It's Dam to Dam Eve! I've planned my meals, checked the weather, washed all my running gear so I can pick the "luckiest" items, not the cleanest, and drafted a set of goals.
Picture this list as an inverted old-fashioned food pyramid, with the first items being the base (things I can and must do) and the final ones being the top (not critical for survival).
1. Be happy for other runners.
Cory is running with me, of course, and will likely beat me despite training less; our friend Chris, a natural athlete and known speed demon, will be there, too; and another friend, Anne — a wife, mother and full-time employee — is doing her first half marathon ever.
No matter my race outcome, these folks deserve wholehearted congrats when I see them afterwards.
2. Don't melt down, physically and mentally.
The weather doesn't look fantastic, but it doesn't look terrible, and the route is supposed to be fairly forgiving.
Even if it's not my day, I should be able to keep plodding away — and I'm going to have to, because 13.1 miles is too long to do the start-swear-stop routine when I have other places to be later in the day.
Plus, it's my last run for a month. If that doesn't get me to the end faster, I'm not sure what else will.
3. Record my second-best half marathon time.
There's a HUGE gap between my current and past PRs — almost eight minutes, in fact. Though I may not feel like I'm at the top of my running game right now, I'm certainly in shape enough to beat 2:08:32, set on a hillier course in D.C.-area humidity.
4. Finish in 2:05:00.
That's a 9:32 pace. Seems reasonable in this situation, given that I did train. I'm running by feel, so whether I achieve this might depend on what kind of pace groups are nearby.
5. Finish in 1:59:59 or less.
Can I keep a 9:09 average? We'll find out Saturday.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Exiling "should" from my running vocabulary
Before my recent face-to-face sympathy session with the repair guy, I had another virtual sympathy session, this time with a post from Susan Lacke.
In "There Is No 'Should' In Running," Susan recounts a conversation she had with a friend who'd just completed a half marathon.
This friend, like other runners Susan's talked to, said with some resignation that she guessed she'd have to do a marathon next. To this view, Susan responds: "You don’t have to do anything. Do you want to run a marathon?"
The post goes on to defend all distances as being perfectly acceptable to qualify you as a "real runner." But that part wasn't what spoke to me — it was the line excerpted above.
As you may or may not remember, I decided that this year's goal would be to at least consider running a marathon, and I've explained it as "if I'm going to do it, I should think about doing it now, with a child-free life and a 40-hour workweek."
But while struggling mostly mentally, sometimes physically, this spring, I've thought about how the hurdles are twice as large from a half marathon to a full ... and it's made me 99.5 percent sure I won't be trying a marathon this year, or, honestly, any year.
After reading Susan's column, though, that conclusion seemed less gloomy. The answer to "do you want to run a marathon?" is no.
And man, there is a huge difference between, say, going to a movie you don't actually want to see all that badly, and running a distance twice what you've ever done when you don't want to.
I didn't even fall short on my goal of "think about doing a marathon," because I did think about it. Having the most time and fitness that I'm likely to have just doesn't translate to having the desire.
In "There Is No 'Should' In Running," Susan recounts a conversation she had with a friend who'd just completed a half marathon.
This friend, like other runners Susan's talked to, said with some resignation that she guessed she'd have to do a marathon next. To this view, Susan responds: "You don’t have to do anything. Do you want to run a marathon?"
The post goes on to defend all distances as being perfectly acceptable to qualify you as a "real runner." But that part wasn't what spoke to me — it was the line excerpted above.
As you may or may not remember, I decided that this year's goal would be to at least consider running a marathon, and I've explained it as "if I'm going to do it, I should think about doing it now, with a child-free life and a 40-hour workweek."
But while struggling mostly mentally, sometimes physically, this spring, I've thought about how the hurdles are twice as large from a half marathon to a full ... and it's made me 99.5 percent sure I won't be trying a marathon this year, or, honestly, any year.
After reading Susan's column, though, that conclusion seemed less gloomy. The answer to "do you want to run a marathon?" is no.
And man, there is a huge difference between, say, going to a movie you don't actually want to see all that badly, and running a distance twice what you've ever done when you don't want to.
I didn't even fall short on my goal of "think about doing a marathon," because I did think about it. Having the most time and fitness that I'm likely to have just doesn't translate to having the desire.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, May 23, 2014
How runners do Iowa Nice
Yesterday I rode my bike to fetch my car from the mechanic's. It was a minor victory that turned into a major victory.
There were actually two minor — and I mean minor — wins:
1.) I decided to leave in the morning, when there were scattered light showers, instead of waiting for 1:15 p.m., when Weather.com told me the showers would end. It turns out that I am still not made of sugar, because I did not melt.
2.) Rather than tack on extra miles to avoid a hill, I took the more direct route and made it all the way to the top without stopping. Not without swearing, but without stopping.
Because my ride was cool and slightly rainy, I was rocking my fluorescent Des Moines Half Marathon zip-up jacket that morning.
When I returned home and parked, my neon top caught the eye of a repair guy who'd parked near me: "Hey, I have that same shirt! Did you run it, too?" he called to me.
And so, in what seems to be very typical Iowa fashion, we embarked on a five-minute conversation about local half marathons and our successes/failures in training for them.
I told him I'd run it last year but was on the fence about doing it this fall; that depended somewhat on how Dam to Dam went.
"Oh, I'm doing Dam to Dam too! The funny thing is, me and my wife, we're really just not looking forward to it. Not sure why. Maybe that horrible winter just got us down."
There's something so magical about when an outsider expresses the exact negative, possibly unpopular view you've been nursing for a few weeks.
I told him I could empathize, 100 percent, with him. He was relieved to hear he wasn't just being a big baby — another emotion I shared.
It was one of the most cheerful whine-fests I've had in a long time, and certainly a rare occasion on which I appreciated a strange man commenting on my clothes.
I may hate how the past few springs here have turned out, but I sure do love Iowa and Iowa Nice.
There were actually two minor — and I mean minor — wins:
1.) I decided to leave in the morning, when there were scattered light showers, instead of waiting for 1:15 p.m., when Weather.com told me the showers would end. It turns out that I am still not made of sugar, because I did not melt.
2.) Rather than tack on extra miles to avoid a hill, I took the more direct route and made it all the way to the top without stopping. Not without swearing, but without stopping.
Because my ride was cool and slightly rainy, I was rocking my fluorescent Des Moines Half Marathon zip-up jacket that morning.
When I returned home and parked, my neon top caught the eye of a repair guy who'd parked near me: "Hey, I have that same shirt! Did you run it, too?" he called to me.
And so, in what seems to be very typical Iowa fashion, we embarked on a five-minute conversation about local half marathons and our successes/failures in training for them.
I told him I'd run it last year but was on the fence about doing it this fall; that depended somewhat on how Dam to Dam went.
"Oh, I'm doing Dam to Dam too! The funny thing is, me and my wife, we're really just not looking forward to it. Not sure why. Maybe that horrible winter just got us down."
There's something so magical about when an outsider expresses the exact negative, possibly unpopular view you've been nursing for a few weeks.
I told him I could empathize, 100 percent, with him. He was relieved to hear he wasn't just being a big baby — another emotion I shared.
It was one of the most cheerful whine-fests I've had in a long time, and certainly a rare occasion on which I appreciated a strange man commenting on my clothes.
I may hate how the past few springs here have turned out, but I sure do love Iowa and Iowa Nice.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Race report: Woofin' It 5K 2014
"Are you up for a challenge?"
That was how Furry Friends' director greeted me at Saturday's Woofin' It 5K.
Last year's "borrowed" dog, Sam, had been bursting with energy, but Cory and I had survived. (Taking turns holding the leash helped.) So I laughed and said sure, bring it on.
Enter Rowan, a 6-year-old American Staffordshire terrier mix. As I took the leash of this ball of muscles, the shelter folks warned: "Just so you know, he's a bit of a puller ... "
And we were off! By the time we met up with Cory, who was pinning his bib on and stashing his belongings in the car, I'd already broken a sweat. This didn't bode well for my "costume."
Because we showed up a bit late, we hadn't quite made it to the start line when the race began, but with Rowan towing me, we caught up, no problem.
After we crested the first hill, my legs already complaining about the previous day's 21 bike miles/3.1 run-walk miles, I happened to glance down at my shoe. The keyholder was gone.
CRAP. I handed Rowan off to Cory and fled down that hill, sweat pouring from every pore (oh hi humidity!), to find it at the very start of the race.
How many college grads does it take to secure car keys on a pair of shoes while a feisty dog itches to race? More than two, evidently.
The good news for me, I guess, was that doubling back helped tire Rowan out a bit. Don't get me wrong, that dog was ready to run, but after the first mile or so, I was able to maintain some semblance of form and not spend every other breath shouting fruitlessly "heel! heel!"
Still, Rowan was determined to save face in front of other dogs. He might slow to a trot when it was just Cory and I, but let another human-dog duo pass us, and he'd leap to action.
Or when he needed a break, 8 times out of 10, he would act like he was marking yet another plant. (Though I didn't look closely, I had a hunch that nothing was coming out from under that raised leg.)
On the other hand, he seemed determined to make Cory and I look like bad pet parents. The other race participants chuckled indulgently at our swerving, abrupt stopping/starting, and bathroom breaks; the couple sitting on their porch seemed less amused by Rowan's liquid present on their lawn.
All three of us were glad to see the finish line, I think, but it was a happy tired.
There sure wasn't a dull moment with Rowan at the helm ... though if Furry Friends has an even more energetic dog waiting for me next year, I might ask about hooking him/her up to my bike instead!
For the record: Even with our doubling back, I finished this 5K faster (42:11) than the Girls on the Run one the night before (somewhere around 46 minutes).
That was how Furry Friends' director greeted me at Saturday's Woofin' It 5K.
Last year's "borrowed" dog, Sam, had been bursting with energy, but Cory and I had survived. (Taking turns holding the leash helped.) So I laughed and said sure, bring it on.
Enter Rowan, a 6-year-old American Staffordshire terrier mix. As I took the leash of this ball of muscles, the shelter folks warned: "Just so you know, he's a bit of a puller ... "
And we were off! By the time we met up with Cory, who was pinning his bib on and stashing his belongings in the car, I'd already broken a sweat. This didn't bode well for my "costume."
 |
| It turns out that cheap eyeliner is NOT waterproof. Should've taken a picture before the race, I guess. Not pictured: Cory's awesome socks, with a cat saying "woof" and a dog saying "meow." |
After we crested the first hill, my legs already complaining about the previous day's 21 bike miles/3.1 run-walk miles, I happened to glance down at my shoe. The keyholder was gone.
CRAP. I handed Rowan off to Cory and fled down that hill, sweat pouring from every pore (oh hi humidity!), to find it at the very start of the race.
How many college grads does it take to secure car keys on a pair of shoes while a feisty dog itches to race? More than two, evidently.
The good news for me, I guess, was that doubling back helped tire Rowan out a bit. Don't get me wrong, that dog was ready to run, but after the first mile or so, I was able to maintain some semblance of form and not spend every other breath shouting fruitlessly "heel! heel!"
Still, Rowan was determined to save face in front of other dogs. He might slow to a trot when it was just Cory and I, but let another human-dog duo pass us, and he'd leap to action.
Or when he needed a break, 8 times out of 10, he would act like he was marking yet another plant. (Though I didn't look closely, I had a hunch that nothing was coming out from under that raised leg.)
On the other hand, he seemed determined to make Cory and I look like bad pet parents. The other race participants chuckled indulgently at our swerving, abrupt stopping/starting, and bathroom breaks; the couple sitting on their porch seemed less amused by Rowan's liquid present on their lawn.
All three of us were glad to see the finish line, I think, but it was a happy tired.
There sure wasn't a dull moment with Rowan at the helm ... though if Furry Friends has an even more energetic dog waiting for me next year, I might ask about hooking him/her up to my bike instead!
For the record: Even with our doubling back, I finished this 5K faster (42:11) than the Girls on the Run one the night before (somewhere around 46 minutes).
Monday, May 12, 2014
Race (?) report: Girls on the Run 5K
I experienced two personal firsts at the Girls on the Run 5K last Friday.
First, obviously, it was my inaugural time helping out with the program, and it is every bit as impressive —maybe even more impressive — than one might expect.
The party was in full swing when I arrived at Raccoon River Park: a DJ blasting tunes (appropriately, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"); face painting and glitter hairspray; and coordinated funky headbands and tall socks, at least in "my" school's case.
There were school and running chants, and the head coach of my friend's team ran a warmup drill of jumping jacks, tae bo moves, stars and clapping — and as silly as I'm sure I looked, I thought it was hilarious.
With all this and the lovely weather, it would've been hard not to catch the spirit of the event.
Enthusiasm during the actual run seemed fairly high, too. Of course there were a few strugglers, but their buddies and the spectators didn't let them sulk or fall behind too much.
It really was cool to see not just the girls' accomplishments, but also the amount of time and energy that the adults put into getting them there. Warm and fuzzy feelings all around!
Second, less obviously, it was my first brick. I toyed with the idea of driving to Raccoon River, either from work or from my apartment after I'd biked back from work, don't get me wrong.
The spirit of Bike Month ultimately won out — plus the realization that it really wouldn't take that much longer to bike versus drive, with the time spent getting to the garage and dealing with rush-hour traffic.
It wasn't really a brick, in the truest sense of the term, because at least a half-hour lapsed between my arrival and the start of the run. And the run was definitely an easy shuffle.
But hey, if the book club members were impressed that I rode eight miles to a 5K, then hopped back on to get to dinner, I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back. I did end up feeling it the next day, I think, so it counts as far as I'm concerned
First, obviously, it was my inaugural time helping out with the program, and it is every bit as impressive —maybe even more impressive — than one might expect.
The party was in full swing when I arrived at Raccoon River Park: a DJ blasting tunes (appropriately, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"); face painting and glitter hairspray; and coordinated funky headbands and tall socks, at least in "my" school's case.
There were school and running chants, and the head coach of my friend's team ran a warmup drill of jumping jacks, tae bo moves, stars and clapping — and as silly as I'm sure I looked, I thought it was hilarious.
With all this and the lovely weather, it would've been hard not to catch the spirit of the event.
Enthusiasm during the actual run seemed fairly high, too. Of course there were a few strugglers, but their buddies and the spectators didn't let them sulk or fall behind too much.
It really was cool to see not just the girls' accomplishments, but also the amount of time and energy that the adults put into getting them there. Warm and fuzzy feelings all around!
Second, less obviously, it was my first brick. I toyed with the idea of driving to Raccoon River, either from work or from my apartment after I'd biked back from work, don't get me wrong.
The spirit of Bike Month ultimately won out — plus the realization that it really wouldn't take that much longer to bike versus drive, with the time spent getting to the garage and dealing with rush-hour traffic.
It wasn't really a brick, in the truest sense of the term, because at least a half-hour lapsed between my arrival and the start of the run. And the run was definitely an easy shuffle.
But hey, if the book club members were impressed that I rode eight miles to a 5K, then hopped back on to get to dinner, I'll go ahead and pat myself on the back. I did end up feeling it the next day, I think, so it counts as far as I'm concerned
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