much trepidation, because part of me didn't want to find out what else the veteran runners were hating me for doing.
Good news: Lane violations didn't appear in Remy's post or the comments section. The folks passing me on the right don't seem nearly as irate as drivers who have to pass on the right on the highway (not, um, that I would have ever caused that to happen).
Maybe this infraction isn't as severe as I thought. Or maybe everything else about me just screams rookie and my comrades feel sorry for me.
Regardless, if you're ever the passer in this situation, spare a little sympathy for that person who might be an experienced, but slightly physically deformed, runner.
Nope, this biker wasn't offroading, or perfecting her precision by sharing a lane with me. I had once again broken a cardinal rule of rec path use and failed to stay in the right lane.
I'm a drifter. I can't help it.
Often, I can correct myself, if it's oncoming traffic, and swerve out of the left lane. But when the passer is behind me, I'm figuratively caught with my pants down.
(Figuratively is a key word here, because outdoor runners sometimes must do things that require their pants to be literally down.)
During one of my first Des Moines runs, I had a rather breathless conversation with a friendly older gentleman about this issue. Congenital foot problems, and why I still run despite those problems, aren't something one can generally explain in passing with an elevated heart rate, but I tried.
First of all, my bevy of foot problems are for once not to blame. In this case, my podiatrist in Rockford told me, it's that one of my legs is shorter than the other.
Not at a level where it's visible to laypeople or where it needs surgical/orthotic correction. Just enough to create the wobbly stool effect — which would mean my left leg is the extra-short one, if that's how I'm leaning.
Soon after my latest noob-in-appearance-but-not-mind moment, Mark Remy posted his ticket for running violations. I clicked on the link with much joy, because I love Mark Remy, but with much trepidation, because part of me didn't want to find out what else the veteran runners were hating me for doing.
Good news: Lane violations didn't appear in Remy's post or the comments section. The folks passing me on the right don't seem nearly as irate as drivers who have to pass on the right on the highway (not, um, that I would have ever caused that to happen).
Maybe this infraction isn't as severe as I thought. Or maybe everything else about me just screams rookie and my comrades feel sorry for me.
Regardless, if you're ever the passer in this situation, spare a little sympathy for that person who might be an experienced, but slightly physically deformed, runner.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Triathlon before age 30? Technically and maybe ...
I don't remember exactly when or why the idea "do a triathlon before you're 30!" popped into my head. (I'm sure Runner's World deserves some of the credit/blame.)
It's been at least a year, though, since it crossed my mind, and even with ample warning, I still didn't manage to do my hometown's annual duathlon in the spring. Weird work schedule blah blah blah, I told those who called me out on it.
The true barriers to achieving this goal, though, are my poor swimming skills and refusal to pay for access to a pool.
Enter some college besties with a brilliant solution: "Let's do the Hy-Vee Triathlon next year as a relay team," they said as they showered me and my cat with housewarming gifts.
A shortcut to a bucket list item? Even better than catnip/shiny items/fleece blankies/fluffy new towels!
Chelsea can swim the 1.5K, because Zach sinks like a stone and I dislike getting my face wet and struggling to breathe (completely different from having my face merely damp from sweat and struggling to breathe).
I can run the 10K, because Chelsea and Zach, despite having completed the Warrior Dash with me in 2011 and pounding the pavement like champs during heat waves, hate running.
Zach can bike the 25K, by process of elimination.
And I can ironically call myself a triathlete before age 30 — with three years to spare, even.
It's been at least a year, though, since it crossed my mind, and even with ample warning, I still didn't manage to do my hometown's annual duathlon in the spring. Weird work schedule blah blah blah, I told those who called me out on it.
The true barriers to achieving this goal, though, are my poor swimming skills and refusal to pay for access to a pool.
Enter some college besties with a brilliant solution: "Let's do the Hy-Vee Triathlon next year as a relay team," they said as they showered me and my cat with housewarming gifts.
A shortcut to a bucket list item? Even better than catnip/shiny items/fleece blankies/fluffy new towels!
Chelsea can swim the 1.5K, because Zach sinks like a stone and I dislike getting my face wet and struggling to breathe (completely different from having my face merely damp from sweat and struggling to breathe).
I can run the 10K, because Chelsea and Zach, despite having completed the Warrior Dash with me in 2011 and pounding the pavement like champs during heat waves, hate running.
Zach can bike the 25K, by process of elimination.
And I can ironically call myself a triathlete before age 30 — with three years to spare, even.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Fan mail call
By the time I left my old job — and old blog — I had established a fan base that wasn't entirely made of relatives or family friends (though there were plenty of those, and I'm still glad they read my posts!).
Many of those nonrelative readers were active with the Rockford Road Runners, whose ranks I joined in 2011 but left the following year, knowing a move was on the horizon. Once a Road Runner, always a Road Runner: I received an email from a member named Ed recently, saying our mutual friend Coach Mike had suggested that he invite me to join a Road Runner committee.
After I emailed Ed back saying thanks for the thought, but I'm 300 miles away in Iowa now, he surprised me with his response:
My then-co-worker Mike DeDoncker, knowing I was training for a half marathon, recommended doing a local race to get all the newbie jitters/mishaps out of the way before the real deal.
So we signed up for the Labor Day weekend 5K, and as DeDoncker also had suggested, I ran with him until I grew tired of his pace and stepped it up. (I'm not being mean. He had told me that he was easing back into running after a hiatus and would be going slower than me, so I should pass him whenever I wanted.)
I was actually picking off runners during the final stretch — and that's when Ed blew through. To be honest, I believe my first thought was "are you freakin' kidding me, dude?" but my second thought was "props to you, sir; you're older than my parents and you left this spring chicken in the dust."
Nothing like having your pompous balloon burst. It was funny (and self-deprecating) enough to me to include it in my race report, which later ran in the health section. Ed recognized it, probably patted himself on the back, and told DeDoncker about it — earning himself another mention in the Rockford media folk blogosphere.
Ed, you've earned your claim to Rockford health blogger fame, and I'm assuming that you remember your time in the spotlight fondly. Thanks for finding such amusement in it!
Many of those nonrelative readers were active with the Rockford Road Runners, whose ranks I joined in 2011 but left the following year, knowing a move was on the horizon. Once a Road Runner, always a Road Runner: I received an email from a member named Ed recently, saying our mutual friend Coach Mike had suggested that he invite me to join a Road Runner committee.
After I emailed Ed back saying thanks for the thought, but I'm 300 miles away in Iowa now, he surprised me with his response:
"Good luck in your new endeavor. I am the old guy that passed you in one of the races you wrote about. Guess I can relax in my future races now and not need to push myself to beat the young girls."The race to which he's referring? My very first one, in September 2009: the On the Waterfront 5K.
My then-co-worker Mike DeDoncker, knowing I was training for a half marathon, recommended doing a local race to get all the newbie jitters/mishaps out of the way before the real deal.
So we signed up for the Labor Day weekend 5K, and as DeDoncker also had suggested, I ran with him until I grew tired of his pace and stepped it up. (I'm not being mean. He had told me that he was easing back into running after a hiatus and would be going slower than me, so I should pass him whenever I wanted.)
I was actually picking off runners during the final stretch — and that's when Ed blew through. To be honest, I believe my first thought was "are you freakin' kidding me, dude?" but my second thought was "props to you, sir; you're older than my parents and you left this spring chicken in the dust."
Nothing like having your pompous balloon burst. It was funny (and self-deprecating) enough to me to include it in my race report, which later ran in the health section. Ed recognized it, probably patted himself on the back, and told DeDoncker about it — earning himself another mention in the Rockford media folk blogosphere.
Ed, you've earned your claim to Rockford health blogger fame, and I'm assuming that you remember your time in the spotlight fondly. Thanks for finding such amusement in it!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Seen while running: Week of Aug. 19
First, a glimpse of home, and by home I mean the two houses out in the country that I've lived in.
Seeing deer was nothing out of the ordinary at both places, so my sister and I each had some serious eye-rolling when city folks would squeal at a deer sighting — it takes a bold deer who'll let me get within iPhone camera range to impress me.
From the route I inaugurated last Monday. Water, whether a natural body, a fountain or a chlorinated manmade structure, draws quite the longing glances from this always-too-warm runner.
Just off 60th Street west of my complex is this house I pass on probably a third of my runs. The first time I went this way and spotted an ambulance in a driveway, I thought there was a medical emergency at the home.
I kept seeing the ambulance in the same driveway, and the theory that an EMT parks his/her work vehicle at home seems only slightly less ludicrous than the same person having medical issues every single time I run — particularly when that person isn't me.
Seeing deer was nothing out of the ordinary at both places, so my sister and I each had some serious eye-rolling when city folks would squeal at a deer sighting — it takes a bold deer who'll let me get within iPhone camera range to impress me.
 |
| The brown blob in the middle of the photo is the second of two deer that scooted across the Clive Greenbelt Trail in front of me. |
 |
| What my friends Ken and Annah would call a "shee-shee neighborhood." I don't know how to spell "shee-shee," so please correct me if you do. |
I kept seeing the ambulance in the same driveway, and the theory that an EMT parks his/her work vehicle at home seems only slightly less ludicrous than the same person having medical issues every single time I run — particularly when that person isn't me.
 |
| This probably kept any nosy neighbors busy speculating for a few days in a row, the first time the ambulance came home ... |
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Web wrap-up: Aug. 13 to 26
I slacked last week (and am a little ahead of myself for this week), but don't worry, this post won't become bloated as a result.
Running Is Funny: The Ultimate Marathon ... Literally. The Pisa Marathon takes place Dec. 16, a few days before the most recent end-of-the-world prediction. Organizers decided to incorporate this into their marketing strategy, making a creepy video urging you to pay to run 26.2 miles during what could be the final week of all of our lives. Watch it, but not too close to bedtime.
CBS: Dog treadmill sales brisk as pets shape up. OK, before anyone gets on a high horse about pampered pets, the article points out that animal shelters can make great use out of these, instead of forcing the poor doggies to go stir-crazy. Also, dogs (and cats) are cute. The end.
Well: How to Make the Dog Days Your Training Partner. Scientists have decided there is indeed some benefit to gritting your teeth and exercising in hot weather: When fall comes around, you'll be mentally tougher for having done so. Physically tougher? Well, at least you'll get used to the heat while you're in it ...
Remy's World: Why Are Runners So ... Inspired by the blogger who checked to see how each state was viewed, Mark Remy used the Google autocomplete search function to see what the Internet thought of runners/joggers/running/jogging.
The results, surprisingly, include many positive questions ("why are runners so ripped?") and, not surprisingly at all, refer to bodily functions that are generally not considered polite. Read and laugh.
Another Mother Runner: Winner of There She Goes Charm Necklace. Bloggers Dimity and SBS asked for what their readers would put on the front of a running pendant, and the winner's idea resonated with me:
Running Is Funny: The Ultimate Marathon ... Literally. The Pisa Marathon takes place Dec. 16, a few days before the most recent end-of-the-world prediction. Organizers decided to incorporate this into their marketing strategy, making a creepy video urging you to pay to run 26.2 miles during what could be the final week of all of our lives. Watch it, but not too close to bedtime.
CBS: Dog treadmill sales brisk as pets shape up. OK, before anyone gets on a high horse about pampered pets, the article points out that animal shelters can make great use out of these, instead of forcing the poor doggies to go stir-crazy. Also, dogs (and cats) are cute. The end.
Well: How to Make the Dog Days Your Training Partner. Scientists have decided there is indeed some benefit to gritting your teeth and exercising in hot weather: When fall comes around, you'll be mentally tougher for having done so. Physically tougher? Well, at least you'll get used to the heat while you're in it ...
Remy's World: Why Are Runners So ... Inspired by the blogger who checked to see how each state was viewed, Mark Remy used the Google autocomplete search function to see what the Internet thought of runners/joggers/running/jogging.
The results, surprisingly, include many positive questions ("why are runners so ripped?") and, not surprisingly at all, refer to bodily functions that are generally not considered polite. Read and laugh.
Another Mother Runner: Winner of There She Goes Charm Necklace. Bloggers Dimity and SBS asked for what their readers would put on the front of a running pendant, and the winner's idea resonated with me:
"An exclamation point. I did not grow up athletic. I am still amazed and surprised at my ability to run long distances."Yep, me too. I'd wear it with pride!
Friday, August 24, 2012
The aroma of an athlete
You know sometimes iPods/iTunes' shuffle setting/radios (for those of us who still use them, i.e., not the Class of 2016) can sense your mood and play the right song for you?
A few days ago, I discovered that my Google Reader, or the bloggers who populate it, is the same way.
During my return run in Des Moines, I was looking forward not just to running in my new home, but also to wearing clean workout gear while doing so — I'd washed up two full sets of gears during my "vacation" in my hometown.
TANGENT ALERT: I'm not sure whether this is a personal quirk or a commonality to athletes, but washing workout clothes makes me so conflicted.
Mine definitely demand to be washed, don't get me wrong. During this summer especially. I've noticed the scent (to be delicate) of prior workouts when I pull my shirts on, and, frighteningly, I've also smelled the current workout as I'm standing still, such as at a stoplight.
I don't take any weird pleasure in noticing how stinky my running clothes are, so I wash them, but always with the gloomy, Eeyore-like thought that soon enough, they'll be nasty again. Or, that I might grow irrationally protective of their cleanliness and not work out in them, because they're clean.
In conclusion, I overanalyze laundry.
END TANGENT, RETURN TO POINT: On Monday, I pulled on one of those fresh-and-clean T-shirts ... and my smile faded to a grimace. I could still smell sweat on the shirt!
My devoted runner friend Shayne had mentioned this happening. And apparently, so had the women at Another Mother Runner. Their Tell Me Tuesday question from last week had been about how to get the stink out of running clothes, and the responses were posted the same day I noticed my clothing issue.
I may try the soaking recommendation. I also might try the line-dry-outdoors one. But I know I'll try the quit-caring-about-it suggestion. Hey, if other runners are proudly sporting the evidence of their effort, why should I worry? It's a workout, not a beauty pageant.
A few days ago, I discovered that my Google Reader, or the bloggers who populate it, is the same way.
During my return run in Des Moines, I was looking forward not just to running in my new home, but also to wearing clean workout gear while doing so — I'd washed up two full sets of gears during my "vacation" in my hometown.
TANGENT ALERT: I'm not sure whether this is a personal quirk or a commonality to athletes, but washing workout clothes makes me so conflicted.
Mine definitely demand to be washed, don't get me wrong. During this summer especially. I've noticed the scent (to be delicate) of prior workouts when I pull my shirts on, and, frighteningly, I've also smelled the current workout as I'm standing still, such as at a stoplight.
I don't take any weird pleasure in noticing how stinky my running clothes are, so I wash them, but always with the gloomy, Eeyore-like thought that soon enough, they'll be nasty again. Or, that I might grow irrationally protective of their cleanliness and not work out in them, because they're clean.
In conclusion, I overanalyze laundry.
END TANGENT, RETURN TO POINT: On Monday, I pulled on one of those fresh-and-clean T-shirts ... and my smile faded to a grimace. I could still smell sweat on the shirt!
My devoted runner friend Shayne had mentioned this happening. And apparently, so had the women at Another Mother Runner. Their Tell Me Tuesday question from last week had been about how to get the stink out of running clothes, and the responses were posted the same day I noticed my clothing issue.
I may try the soaking recommendation. I also might try the line-dry-outdoors one. But I know I'll try the quit-caring-about-it suggestion. Hey, if other runners are proudly sporting the evidence of their effort, why should I worry? It's a workout, not a beauty pageant.
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