Kickin' A$$, Takin' Names

Last night I pulled a Rocky- I pulled out my old cottons, my gloves, and ten bucks and hit Tokyo Joe's dojo for some good old ass kicking. 

 

I *hope* someday to have a high kick like HilSwank.  Maybe sans the scrunchy socks...

Years ago Face and I went religiously to this cardo kickboxing class twice a week.  We went back a few times with Smarty and/or Poet before Face's wedding a year and a half ago.  Poet's been back in town from NYC for almost a year now, and trying to stay active in a very car-oriented society.  She's regularly invites me to Hot Yoga class, which is right behind the building I work in.  She's looking to do her 30 mile round trip commute on a bike in the spring.  And she's encouraging Face and I to go to kickboxing. 

I'm so happy she did.  I noted the leather on my gloves was stiffer than I remember- a side-effect of neglecting them.  It took a bit of wear to loosen them up, and it took a bit of class to loosen me up as well.  We worked on heavy bags with combinations.  At first I took it slow, trying to get the form back into my body, place my feet correctly, but by the end of class I was wailing on that bag.  ::Jab, cross, hook, (feet shuffle) kick::  Drop and do pushups for 60 seconds.  ::cross, hook, uppercut, elbow, roundhouse::  Drop and 50 side-crunches each side.

By the end of the 50 minutes we were sweaty and feeling great.  While my body felt like it was slipping into a pair of old jeans, Poet is still just learning the moves and form.  She did a great job, worked hard, and seemed to feel amazing.  I'm glad to see the supportive attitude that kept Face and I returning class after class remains at the dojo.  The teacher came around to each group to ensure we were using proper form AND trying our hardest.  

Right now I plan to go to kickboxing every Thursday.  It's fantastic cross-training for my hip and ankle, and pretty much the only upper-body workout that I do.  Bonus: kicking and punching feels GOOOOOOD.

All the World is a Stage

So I received an email from a theatre company, Ghostlight, that I have some ties to.  It was a sorta mass e-mail encouraging me to be a member again and subscribe to their season.  Feeling generous and bored at work I reviewed what they had on tap.  I was intrigued especially by one play.  I looked a bit farther into it and found that I was a bit captivated by a certain role... a female role... a female in her mid-to-late-20's role... good golly with some moisturizer I could play that role....

I read a bit of the script, though honestly not all.  I reached out to Shorty for advice and feedback.  Then I shoved the idea to not just the back burner, but the nosebleed seats burner.  It stewed on low like a crockpot on the counter.  I'm still not sure what the final result will be, but I'll be damned if I can't stop from stirring the pot, taking a big whiff and seeing if I like what's cooking.

The current auditions are at a time I can't make.  Bummer- and said as much.  Well, what do I get for opening my mouth but another possible opportunity: a second audition date, even farther away with a schedule to be determined.  Since I like to book myself eons ahead, this could be an issue.  However, the rehearsal schedule would ALSO demand I take time from my current schedule and possibly sacrifice some plans I had already made.  Am I ready for that?

Audition calls for a prepared monologue.  Cool- I've done that.  In college, and a bit after... so that means all the characters in those monologues are in their early 20's and the plays they come from are all slightly dated, like Kim Kardashian's sex tape or Double Rainbow Guy's youtube video..  It's not that it's not entertaining, but.... well, we've heard it before.

So now I'm in a position... do I want to do all this work for possibly very little payoff?  What if it does pay off and I get the role and I can't do some of the runs or hikes I had planned?  Do I even still have that spark that a few special people saw in me once?  I feel the passion and the drive... Will that be enough for me?  If I prepare and don't get this, will that be ok?  If I prepare and I do get this, will that be ok?

Tomorrow I will search for a new monologue.  And we'll go from there.

 Ballet in first grade- this is where I learned I am NOT graceful.

College- where I had to dance again, but at least it was "modern" and "Greek"

Pocket found my true talent: awkward.  Yes, I'm pooping on a laptop.

Bear Brook Fat Ass, January 29th, 2011

About Christmas time Dad let me know that he and his girlfriend L were going to be vacationing in the White Mountains the last week in January, and could they stop by and stay over on their way home?  This invited the idea of planning a "Fat Ass" event: a run (generally) with no aid stations, a group of crazy folks, and beer at the end.  I had initially planned on a 29K- about 18 miles total- in Bear Brook State Park.  I've never run this distance, plus it's the middle of winter and training time is sparse... this was gonna be a challenge to complete, never mind plan.

With all the snow we've had there was no way we were running without at least some serious traction.  I ended up suggesting snow shoes or cross country skis to anyone partaking.  I downloaded a map of Bear Brook's trails, read the descriptions of each one, coded them for difficulty, and mapped out a route with two "peaks" and plenty of rolling terrain.  Since snowshoeing is more taxing than "mere" running, I downgraded the distance.  The large loop measured a bit more than 9 miles according to the map scale, with three bail-out points between 5 and 6 miles.

Planned route at Bear Brook State Park

Know me and you know that I take my "planner" responsibilities pretty seriously.  I was worried no one would show up.  Then I was worried a lot of people would show up and they'd hate it.  I worried that I forgot something crucial.  The morning of the event came and I knew at least 7 people were coming out to play in the woods and at least 5 were coming back to eat at my place after.  My head swam with logistics about feeding people, ensuring my house guests were comfortable, packing proper food and hydration.

My Runner and Sherpa had met at 6:15am that morning to start on the trails and gain some extra mileage in anticipation of the Peak Snow Shoe Race in March.  Their pre-surveillance of the trails, as well as Sherpa's familiarity with BBSP, turned out to be very helpful.

So, I forgot the map.  Obviously.  Though it turns out I didn't even have the correct one- I had the Summer Trail Map that didn't show which trails were groomed for snowmobiles and what trails we'd have to break.  Luckily Sherpa came prepared (at least the tens of thousands of tuition dollars paid for SOMETHING... saving my ass!) with 6 copies of the winter trail maps. 

Next surprise- Dad and L had one pair of snow shoes between them.  Snow shoes that were likely made by Inuits at least 10 years before I was born.  Seriously, these things shoulda been in a museum.  After learning how groomed the trails were, I suggested they both wear their x-country skis.  L was still gaining confidence in her skis, and Sherpa re-assured her that she could handle the terrain. 

The group heading out from the parking area

Ten people and a doggie set out from the parking lot (which was NOT the lot I had planned on starting from- the gates to THAT lot were closed despite what I had been told by park staff).  The weather was warm: about 25* at 10am.  Spirits were high, and we were all chatting and having a grand time.  I felt great, despite being tired and having forgotten the map.

The first turn came to go up Bear Hill and the trail was steep and ungroomed.  A decision was made that the cross-country skiers, Dad and L, the two "novice" snow shoers G and J, and the doggie would go off on their own.  The rest of us would "catch up" (yeah right).  We didn't see Dad and L again until the parking lot. 

Gazelle, Sherpa, me, Taps, Puma, and photog My Runner

My Runner, Sherpa, Puma, Gazelle, Taps, and myself broke trail up the slope.  The trail on the map appeared to be no more than a quarter mile, but the sign at the trail head stated 1.2 miles to the summit (the first in MANY signs that this day would be longer than expected).  We all worked hard breaking the trail taking turns in the lead until we reached the summit.  About a tenth of a mile from the top we saw the quarter mile summit trail that was the PLANNED route... whoops.  We used it as a return route and began down the groomed Podunk Road.  (Seriously.  Podunk.  I *wish* I could make this shit up.)

The snowmobilers were out in droves.  I knew Bear Brook was popular for snow mobiles, but we spent a quarter of the time hunkered by the side of the groomed road choking on fumes.  The positive- at least half of them were polite and shared the roads with us. 

It wasn't long- ok, it WAS long, but we weren't far into my planned hike when I leaned over to Taps who has a fancy-schmancy GPS watch and said, "How long we been out here?"
"About two hours."
"And... how far have we gone?"
"5.3 miles."
"Shit.  Sherpa, lemme see that map...."

Taps and me on the trails

We were about a third of the way into the "9 mile" loop, and still quite a distance from the bail out points.  I was feeling great, but Gazel had only snowshoed about 4 times this year, and Puma was nursing an injury and coming back from time off.  We weren't going super fast, but I realized there was no way this was gonna be short for anyone.  I confided in Sherpa, who looked at me knowingly.  "I didn't know how to tell you without stepping on your toes..."  Whelp, in for a penny in for a pound today.  Shit, in for a penny in for a kilo and a bonus pack.

Gazelle, Puma, and Sherpa

My Runner giving me a (deserved) long-suffering look

Ultimately we were on the trail for about 5 hours and 11.5 miles.  Dad and L arrived at the parking lot an hour and change before us, and gallantly picked up beer for everyone.  At the mention of beer, Gazelle, true to her name, sprang ahead, eager to take of her snow shoes and relax.

Gazelle waiting impatiently for us to catch up, Sherpa with his trademark Shit-Eating-Grin

I felt GREAT at the end of 11.5 miles.  Puma was hurting, but in good spirits once her shoes were off.  Taps was still bouncing off the walls- that guy has ENDLESS energy.  Sherpa seemed to have a great time, but headed home early (poor guy can't have beer now anyways...).  My Runner had angered his achillies after 18+ miles of snowshoeing in boots not really made for hiking or outdoor sports.

Dad, L, Taps, Puma, My Runner, and I retired back to my place for salty snacks and crock-pot fajitas.  The beer flowed, we chatted about hiking, races and runs past and future, and much more.  Fred got some cuddle love.  I started to fade around 6:30, kicked out the guests, had one last beer with Dad, then excused myself and slept, SOUNDLY, for 10 hours.

I made many "mistakes" with this first Fat Ass.  I'm still not sure what happened with the map scale, and I really should have scouted at least the parking area.  While I understand the decision to break up the group, I was bummed I didn't spend more time with Dad on the trails.  However I was very happy snow shoeing ELEVEN MILES!  And luckily my mistakes didn't result in any serious injuries or illnesses.  Best of all, I got to explore an amazing park that's about twenty minutes from my apartment.

It'll be a while before I plan a Fat Ass again, but when I do I hope to at least not make the same mistakes twice.

Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival- 25k

We woke up early.  My Runner and GB were running the 50k, which started two hours before the 25k. I sat outside with them while they got ready, somewhat awake and alert.  Puma was running the 25k, but heading up with the boys to take pictures and fill her time at the festival before the start.  We'd convinced Mr. Strong to join us for the 25k, so now four of us (Mrs. too) would be crossing the start at 10am to run 15.6 miles today.

In the car on the way, I realized I had forgotten my team shirt hanging on the clothes line.  Between being tired, nervous, and emotionally strained, I started crying.  I didn't feel like I could ask to go back for it (even though it was offered) but I didn't want to not represent the team.  In the end, it was one of many little moments that my mind made into big huge deals over the weekend.

The weather was getting warmer, and the air was hazy from the fires in Canada.  We had run out of sunscreen.  Normally I carry several tubes with me, but my car had broken on Thursday before the trip, and in the commotion I had forgotten to transfer everything I needed.  With my ghost-like skin, I need sunscreen on a daily basis or I'm likely to turn into a lobster, then shed the entire layer of skin, and remain pale as a ghost.  One more thing to worry about, ::plop:: on my plate.

I arrived at the farm with Mr. and Mrs. Strong, and we met up with Puma.  Three newbies and a veteran, we bumbled about trying to figure out what we'd need, where things should be put, where were the aid stations, etc.  As start time approached, my nerves (oddly) settled.  We snapped a few pre-race photos, stashed the camera, and the four of us lined up.  Mrs. Strong was pretty adamant about running together, though I know she's a much stronger runner than I am.  I told her we'd see, and though I'd appreciate the company I didn't want to hold her up.  My main goal was to finish- who knew how long that would take?

Mr. and Mrs. Strong, Puma, and myself

A cowbell sounded the start, and we were off, moving at a trot.  The first path is much more narrow than the corral, resulting in everyone crossing the start quickly then slowing as we all try not to bump into each other.  Puma pulled ahead of us as Mr. and Mrs. Strong and I stayed together.  We kept it an easy pace, chatting with each other.

Like yesterday, the course was beautiful.  It was nice to see more of the farm.  Aid stations were incredibly well stocked with not only water and food but ibuprofen, sodium tablets, and :: hallelujah:: sunscreen.  By the time we were really out, all my nerves had calmed.  I was feeling good, the Strongs were running at about my pace, and we were having a great time.

As we reached the 5k mark, handily noted for us by a sandwich board on the course, I realized I was feeling much better today than yesterday.  I attributed part of that to the company, and part of it to the "warm up" of running yesterday.  I realized I still had a long way to go; I didn't want to put the cart before the horse.

We caught up with Puma at some point before 10k, ran with her a bit, and eventually passed, though she stayed pretty close behind us for the rest of the run.  My Runner and GB were on the same course as us, doing 2 loops to make the 50k, and we finally crossed paths at the "Yurt" aid station, which the course hits three times.  They were looking great well into their second loop, and it was awesome to get the chance to pass along well wishes.

The Strongs and I stuck together the whole run.  There had been the usual "you don't have to wait for me" and "run your own race" mutterings, I think we were all happiest for the company.  We spoke of many things (fools and kings), including upcoming hikes, family (good and bad), the run itself, potential future outings, trips to Portsmouth, and Coffee Talk with Linda Richmand.  For some reason, this classic Mike Myers character captivated Mr. Strong and myself- we passed probably 5 miles with impersonations.

Our spirits were definitely high.  Our bodies, however, had other ideas.  Mrs. Strong had been suffering from shin splints as a result of her 10k jaunt the day before.  Mr. Strong's knees were starting to have issues around the 15k mark, and ibuprofen wasn't keeping up with it.  I was just plain tired, and my feet felt like they were mincemeat.  We ran the last third of the race much slower than the first third, though despite her shin splints Mrs. Strong lived up to her name and was ready to kick ass and take names.  Mr. Strong urged us on.  We would run forward, waiting for him at aid stations or walking through a nice shady area.  I can't say I minded the pace.  I suppose we could have kept running, leaving Mr. Strong on his own, Mrs. Strong leaving me in the dust, but we had spent the last 3 hours together talking, working through our highs and lows, enjoying the day, activity, and company.  Why would I run away from that?  For a 10 minute earlier finish time?  Whatever.  Any finish got me a cowbell- I'd rather we crossed together as a symbol of our journy.

And that we did.  3:43:10 for all of us.  Three way hug, cowbells received, Mrs. Strong sat Mr. Strong down to rest his knees and brought him some restorative brew from Smutty Nose.  I had seen Puma in the field before we finished, so I knew she wasn't far behind.  I waited at the finish line, and sure enough there she comes, 3:49:47, looking strong.

Having started two hours before us, I knew My Runner and GB wouldn't be much father behind us.  I ran (yes, literally, after running 15.6 miles) to the car to get the camera for post-race pictures, meeting up with the rest of our camping group in the process.  I was hoping to meet up with my runner in the grove before the finish and run in with him.  I handed the camera to Puma and walked into the shady grove, scrutinizing every runner in a whit shirt, white visor, and dark shorts.

As I waited, an older runner walked into the grove having a hard time.  Suddenly he stopped, grabbing his thigh- he was cramping up.  I walked over to him and offered my assistance- salt tabs? ibuprofen? water? food?  I shifted to crew mode in .02 seconds.  He was so close to the finish... or so I thought.  He was running the 50 MILE!  He had one more loop to complete!  This guy had to be in his 60's, maybe older. Even though he was struggling I was thoroughly impressed by this man.  He politely declined my offers, thanked me for my assistance, and explained he'd been cramping since finishing his first loop.  We walked together as we chatted, and when we emerged from the grove he felt well enough to run a little.  I wish I had gotten his name or race number so I could follow up with his results.

The boys came in shortly after that.  As they crossed the road into the grove I fell in step with them and started talking with my runner, ready to run in with him.  GB had other ideas, challenging My Runner to a sprint to the finish.  I knew I didn't have that power, so I walked behind them, glad I gave Puma the camera to catch their finish.

We grabbed beers, chatting with some other runners from the area, and basked in the sunshine.  With all my nerves and emotional ups and downs, I didn't even stop to think that this was the longest distance I had run to date.  I was happy with my finish time, and had a great time running with the Strongs.  My ankle felt great, and I was excited to start a training schedule and get back out there with My Runner.

Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival- Preview

This Memorial Day weekend I'm heading up to Maine with a group of friends to camp and participate in the Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival.  I'm scheduled to run a 5k (3.1 mi) on Saturday at a 25k (15.5 mi) on Sunday.  This will be the first time I've run since I re-sprained my ankle on April 24th.  You know, the 5k run that was killing me because I was out of shape?  Yeah, that one.

I know I'm not in shape at all for these runs.  My ankle isn't 100% (best I can tell it's 80-90%, but it hasn't really been tested yet).  I should be able to jog the 5k in 45 minutes, and I have 9 hours to finish the 25k.  You'd have to average 35 minute miles to but up against that deadline.  With my ankle in a brace, I could walk 15.5 miles and finish well under the cutoff time- something I may do.

I'm chomping at the bit to get back to running.  Feeling my body morph from lean and fit to soft over the last few weeks has been pretty demoralizing.  The weather has been beautiful, but I've yet to be able to play outside.  I have plans for long hikes and a few other races this summer, including relaying the VT 50 with my dad, and I'd like to be healthy and ready to take them on.  Healthy, of course, is a combination of being physically fit enough for the challenges and having strength back in my ankle.

So, I will "run" these two races this weekend.  I WILL be careful.  I'm not looking to set speed records here. I'm thinking of it as dipping my toe in the pond, testing the waters.  How will my ankle hold up?  My body?  How sore will I be?  What do I need to focus on when I restart my training?  What type of cross-training will help strengthen my weak spots?

No matter what the results of my "testing" are, this weekend promises to be fun.  A good reminder as we memorialize loved ones that life goes on, and the best way to remember those that are gone is to enjoy our lives to the fullest, as they would have wanted for us.

The Joy of Running

I'm finding it again.  The beautiful weather we had Saturday certainly helped.  Running in a t-shirt and fleece, the sun shining, snow melting, spring scents tantalizing my nose... My Runner chose a course that ran us 4 miles and change, bringing me even with my longest "pre-owie" run.  Some of it was hard, and I was tired at the end, but I did it and I know I can do more.  It was a very emotional weekend, but running in the sun, moving where I wanted under my own power, enjoying the company of someone I care about, putting one foot in front of the other, it became a release, an escape, an oasis, an encapsulated moment of joy.*


This Sunday marks my first race since December.  J.P. McBride's, a 3 mile race and the first of the Wild Rover series.   I'm looking forward to the race and the excitement that an "event" brings to a run.  The only downside is the poor planning on my part that put an annual Luau bash (hosted by yours truly) the night BEFORE this race.  Still, I caught the racing bug for a reason.  I think the performer in me responds to the crowds, the excitement, and the ritual of pinning a number on your clothing.  I know I respond to the competitiveness of running "against" other people, though I'm not really looking to place or win.**




*Forgive me, Grammar Natzis, for I have sinned by overusing commas.  Consider it dialog and cut me a pass this time, k?  :-)
**The biggest issue with being 29 for the next 10 years is that I'm often competing for trophies with 18 and 19 year olds.  That doesn't seem fair.  Maybe I'll have a "racing age" and a "life age."

Back in the (Training) Saddle Again

Running Partners

With permission from my excellent PT staff, I'm back training again.  It's hard.  Sometimes to the point of being demoralizing.  The first time I did a mile and change I thought I would die on the last hill.  2.5 miles was similarly killer.  Mentally I accept that this is where my body is after taking such a long rest, but emotionally it's a very difficult pill to swallow.  I get into my head, think about how much I lost and how far I have to go....  then it's a downward spiral.  My chest gets tight, the tears sting my eyes, my teeth clench... none of which actually contributes to my running.

The other night when My Runner and I were out on a 2.5 miler, he made a good point (this happens a lot....).  He asked what I was so worried about.  Getting re-injured is my biggest fear.  "Before or after the half-marathon?"  Well, either, really.  "You have to pick one," he pushed.  Well, if I have to choose, it would be before.  I don't have any races scheduled for weeks after the half.  I don't care if I drag my mangled limbs over the finish line as long as they CROSS the finish line.  "Then focus on the smaller races.  Increase your mileage slowly.  If you have to walk to finish the races, so be it.  It beats not being able to even toe the line."  He was right.  I've been worrying so hard about the half-marathon, but I have FOUR races to complete before I even do that. 

I'm working on a new training schedule.  It's all very informal now.  It's been suggested that I track my miles here so I stay accountable, but I'm reluctant.  Partly because I PROMISE THIS ISN'T A RUNNING BLOG.  Partly because maybe I'm not ready to be accountable.  Maybe I'm afraid to really see how far behind I am in numerical form.  It will solidify my feelings of defeat. 

I'm also afraid I'll get hurt again before the next race.  In fact, I did hurt myself again on Saturday.  Luckily, it wasn't lasting and I was able to rest it and run on Sunday, but it was scary and frustrating enough that I couldn't hold back the tears.  Sure, it hurt physically (tweaked my quad when I slipped on ice), but mentally I felt so defeated.   I'm afraid I'll get so frustrated I'll want to chuck the whole thing.  I'm afraid I'll never find running fun again.  I'm afraid My Runner will get so fed up with my negative attitude he'll stop wanting to run with me.

So, as much as I need to work on my training physically, I need to work on my mental state.  I have to find the joy in running, overcome the frustration and negativity.  I found personal joy in running; that's why I invested so much time and effort in it.  I miss that joy.  The feelings of defeat can be overwhelming sometimes, but as I run, as My Runner talks me through my feelings, and as I work through my fears, I'm finding that the negativity is lessened.  I still huff like an ornery Clydesdale going up the tough hills, letting out the occasional ragey groan at how tough it is.  I still feel my chest tighten when I let the bad stuff wash over me.  But it's easier to hold the tide at bay.  Sunday, running 3.5miles for the first time since my injury, I actually found myself smiling and laughing during the run.  I felt some joy at running.  It was wonderful, and I can't wait to run again and work on finding that feeling.  My next training goal isn't distance, it's joy.

Not extatic, but moving toards joyfull....

DoubleMint

This is the second week I've played two hockey games in a row, even though we're four weeks into the season.  Already this season I'm feeling much more confident about my playing, and I'm having a lot more fun while I'm on the "ice."

The two teams (Nerd Herd on Mondays and Jets on Tuesdays) have pretty different dynamics, even though teams share not only a captain and goalie but also 4 other players (including myself).  Though in general I feel the Jets have a greater number of more experienced players, the team and the league feels like Nerd Herd circa season 3-4: we know what we're doing, so do our opponents, but no one's got a super-gelling team out there.  I think by the end of the season we'll all know each others' style much better, and the plays will come (I hope).

While I love my Herd, the last season and a half have been tough.  We've gotten to the playoffs with good strength twice.  Tasting the sweetness of victory has changed things- some for better some for worse.  I love everyone on the team; we've been together for at least a season and a half, many folks have been on the team since day one or I've known for years (ie decades).  Socially, it's the best group you could know.  However, the last season and a half has also seen a lot of negative energy, in part due to ignorant officiating, and in part to a misdirected competative spirit.  I came out of most games last season sad about my performance and even sadder at the shitty mood of the team.

This past weekend I played hockey with a bunch of the guys in an informal "pickup" type game.  All the other guys were on rollerblades, but since me + wheels = death I played the game on foot.  So, um, you guys, I guess we invented wheels 'cause it makes moving shit around a lot easier.  IE, I ran my ASS off.  But I played pretty well.  Not crazy awesome, but really solid.  Scored a goal, which is more than I can claim for my social leagues.  Got props from some of the guys who have been playing since they popped out of the womb.  I was exhausted by the end of the 4 hours of playing, but so SO happy.  And I realized I knew a lot more about hockey then I had previously thought.  I realized what a rut I was stuck in, mentally.  I realized I should trust my instinct and have faith in my abilities. 

I finally got my head on my shoulders.  All last season I thought I had lost it.  I felt like crap about my playing after every game.  I missed most of the passes, I got upset, beat myself up.  I'm so glad my faith in myself is restored.  I know playing with other people in a different environment has been a big part of this change.  Discarding the negative feelings I was carrying with me, part of which I was pulling in from other people (being empathetic has its advantages - not in hockey).

So.... yeah, my hip's kinda bothering me.  More than it has.  I totally over used it though, it's my fault.  Saturday 4 hours of hockey in 15-20 degree weather, Sunday 16 miles on the bike, 2miles and change running, Monday hockey, Tuesday hockey...  I'm limping like a grandma this morning.  I do my stretches and sometimes even do my exercises, but it's all for naught if I keep overusing my muscles.  I'm working on re-starting my half-marathon training, and I'll be sticking to it.  2 miles is WAY more of a struggle than it should be at this point in the process, but I need to make sure I don't overdo "recovery."

In the meantime.... I'm moving.  Probably in April or May.  It's a more emotionally charged process than I ever thought it could be.  More on that soon.  The storms just gaining momentum and it's hard to see clearly at the moment....

FatAss 50K (on a bike) Part 2

I check back on my group when I'm in front - everyone's looking good, so I ride ahead up this hill, challenging myself and knowing that they're alright.  Occasionally I see us from an outsider's eye: two or three runners on a cold winter day, and a biker with a silly striped hat.  I find it alternately absurd and fantastic.  I know there are people driving by in their SUV's, kids plugged in to the DVD player in the back, looking at us like we're crazy.  I know this because I used to be those people (sans SUV, DVD, and kids).  It's ok.  Either something will move them and they'll come around, or they won't.  I'm glad I came around.

One of the fun parts of going on any kind of trek, especially one that puts you in immediate contact with the world (as opposed to behind the window of a car or train, etc.) is seeing things you would never have seen otherwise.  Gross things, like riding over freshly killed chippies; random things like a glove stuck in a snow bank; awesome things like a FOUR TIERED SNOWMAN (seriously, that this was kickass).  I personally cherish those little sights and experiences.  Like cairns, they remind me that I'm on a path, creating mental landmarks and a framework for the journey.

Side note: Henniker must have an awesome sign maker, because almost every business, office, or establishment had a carved and painted wooden sign hanging out front.  It was very "old timey" looking, and I'm sure someone in the Henniker planning department is super proud of him-or-her-self for making businesses get them.  Mr. or Ms. Planning Department Person, well played.

Avoiding traffic in Henniker was a challenge.  The roads are narrow, there's a big long hill, and for some reason EVERYONE was out in their cars on Sunday.  Actually, traffic was pretty heavy almost half the time, even in Hillsboro.  The runners could move to sidewalks when they were available, but that wasn't a great game plan for me - the ice and snow was too unpredictable under my wheels, and (because I am stubborn) I wasn't wearing a helmet.

Entering into the Gould Pond area the second time, all the runners are tired.  I'm cold, my quads are a little stiff, and my butt is totally saddle sore, but I'm still feeling pretty good over all.  It was unspoken, but everyone could feel the mood dropping.  Instinctively, we all took turns doing our best to keep things light, keep everyone moving forward, keep minds off of hurting feet or aching legs.  Sherpa exclaims that the last 6 miles in Hillsboro to be the LONGEST SIX MILES EVER and he's not wrong.  I knew I was feeling better than these guys, but good GOD it took forever to get through that neighborhood!

That last turn back onto Bog Rd. was magical.  One final hill, and at the top is the house.  We all wearily trudge up the driveway, looking forward to warmth (I *didn't* get frostbitten toes, thankfully), bathrooms (whatever moves you forward, right?), couches and kittehs.  Beef stew, "Turkey Beans," tea, water, chips, and an assortment of other belly warmers were consumed over the next few hours.  We said goodbye to Sherpa as he went home to his fiance, and gladly sank into the comfy cushions in the living room.  I've never been so content to drink tea and watch football in my life.

With all the fun I had, all the things I saw, there's nothing quite like the joy of completion.  I can never really relax until the job is done.  Even though I was stiff and cold, I felt great.  The state of my body was a testament to my day: completing 32 miles on my bike, however slowly, spending the day with friends, being out doors in this beautiful state, challenging myself.

FatAss 50K (on a bike) Part 1

My Runner had originally signed up for the Boston Prep Race this weekend.  Always frugal, he decided to save the entry fee and create his own run.  Thus the Fat Ass 50K was born: two 16 mile loops in Hillsboro and Henniker.  Since I'm convalescing, I rode it on my bike.  Sherpa joined us from the Seacoast, and Puma Girl on the second loop.

The forecast had predicted 37* temps and rain for Sunday.  Thank you, nature, for holding off on the rain, though the temps were low.  My Runner, Sherpa, and I on my cycle headed out at 9:30am in a crisp winter day with the sun shining through a few clouds.  The loop is beautiful, starting out on packed dirt roads and paved back roads of Hillsboro.  We cross under the highway and turn onto a road following the Contoocook River (ask Sherpa how it got it's name... )  In Henniker we cross over the highway again, following a rolling path back east, leading to the neighborhoods around Gould Pond and back to the start.  As the day moved from sunny to overcast, the landscape remained beautiful: country roads, downtown Henniker, a highway overpass with views of the mountains all around.

I love being out with My Runner.  It wasn't until we couldn't run together that I really knew how much I loved it.  I missed my running partner.  Sure, I miss running, but I mostly miss running with him.  Honestly, it's a great time for us.  We talk and laugh and catch up, we challenge each other, and sometimes it's the easiest time to say the hardest things.  Being out there with the bike wasn't the same, but it was close enough.  32 miles is a loooong run, even for an Ultra Runner, in the off season, and I'm glad I could be there with him through this challenge.

Sherpa seemed psyched to run Sunday morning.  If you haven't read his blog, I encourage you to.  While I don't agree with every opinion he has (and he's got a few...) I do agree with his core philosophy about human potential.  Hell, I've experienced it.  When I first met Sherpa at the VT50, he asked if I ran.  I'm pretty sure I laughed at him and at the thought of me EVER being a runner.  Well, shows what I know.  Anywhoodle, Sherpa was a frickin' riot on Sunday, catching My Runner and I up on some gossip, telling dirty jokes, sacrificing his gloves to the defecation gods, dancing down the road to Led Zepplin....  Not that there weren't quiet moments, but if you're gonna spend 6 hours in the cold, having a good time makes it much funner.

After a bit of food, bathroom breaks, and (for me) warmer socks, we were back out on the road.  Puma Girl joined us for the second lap.  Puma Girl has been training hard for the Peak Snowshoe Marathon and was nursing some heel pain, but luckily found that was not an issue today.  It's always great to see someone challenge themselves, and Puma did just that and came out on top.

A fresh addition makes a difference in a group.  Granted, I felt somewhat removed the whole time since I'm on wheels and they're on feet, but I could still observe the dynamic.  Actually, I could probably see it clearer.
I often had to choose to bike on ahead or slam my breaks and steer to the side to avoid traffic.  I preferred going behind the group rather than in front if I had to.  I liked seeing everyone, making sure they were all ok.  Still, even in front I had time to think about the day - we were out for 6 hours - and the group.  I remember when I was in high school in Venture class, Coach K would tell me that leading is harder than following.  I always knew that to be true when one is the lead in planning, on a group project, etc, and I was comfortable with that kind of risk.  But leading on a trail was frightening for me.  What if I'm going too slow?  Too fast?  What if I miss a marker and get us lost?  What if someone behind me sees my ineptitude and calls my dumbass on it?  Eventually, with the help of that class, I pushed my self to lead more often on the trail and let others lead more often in the planning.  I still find it challenging to be in the lead on excursions, but the combination of that experience at 18 and my subsequent years in this world have enabled me to let go of the anxiety and the questions.

Part 2 posted soon!

Therapy of the Physical Kind

You'd think with a family of medical professionals (and some working towards it) I'd be smart when it came to physical ailments.  Turns out I'm merely sophomoric.  And there's a reason I went into the arts and not the sciences.

I misdiagnosed my injury owie.  After my evaluation with Effie, my PT, today, she pinpointed the pain better than I or my doctor did and found that the rotator muscles, the ones that keep the ball in the socket of my hip joint, are actually the problem.  After a thorough session of stretching and flexing and pushing, she determined the cause to be high flexibility in my hips (I actually saw her eyes get wider when she was rotating my legs) but weakness in the adductor and abductor muscles (the in and out ones).

Effie also found that my quads were crazy tight.  She had me lay on the table with one knee at my chest and the other leg hanging off, with the edge of the table at butt level.  Apparently, one's leg should hang at a 90* angle.  Mine was more obtuse - closer to 120*.  Whoops.  She guessed the tightness was a combination of not stretching and my glutes compensating for my hips.

I walked out with homework and hope.  I have several stretches that I have to do daily, plus strengthening exercises.  She told me I was allowed to ride a stationary bike, but I should refrain from running until the pain goes away.  Effie will be doing my overall plan, though I'll meet with her and Laura, another clinician, twice a week.  Monday is my next appointment, and I'll be doing more exercises and getting new homework.

Obviously it's too early to tell if I'll be able to train at all or even run the half marathon.  I did let her know that I signed up for it and am going to VA, regardless of progress, but I'll be advised by them on if I should attempt it.  

It's nice to finally feel something other than frustration.  I felt like Effie really heard me.  She knew that being active was important to me.  She treated me like an individual, and took the time to help find stretches that worked for me, correcting my form in some cases.  It was everything I hoped for.  

The real challenge?  I've never been one to do my homework.  Of course, I was never as motivated by trigonometry as I am now.

Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News

I've got a bad case of.... tendinitis. 

I ran for the first time in over a week on Sunday.  2.2 miles, mostly dirt.  My hip was bothering me a bit when we were done.  Ten minutes after it was bothering me a lot.  An hour later, I was limping.  The next day, pain still.


The worst part about being injured is the total lack of control I have over it.  Sure, I can keep from injuring it further, mostly, but really I can't do anything to help.  And I hate it.  I hate that it slows me down.  I hate that I walk like an old lady if I've been sitting on it too long.  I hate that I think about it when I'm playing hockey or want to go running or snow shoeing.  I hate that it makes me cry, not from the pain but from the frustration.  Mostly I hate that it's keeping me from spending time with My Runner doing what we love. 


So I did the only thing I have control over.  I called my doctor on Monday to follow up.  A week of rest, ibuprofen, and ice and/or heat had not improved anything.  My pain was mostly gone during that week, but it often felt stiff or sore.  And obviously running aggravated it again.  The answering service took my information (yeah, they were open, they just screen calls with a service - how bureaucratic of them...) and I started looking for Physical Therapy offices. 


My Dad had a great suggestion - call a local running club for suggestions.  My Runner, taking it a step further, suggested I contact the local running store, as the local running club operates through them.  His suggestion was spot-on; they had several referrals for me.  Ultimately I chose a place that was relatively close by, and one of the staff is acquainted with My Runner.  Hopefully I won't feel as anonymous as I do at my doctor's office.  I called to ask if I needed a referral or prescription from my doctor (I did), and asked them to fax over any new patient forms I'd need to fill out (they did).  The nurse from my doctor's office called in as I was finishing that conversation.


She confirmed what I had told the answering service (seriously?  why bother?), and I spoke to her about PT.  She said, "Sounds like tendinitis to me.  There's no cure for that."  ::pause::  Yeah, ok, well I'd like to keep it from recurring.  "Well, it's not like we can perform surgery on it.  It doesn't go away."  ::more pause::  Yes, I understand, but I lead an active life style and I would like to work with a Physical Therapist so I can learn to keep this in check and avoid the pain.  "Oh.  Well, I'll have to go talk with the doctor."


Really?  Jeeze... ok.  Already diagnosed it as tendinitis (coulda told you that a week and a half ago when you said ibuprofen and ice, but ok), and now we need to "talk" to the doctor to see if it's ok if I go to PT?  Fine. 


"The doctor wants to see you before she gives you a prescription for PT.  Would you like an appointment next week?"  No, I want your next available appointment.  "Ah.  Tomorrow, 9:15am?"  Yes.  See you then.


Tuesday morning I arrive at the office at 9:10am, wait the customary 15 minutes, am ushered into an exam room where the medical assistant takes my pulse (51 bpm, not bad) and blood pressure (82/174 - is that good?  I don't even know....), and asks AGAIN what's wrong.  As she's writing it into the computer I wonder how many other entries they have with the EXACT SAME information.  You know, what I've told the answering service twice, the nurse twice, and now the medical assistant?  She leaves, the doc comes in, and asks me THE SAME DAMNED QUESTIONS.  And guess what?  She types them into the computer.  ::sigh::  I feel like some sort of typing test - who can type my complaint the fastest with the least amount of missed keystrokes?


She has me take off my pants (hottt, yeahh) and pushes around my hip a bit asking where it hurts.  I know this is a formality, but seriously, I pointed to my hip flexor tendon, and said, "It hurts here."  Guess what?  That's the only place she found where it hurt.  Then she had me push my leg around in different directions, I suppose to see WHICH hip tendon hurt when I was using it.  Ready for the big surprise?  Yeah, there's not one.  Same result.  Good job doc.  I'm sure she just had me in to collect the fees from Anthem.  Awesome.  Way to be a part of the big machine.


She tells me she's gonna send me to PT (duh - would have walked out and taken my insurance card to another office right then and there if she hadn't), and that they would help build up the muscle in my legs and lower torso to take some of the strain off my tendon.  Sure, whatevs, hon.  Just get the script and let me put my pants back on. 


At checkout I tell the nurse what PT office I had chosen.  She assures me she'll fax them my info and they'll contact me.  I'm an impatient sort - I ended up calling them that afternoon and set up an appointment for tomorrow.  I faxed in my patient information forms, and hopefully, starting Thursday, I'll be on the road to recovery.

Nerd Herd Season 5 Playoff Game

Last night was the playoff games for NHSSC hockey. Nerd Herd was 2nd seed in the league - pretty impressive considering not two seasons ago we were happy to have ANY wins.

The previous game saw a change in officiants. Not only was "Skip," the ref for most of the season, not there, but we had TWO refs, one of which was an old highschool/hockey buddy of Mop's. The calls were very different from Skip's, whose style is akin to "Penalty! by... um... eenie-meenie-miney-moe...." It was a fun game with a lot of play, and after winning we were psyched and ready to take on playoffs.

My spirits personally fell when I saw Skip was officiating again. I mean, he seems like a nice enough guy, but he really doesn't know hockey well, and he doesn't know how to control the game. He's not confident in his calls. The worst is that our team dynamic sinks dramatically every time we feel like we get a BS call. I play on this team for fun, not to get pissed. I can't say I blame my teammates - I'm rarely a victim of a bad call. But I knew our play would suffer for the bad attitude.

Still - pre-game milling was good. Team seemed in high spirits as we watched the first playoff game finish up between Seed 1 team and Seed 4 team. It was a tight game (with traditionally bad calls by Skip), but both teams were battling hard. My Runner and I did our pre-game laps around the track; I was trying to work out a little nag in my left calf that's been hanging in there since last Friday.

(Recap penned by El Capitan at the end of the post, for those of you who are stat-minded)

We start the game out feeling great. Herd's really cheerful (and CHEERING!). My Runner gets the first goal in our first shift. It was great. Unfortunately the other team brings it back and scores two on us. We get some weird whistles - calls that don't make much sense, but their warnings, so ok. Moral starts to drop a bit. I miss some passes, and an opportunity to shoot.

I'm getting frustrated at myself. I'm not really contributing to the offense. I'll crash the net and not be able to get open, or get open and miss the pass, or get the ball stolen 'cause I'm not looking. I'm covering other players when they're in our zone, and I'm able to slow down or steal the ball sometimes, but overall I've become a defensive player. Not really what a winger should be. Not in a playoffs game.

I keep coming off the rink mad. This isn't really like me. Sure I know when I'm playing better and when I'm worse, but usually I can keep my head in the game. This time I had to leave the rink, take deep breaths, not sob. My Runner, bless him, keeps coming to check on me. The nicer he is the harder it is to pull my self together. I do my best to ask him to go away without being a douche - difficult to articulate when you know you'll sob if you open your mouth. He seems to get it. I breath deep a few times, wipe my face, and get back in to support my team.

When I take a high stick penalty (and I hate this because I know as my stick is coming up to my wast to catch the ball that I'm gonna get called, but I can't stop it), I'm furious with myself. The team is down by one, now *I'm* making them play three-on-four. My stupidity has caused us to be down a man at a playoffs game. As soon as the whistle blew I knew it was my penalty, I spun around and practically ran off the rink. It took everything I had not to hurl my stick in frustration but a) that would get me kicked out of the game and b) my lovely teammates were all in the way - no need to cause more harm.

This time the sobs won't stay down. Again My Runner comes to check on me. Again I send him packing; he exacts a kiss before he goes. I know I need to calm down. I have at least one more shift on the rink and I have to play fully. I'm mad at my penalty and mad that I can't get my head in the game and mostly I'm mad that I'm so freakin' mad! This game is supposed to be fun and I've preached it AT THIS VERY MATCH that we need to calm down and play our game. Way to listen to my own advice.

The rest of the game passes as I hold it all in and do my best to be present for the team. We don't win, the team is upset, and the bad calls (which robbed us of possibly two goals) has pissed of Cap'n Mop to a level I have rarely seen. However, MiniMcL's boyfriend is there from CT with his kickass camera - that means team photo time! Everyone shakes it off, congratulates each other on a great season, and smiles are (hopefully) genuine.

Unfortunately, my crankiness extends to the after-party (the waiter being a total 'tard didn't help either). I feel awful about my behavior that night... Lovely MiniMcL singing her love for me and all I could say was, "please stop." I couldn't explain that I didn't want to burst into tears at Margaritas. Face and Smarty looking at me with concern, then *getting* that that was the problem, instantly turned things around to cheer me up. I love those girls.

Despite my own personal horribleness, it's been a great Nerd Herd season. I love my team, its awesomeness and its faults. I love playing hockey. I want to work to be better. If the team can't work together to get practices organized, I've got to find a way to practice on my own. I think that's the only way I'm ever going to be satisfied (or at least have a chance of satisfaction) with my game.

OFFICIAL TEAM UNOFFICIAL RECAP:

The Nerd Herd entered the NHSSCHL playoffs riding a wave of confidence

following the most successful season in franchise history. They met a

familiar foe in the opening round, the Road Runners.

The game opened with a fired up Nerd herd squad taking advantage of an

odd man rush. Phil "Cowboy" Turbe sent Mike "Cap'n Mop" Grages running

free up the boards, and he centered it to Josh "The Cat" Robert, who

collected it and fired it home for an early 1-0 lead. Unperturbed by

the fast start of the Nerd Herd, the Roadrunners fired back, scoring 2

goals before the end of the first period to take a 2-1 lead into the

second. The Nerd Herd battled back, appearing to score the tying goal,

but it was waived off, as the referee had "intended to blow" the whistle

before the goal was scored.

The second period began with the Roadrunners expanding their lead to 3-1

before the Nerd Herd could answer back. Phil again fed the ball down

the boards to Matt "TTT" Tetrault, who was able to find Jon "Turbo"

Turcotte who took advantage and narrowed the gap to 3-2. The Herd

continued the charge as Keith "Classy" Chasse got the ball deep in the

zone, Mop collected it and found Josh for his second of the game,

knotting the score at 3. The Roadrunners again surged back, scoring two

more quick goals before Josh finished off his hattrick. Katie "Killer"

McLaughlin chipped the puck down deep to Mop, and he found Josh in the

slot. Josh rifled it home and again brought the Nerd Herd to within 1

at 5-4 at the end of the second period. The Nerd Herd again thought

they tied the game, but The officials waived it off, saying the ball hit

the post. Video review seemed to support the Nerd Herd side, but it was

not counted.

Unfortunately, that was as close as the Nerd Herd got. The Roadrunners

scored to open the lead to 6-4, and then capitalized on another

powerplay to close out scoring at 7-4. Despite their frantic efforts,

the Nerd Herd couldn't get on the board in the third period.

Feaster Five - the Prequel

Last night was the very first time I've run 3.5 miles.

This is important because tomorrow is the first time I'll be in a 5K (3.1 mile) race.

I'm nervous and excited. And nervous. And excited. And we get pie, so that's fun. :-)

The hardest part of training recently has been getting my brain wrapped around the concept of running for more than 20 minutes. Actually, that's been the hardest part of training overall (other than recovering from the flu). My legs can do it, my lungs can do it, my brain is already in the other room stretching and thinking about a snack.

Last night I set a time goal rather than a distance goal and worked on some mental games. I figured I was running about three songs per mile. That really helped me visualize how long I'd be running for. I also used mental pictures to keep me interested in the run, since running on the treadmill is BO-RING! Images from watching others run, hikes I've been on, some of my out door practice runs, running behind My Oh-So-Hot Runner were some of the best.

It was not easy, but it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. The mental games really helped. This morning I was a little sore, but I didn't stretch for as long as I usually do since I stepped off the treadmill at 9:45pm (see previous post about over-commitments...) All in all, I'm happy with where my body is and hopeful that I'll have a fun time with Pocket Size at the race tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Off the Wagon

Thursday I rescheduled my run to Friday so I could buy shoes. Friday became socially packed, with two things to do right after work, plus meetings all day. Despite that, I attempted to run during my "lunch" break. I ran for a little more than three quarters of a mile on the treadmill and my feet were hurting too much. Saturday I had trapeze class and a date with Seacoast Writer while she was sequestered inland for a few hours. Sunday hockey practice was at a reasonable 11am, but still got there late, then headed up to My Runner's house for laundry, projects involving PVC piping, smoked pork, and snuggles.

Notice the almost complete lack of running in there? Yeah, I did too. I bet my body does too.

The plan is to get 2.5 in today on the treadmill at lunch. I hate running at lunch - the locker room at the gym is 8,000 degrees, so I'm never NOT sweaty (dear gyms - AC in the locker rooms is a good thing), plus I've eaten either right before or will be eating after so I'm never really in a good place food-wise. But tonight I'm going to see Minni-McL's Improv show in Boston right after work, soo....

I've always had a difficult time balancing my social engagements and my commitments. Apparently my training commitment is no different. Maybe I'll just have to get used to lunch time running.

New Shoes!

Buying shoes is nothing new for me. It is my chocolate, my massage, my glass of wine (well, when I don't actually have a glass of wine). New shoes are my ever loving delight, and having just the right shoes to complete the outfit (or just the right outfit to complement the shoe) makes my day.

Last night I went to a store I've never been to before. It's in downtown ManchVegas, stocked with a ton of shoes and very helpful salespeople. The gentleman that serviced me was nice, knowledgeable, and brought me a total of 8 different pairs of shoes before I found the right ones. They're perfect:

Yeah.... I got running shoes. Real, true, actually good for my feet running shoes.

It was such a bizarre experience for me to be a tried and true shoe shopper and yet have NO IDEA what I was looking for in a pair of shoes. I went specifically to Runner's Alley for a bit of assistance. First they watch you jog a little, asses your stride and foot etc., then throw a bunch of shoes at you and ask you what feels good. Apparently, different shoes are made to "correct" different issues in your stride.

I ended up with the Brooks Adrenaline pictured above. The reviews all seem to say the cushioning wears out after about 130 miles, but at $89.00 they were actually pretty economical as far as running shoes go. My other options were all above $100; I'd rather start cheap and find out I don't like these than start expensive and find out I don't like THOSE either.

One thing I don't really like about them - they're white. I hate bright white sneakers. They look waaay too new at first, and then they look like crap. But I didn't buy them for looks (really, I didn't. They had these totally cute Saucany's that were also nice but were $130 and I didn't get them. See?). I bought them for function. I'll be testing them today when I "lunch" at the gym for my 2.5miles. Hopefully they're keepers.

5K Training - The Real Challenge

Got hit with Whooping Cough or some other quaint disease this week which effectively put me out of commission. I stayed home from work most of the week, only going in on Wednesday, Veteran's Day, when no one else in the office would be around for me to infect (or to bug me. I was very productive that day). It also barred me from what was supposed to be my 20 minute run on Wednesday. Having a hard time dealing with inactivity on such a tight schedule, I volunteered to play goalie for the boys at Hood Park. It was fun, got a few new bruises and used shoulder and calf muscles I didn't know I had, but standing in the 40*(+/-) weather for an hour, damp through with sweat, after my shift probably did me in. My cough turned into a hack, my body ached from my toes to my scalp, and not moving made me soooo happy.

After recouping all day Thursday and most of the day Friday, I went for my scheduled run on Friday night with My Runner. I had planned on doing Wednesday's "timed" run of 20 minutes, rather than pushing through to Friday's "distance" run of 2.5 miles, since it would be an increase of 0.5 miles and it had been 4 days without running AND being sick. My Runner had different ideas.

We ran a loop in his neighborhood, which is maybe a bit South of EBF, NH. Mostly dirt roads, definitely no sidewalks or street lamps. I was having a tough time. It took a while for my body to loosen up after 3 days of bed rest. Once that happened, I realized how bad my lungs really were still. I hadn't been breathing deeply, except for coughing, since Monday. My esophagus was a little ravaged. The air was chill and dry, not helping me stay comfortable. Still, the 5:30pm traffic zipping down the country lane kept me thinking about things other than my legs and my lungs, namely staying alive.

(ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.)

((you know you were thinking it.))

(((incedentally, i love that this is the song you're supposed to sing to accurately time out chest compressions when giving cpr. well, this song or "another one bites the dust," depending on how morbid your inner radio is.)))

This was the first run I've done with significant hills. I'm glad for it - it's something I know I'll need to work on, and it was good to get My Runner's advice on how to handle pacing adjustments for the uphills. I was completely winded when we got back to the house, but happy that I ran the whole thing, later confirmed to be 2.4 miles - longer than I've run in one go yet.

It's funny how different things can encourage you to move forward on different days. Sometimes I just need my running partner to talk to me - when Pocket and I went running last weekend, I barely noticed the time as we chatted and caught up about boys and jobs and such. When I ran with her today (another 2.4 mile loop, this time in her neighborhood on pavement), it was all I could do to take a small part in the conversation. I love listening to My Runner tell stories about other runs he's been on, or about something stupid that happened at work. Flirting with him keeps me moving forward too, though that's usually a whole different kind of motivation... When I'm running on my own, only certain songs will do, keeping my body fluid and ready to move, beat driving me on.

The hardest part is how easily I can get broken down. My Runner likes to ask, "how are you feeling?" That question forces me to examine my body in the middle of the run. When I do my mental self-exam and feel my calves aching and my hip flexor getting touchy and my lungs raking air in and my face hot and dry.... Knowing I feel like crap is hard. SAYING I feel like crap makes it real and all of a sudden I want to stop. Running in Pocket's neighborhood I was familiar enough with the terrain to know exactly HOW FAR until we got back to her house, and HOW BAD I wanted to stop running. I didn't, but convincing my mind to keep running was just as hard as convincing my body.

It's mental. I mean, I am recovering AND pushing, so it's physically hard, but I know my body is completely capable of running 2.5 miles. But feeling like I want to, being aware of that carrot dangling in front of my face, finding a way to adjust my pace, cadence, etc., to deal with the little aches and pains, THAT'S the challenge that I'm facing now. These last two runs were hard, physically, yes. But they were HARD. Mentally. I'm not just training my body for this run, I'm training my mind.

Next Training Run: Tuesday, on my own, 25 minutes. Goal: Time & Hills

5K Training - Pavement

Lastnight was my 15 minute run. (Well, ok, I've run longer on a treadmill, but that's like running in a hamster wheel.) I have yet to figure out how far I went - I suspect it will be close to 1.5 miles. (ed.- it was 1.6 miles, actually) I ran from my office in a Millyard that has been converted to office and storefront space, so there is always a lot of light and there are a lot of people around at that time. Now that it's mostly dark when I get out of work at 4:30, I'm a little nervous to run by myself in Manch, especially in my neighborhood. I used the tricks I learned from living in NYC - stay where it's light and there's a lot of foot traffic.

I don't own a watch, so I created a playlist on my ipod that was 18 minutes long (extra time for warm up and cool down walk) to time my run. It worked pretty well. And, while it wasn't *easy*, the run wasn't hard either. The problem with being by the riverfront at the Millyard is that there's no hills - just a few slight inclines.

I hope to be able to drive the course in Andover before long so I can see what the terrain is like and be sure I'm preparing correctly for it.

Next training run: Saturday, with Pocket Size. Goal: 1.5 miles

5K Training - Setting the Schedule

Yesterday and today I worked on actually plotting a training schedule to get ready for the 5K. Apparently, 5 weeks is what is reccomended. Whoops.

Pocket Sized and I compared dates and came up with a few days to run together before the race. That was a start. I let My Runner do some legwork and he found the following resources which I leaned on:

http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-380-381--11944-0,00.html

http://www.runnersworld.com/images/cma/beginner5k_table.jpg

http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-380-381--11940-2-1-2,00.html

There's a TON of resources for training for a 5K. Couch-to-5K programs are everywhere, and they're all basically the same. They include a lot of run, then walk, then run. And most of them take 5 weeks or more. But I've got 3.

So I took the table from the middle link and adapted it. I'm running just about every other day, sometimes with an extra day. Here's the plan:

11/2 - 1.25mi (yeah, that was yesterday - ran before hockey. Hockey running doesn't count towards this plan.)

11/4 - run 15 min

11/7 - run 1.5mi

11/9 - run 20 min

11/11 - run 20 min

11/13 - run 2.0 mi

11/15 - run 25min

11/17 - run 25 min

11/19 - run 2.5mi

11/22 - run 30 min

11/24 - run 3mi

11/26 - run 5K race

I really like the combination of timed runs vs. mileage runs. I've been so focused on distance lately that running for a time will be a good mental change. I hope to maintain about a 10- or 11-minute mile pace, though 10 would be ideal.

Looking at this schedule, having days off is frustrating, but I know I need them to let my body rest. I'd like another week - maybe another couple of 3 mile runs before I do the 5K. But as it is I'm increasing my distance a little on the fast side. I'm going to have to really commit to doing warm up/cool down and stretching to make sure I don't injure myself. I'm also still playing hockey and I've got my next trapeze class near the end of this training.

I'm pretty confident I can do this. Whelp... I'm doing the race. I'll finish it. One way or another. Hopefully on my feet. :-)

5K Training - Running in the Rain

I'm training for my first 5K race scheduled for Thanksgiving morning. This is my first "training" run - previously I had been running just to run, or to warm up for hockey. For my first "training," I had planned to run two miles last night. Then, well, maybe 1.5. I barely made it 1.

It was POURING yesterday. I wanted to have the experience of running in adverse conditions. Of course I have no "gear" for running in the rain - just a gortex rain jacket (thanks, Smarty Pants!) and, well, clothes. My Runner has all this stuff - spandex underarmor, arm bands, tech shirt... I have yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee from Old Navy.

All day I had been ready to run. I was psyched about signing up for the 5K with Pocket Size, and she and I had made a schedule to run together before the race. I'm working on a training schedule - there's a lot of "couch to 5K" type programs that are easy to adapt. All my planning is based on the thought that I could go at least 1.5 miles on this run.

Even when the day turned as dark as night and the rain was coming down in sheets, I was ready to go. I was excited to get wet. It felt hardcore to run in the rain. Like, maybe now that I'm a jock, I can *also* be a runner. My Runner asked me, "You sure you want to run?" about eight times while we were getting ready. YES. I want to run.

We drive to the park where we usually run, but it's so dark the thought of running through the woods is kinda scary. Even though it's wetter, we decide to use the track. This was bad choice number two (bad choice number one happened earlier, but I didn't know it yet). There are three guys working on speed - THEY are hardcore. I am an amateur. But I'm ready to run. I'm excited to be here. We start running as we approach the track. About 50 yards in, it hits me: I don't wanna run.

My body is more than complaining, it's fighting me. Every muscle that I use to run is bitching that it has the day off. It starts cajoling me - just walk, it says. We don't mind moving, but not running, please, anything but that!!

I slow my pace, but I keep going. My Runner has upped the positive energy to help me through it. "How do you feel?" he asks a few times. "Fine." (Subtext - I don't want to think about how I'm feeling, I just want to finish and get it over with.) The rain isn't bothering me. The cold is there, but not with a mission, not with a vengeance. I just don't want to be running.

I know 1.5 won't happen. But I can't run less than a mile. I won't walk - I know this is something my body CAN do, and I know I'm not going to hurt myself running a mile. Besides, I'm here, I'm wet, and I've dragged another person with me. I tell myself these things over and over. I think about Sherpa and the fact that he did this for THIRTY SIX HOURS and I'll be done in less than 15 minutes.

Why is my body rebelling? I played hockey on Monday, ran a mile before that on the track with no problem. I didn't even drink the night before. I ate lunch at.... oh. There it is. The last thing I ate was a banana at 2:30pm, more than 3 hours ago. Mistake number one has reared it's ugly head.

I can't not eat. Well, I can, but it turns me into Mr. Hyde. My blood sugar levels completely affect me emotionally and physically. I've made this mistake before - most recently at a hockey practice where I became dizzy and sick after playing a hard 15 -20 minutes of 3 on 3. Now I carry the granola bars Mop bought me that night in my hockey bag - half of one will stave off any issues without filling me so much I don't want to move around. Tonight I have learned that lesson again.

We complete the mile. I have a little pang in my side and a pit in my stomach a mile wide. Smells from The Puritan Restaurant are driving me wild. When we get back in the car, my brain shuts off and I'm floating through the world. I need to get food now.

Home's not too far, food's heating up less than 10 minutes after leaving the park. I wolf down the fabulous smoked beef and local veggies My Runner cooked up and brought over, washing it down with a Gold Lager from Soudt's, I make my third mistake: food overkill. I stressed my body by exercising with no fuel, and it was not interested in the high octane it was getting. I kept eating, knowing that I needed it, but I was not feeling good, and it was all I could do to keep my brain on the conversation My Runner and I were having. Even then, I'm not sure I was all that successful.

So - lessons learned: 1. Set appropriate goals. 2. EAT, fool! 3. If you break a rule, don't overdue the fix.

Next training run: Friday. Plan: 1 mi, + up to .5 if I'm feeling it. Goal: distance.