Race Report: Run for the Rolls, or, The Longest Warmup Ever

Yesterday was quite the day of running for me. First, I was up at 6:25 am for my RF501 group training run; my scheduled distance this week was 18 miles, my longest run ever. When we set out it was already 67 degrees with over 95% humidity. I took it easy for the first 9 miles of the run, keeping my splits between 8:55-9:11 and averaging 9:01/mile for the half. After I reached the out-and-back route's turnaround point I decided to pick it up for the final 9 miles. Miles 10-15 I did in 8:53, 8:51, 8:34, 8:23, 8:29 and 8:32. I was feeling good. Then...mile 16. 8:57. Mile 17: 9:29. Mile 18, last mile: 9:39. I think I got my first taste of "The Wall." It happened so fast. One minute I was tooling along at a comfortable pace, the next I felt like someone had dropped a load of bricks on my shoulders and tied cannonballs to my ankles. I had taken my last Gu packet at mile 12 and took in water and Ultima at mile 14, so I thought I would have enough spring in my step and fuel in the tank to maintain a sub-9:00/mile pace for the remainder of the run, but it was not to be. I could feel myself slowing down with every step once I passed the 16 mile mark. I thought, Just put one foot in front of the other. Don't stop. Whatever you do, do not stop to walk because it will be impossible to get going again. I slogged onward, and at one point right around the 17 mile mark with only a mile left to go I almost stopped. I actually slowed to a walk for one stride and then spoke sharply out loud to myself: "NO!" I kept going, and ran all the way to the end. By the time I finished just after 10:00 the humidity had dropped to 70% but the temperature had risen to 78 degrees. It was very uncomfortable. Despite hitting the wall I successfully achieved my goal of a negative split, averaging 8:52/mile for the second 9 miles. Back at our meeting spot I downed some watermelon and chocolate-covered pretzel balls and then walked home.

My day was not yet finished, however, for at 12:30 pm I was toeing the line at the start of the second annual Run for the Rolls 1-mile road race. We did this race last year and had remarkable success as a family. This year I was determined to improve over my age group-winning time of 7:52. I knew that on a normal day I would have no trouble managing at least 7:00 flat if not a sub-7:00 time. This was not a normal day. I had already run 18 miles that morning. I did the best I could for recovery in the two and a half hours between runs, sitting in a cold water bath, popping an ibuprofen pill, drinking lots of water, downing an apple fritter from Pierce's Pastries, smearing pain relief gel all over my legs, stretching, lying down for a little while. Ready or not, the race was at 12:30 and there I was, trying to shake out the soreness as I lined up with my competitors.

When the horn sounded I took off as fast as I dared. The shirtless high school cross country runner trio sprinted off to the front and I gamely followed. We turned the corner and headed down the long straight stretch of Main St. Spectators were out in force because the Chelsea Community Fair parade was scheduled to start at 1:00, so crowd support was awesome (even if they were really there to watch the parade). I saw two adolescent girls in front of me but I could already tell they had gone out too fast and I would have no trouble reeling them in. Indeed, I passed the first one before we had gone a quarter of a mile and the second around the half mile mark. There were no other women in front of me. This was a novel experience. I knew if I could hang on I had a very good shot at winning the female race. If I hadn't been so exhausted yet focused I would have waved at the people shouting, "Hey, first girl! Go, go, go! You rock!" and other such stuff. The second and last corner came about 200 meters before the finish and I rounded that curve and poured everything I had into finishing strong. I didn't dare look over my shoulder. When I crossed the finish line I had nothing left.

I had done it, though: 6:48, my fastest mile split ever, and good enough for first place in the women's race! I got a certificate for a dozen rolls from the Common Grill--an improvement over last year's half-dozen-- and an awesome tile with a stand. James finished second in his age group (out of 19) with a 7:06 time and got a certificate for one of the ice cream stores in town.

Just before dinner James and I walked up to the Common Grill and I redeemed my certificate for 12 rolls fresh from the oven. Nothing like the spoils of victory!

The "posed" picture.

The "gazing into the distance" picture.

James and I with our awards.

At the takeout counter at the Common Grill.

A dozen rolls for our dinner!

On the way home

Summer vegetable gratin, slab of beef, and the best rolls on earth.

A Tale of Two Summers

I've been a little down about my weight loss progress lately. I have plateaued in a big way and my low weight milestone was back in early June. Since I started training for the marathon it's all gone to hell in a handbasket and I've pretty much given up on trying to reach my goal weight until the marathon is over. I need to eat to fuel my training and eating is not synonymous with weight loss. If I cut back on the calories I feel like my body is devouring itself for fuel and my running suffers.

Recently we went to the NASCAR race at Michigan International Speedway. This is something we do every year except last year the race was rained out. Thus I had not been to a race since August 2006, about one week before I joined Weight Watchers. Comparing pictures from each summer-- separated by exactly two years-- reminded me that despite my current stagnation, I have indeed come a long, long way. I have nothing to be upset about.

Before: August 2006

After: August 2008

The Middle Of Somewhere

Today's post is intended to act as my contribution to the Runners' Lounge Take It And Run Thursday: Middle Miles.

I am now squarely in the middle of my training schedule for the Detroit Marathon. 9 weeks have elapsed since I took my first steps towards becoming a marathoner and I have 8 weeks to go until I can finally say that with certainty. (I refuse to say "I am a marathon runner" until I've completed the race. Because until I cross that finish line...I am not.)

I'll be honest: it's starting to wear on me. I haven't reached a point where I slip on my running shoes with a grinding feeling of dread like I'm about to set out on the Bataan Death March, but there are days when I would much rather just not run.

I felt like that this morning when the alarm went off in the pitch blackness of 5:30 and I slid out of bed with a groan. Multiple days of late-night Olympics watching plus a post-Demolition Derby trip with friends to a local watering hole and two pints of Bell's Two-Hearted Ale does not for an easy rise make. By the time I left the house at 5:50 the first glow of sunrise was visible on the horizon. I peeled off a couple of miles and hit the cemetery driveway going east, facing a sky colored a startling red. Red sky at night, sailor's delight; red sky in the morning, sailor take warning, I thought. I wonder if it will rain later? The driveway, hemmed in by thick woods, is always darker than any surrounding road, and this morning was no exception. The faintest shimmer of silvery blue reflected off the drive, showing me the way, and the air creeping in from the swamp was exquisitely cool and moist. The stillness was palpable. I breathed deeply, savoring it. My fuzzy head cleared, my leaden legs awakened. Two more miles and I was at the head of a mile-long stretch of gravel road, the sunrise now well under way and the lurid red of 20 minutes earlier had yielded to a sweet, subdued yellow streaked with clouds. Rabbits grazed on the berm and blankets of mist lay low over the grasslands. Not another soul was stirring. I thought, clearly: Why do I complain about this? I love doing this. Look around. It's beautiful out here. I would never see these things otherwise. I never did see these things until I started running. And now look. I'm running eight miles before most people even get up. 2 years ago I couldn't even run a half mile without feeling like I was going to pass out. I've come so far. I'm going to run a marathon, for pete's sake...

I lifted my gaze from its customary spot about 15 feet in front of me and really looked into the distance. The next intersection was about a half mile away. I kept my eyes on the stop sign as it grew from a red dot into life-size.

My goal-- the marathon-- is in front of me, not yet full-sized, but I can at least see it. Each day, each mile brings me closer.

I reached the stop sign and turned left.

Stop? No.

I would rather keep going.

Mixed Bag

I rarely cut scheduled runs short but this morning's 8-miler just. wasn't. happening. Not because I was lacking in energy; both the spirit and the muscles were willing. My insides...well, they had other ideas. Everything was on some kind of express train to hell whose rails were greased with the post-NASCAR pizza I ate Sunday night. I guess this is what I get for eating a low-fat, nongreasy diet almost all of the time. When I do fall off the wagon I pay the price. Today's casualty: one pair of underwear. I just couldn't sprint for the port-a-potty fast enough. Disaster, people. Disaster. After I made the best of that situation (ha) I decided I had had enough for one morning. I crashed through the weeds between the high school's athletic fields (site of one of my emergency port-a-potties) and the road I had been running on and when I burst out onto the road there was someone else there running. I was a little startled so I kind of yelled "Morning!" Imagine my extreme surprise when my fellow runner asked, "Are you Sarah?" I said, "Yes, how did you know that?" and then he said he reads this blog! I was just totally blown away. I was "recognized," ha ha. It must be my silly (but totally awesome) headbands. I have one on in every single picture I've posted since the beginning of the year. Anyway, we ran along for a while until I went one way to go home and he went another. I ended up doing a little over 6 miles so it wasn't a total loss (unlike my poor undies).

So I lost an item of clothing but met a fellow runner. Now, if only I could get my car back (it's in the shop) all would be right with the world.

In other news, this is a week filled with redneck activities (I'm a closet redneck...surprise!) as I attended the NASCAR race at Michigan International Speedway on Sunday and this week it's all about Demolition Derby and the truck pull at the Chelsea Community Fair. Tonight John's workplace is running their Derby entry so we're all going in matching T-shirts to sit in the bleachers and cheer on the driver. I'm sure an elephant ear will be involved.

Boggle

During my Internet wanderings recently I came across this. First of all this guy ran the freaking Boston Marathon as a bandit. Secondly, he never ran more than 5 miles at one time while "training."

But as a Boston native, I know that even if you aren't invited you can still crash the party. You see, locals know it is a big race, and since amateur participants aren't allowed to be "officially in", they have formed a large group of "bandit" runners. Bandits start at the back and run the course. The estimated number of bandits is between 5,000-10,000. This is a large group. (But that doesn't make it right. And is this even true? Nitmos? You were there, what say you?)

I am no athlete and I hardly had time to complete an elaborate training regimen. I got as fit as possible within the boundaries of my life and schedule. I also bought a plane ticket to Boston and ate some pizza on the night before the race. That was my training...

Let's go back to the race. It is mile 13 and some change, the halfway point. I have never run more than 5 miles continuously in my life, but today I have made it 13...

Blah blah blah, and he finished in 5:52. OK. Bully for him that he ran a marathon. Or I should say "ran the marathon distance." But, seriously? Never having run more than 5 miles at once? I can't help but feel like that's a total slap in the face to me and my fellow runners who are all slaving away at our "elaborate training regimens" in order to prepare for our various races this fall. Shit, people, if I knew I could complete my upcoming marathon running no more than 5 miles at a time, and sporadically at that, why didn't y'all tell me? What the hell am I doing getting up at 5:30 am to run five days a week, putting in 40-plus miles per week at this point, while somehow also managing to work 40 hours a week? Well, shit, I guess I can just stop all this madness and throw my training schedule in the recycling bin!* I'll just run whenever and however far I feel like and call it good. I can't believe I've been wasting my time with this silly "training regimen" thing. Might as well bag my 14-miler tomorrow, eh? Why should I do that when I could arise at the luxurious time of 8:00 am (or even 8:30--gasp) and have a leisurely breakfast and coffee on the front porch while reading the paper in my pajamas, totally unsweaty and uncrustified for once?

I'm "no athlete" either, but I'm at least TRYING REALLY HARD TO BE ONE, hence my, you know, TRAINING SCHEDULE.

Can y'all tell I'm a little peeved?

*note my level of environmental consciousness.

I Got me Some Good Genes

The coolest thing just happened. I was procuring my morning tank of coffee and a woman I didn't know said, "Are you a runner or a tennis player?"

"A runner," I replied.

"You have awesome legs...I would kill to have those calves. Even when I was running and playing tennis I never had calves like that."

Me, kind of embarrassed and flattered at the same time: "Well, thank you! Heh heh...I've always had big calf muscles."

"I think you just have to be in the right gene pool."

"I inherited my dad's muscles," I said. This is true. My legs are almost identical to my dad's (a little less hairy, though).

Oh, and the reason my awesome gams were on display for all to see...well, I'm wearing kind of a short skirt today. Heck, I figure I've worked so darn hard for these strong legs I deserve to show them off occasionally. Or pretty much all the time (I love summer).

Confidence: High(er)

After my 14-mile run on July 19 I was sure I would never be able to run an additional 12 miles to finish a marathon.

After my 14-mile run on August 2 I am sure I will be able to run those additional 12 miles and successfully complete my first marathon.

I never thought I would reach a point where I would classify running 14 miles at once as "fun" and "enjoyable" and "not that bad, really," but there it is.

We set out around 7:40 am Saturday; me on foot and John on bike as my Personal Support Crew. Water, Ultima, and Gu were on board along with a bag of toilet paper (just in case). It was a lovely morning, cool and dry with occasional cloud cover. Traffic was light as it usually is out in the country. I started off with a 9:17 first mile; it would be my slowest mile of the run but I did not know that. As the miles slipped past I felt better and better. They ticked off one by one: 9:09, 9:03, 9:03, 9:07, 9:03, 8:56, 8:56, 9:02, 8:49, 8:59, 8:55, 8:43, 9:02. See that? I ran the second seven miles faster than the first. And what is up with that 8:43 13th mile? I should have been totally dead! OK, it might have had something to do with my desperate dash for the Port-A-Potty in the cemetery. And look: my time for the "half marathon"-- 1:57:53-- is only slightly more than a minute slower than my time for the Historic Half from May. I ran another sub-2 hour half and I didn't even intend to. I did the distance at an average pace of exactly 9:00/mile.

We finished, I stretched, I ate protein, I rehydrated, I cleaned up, and then we went to B. Nektar Meadery in Ferndale to participate in National Mead Day. We came home with four bottles of mead and then, finally, those 14 miles caught up with me and I just crashed like a ton of bricks. Somewhere in there I came to the realization that I will be able to finish this marathon. I felt great Saturday. Really, spectacularly great, better than a person should during and after a 14-mile run. My legs weren't even sore, not one tiny bit.

I will be able to do this.

My route on Saturday:

The big green oval blob at right center is Four Mile Lake. The line bisecting the loop is the Detroit-Chicago railroad which is parallelled by Dexter-Chelsea Rd. My "half marathon" was in the cemetery. Yes, it is mostly farmland. Yes, it is flat. It is wonderful.

Oh, And By The Way...

Lest ye think that my last post was really about the worst of the not-so-great ideas I have had (and I alluded to this briefly in said post) this was to be my backup post:

I wouldn't say it was my best idea, deciding to run a marathon...what has it gotten me so far? Let's see. This morning I was out the door at 5:44 am BEFORE THE BIRDS OF THE DAWN WERE EVEN CHIRPING, OK? The stoplight was still on FLASH FLASH FLASH mode. I was staring eight miles in the face in fucking 80% humidity and it was dark and I was terribly CRABBY after having gotten like three hours of sleep because I was tending to a dog who spent most of the night BARFING for no reason I could discern and it was so HOT in my house despite the A/C being cranked on full blast and I know my cat loves me but jeez he can get kind of hot and scratchy lying against my arm all night like that and my left calf muscle was bothering me and my right tibia is STILL not 100% with the goddamn program and I have ten more weeks of these Wednesday-Thursday eight mile runs at the hairy ass crack of dawn and I'm hungry all the time and I ran fucking 33 miles or something last week and that's just the beginning and I feel SLOW and FAT and LAZY and do I really? REALLY? have almost three more months of this before it's all finally fucking over and let's just say I've had myself one powerful gin smash at this time (and maybe more, who knows, or perhaps I might bust out the wine). And now I need to go shopping for goat cheese for my roasted beet salad which I am making for myself for dinner. Because my business wasn't colorful enough already, you know? There's nothing like turning the toilet bowl water magenta like Easter egg dye! Fun, fun, fun!

Yes, deciding to train for a marathon...well...I'm starting to wonder. Is it really that important to be one of that mythical "one tenth of one percent" of people on this earth who complete a marathon? My last post was all about trying to stand out, to be special, and failing miserably. Do you think I can finally do so with this endeavor? Is it worth it? IS IT?

OK. Goat cheese and soy milk time.

Writing Prompt: I Wouldn't Say It Was My Best Idea...

The blogosphere is wide, and I do read non-running-centric blogs (gasp!) including one of a lovely lady I know IRL who inspired me to lose weight and start running in the first place and last week she came up with the idea of a weekly writing prompt to help those of us who are sometimes less than inspired to come up with something fabulous to write about. So this week's idea, courtesy of She Likes Purple, is "I Wouldn't Say It Was My Best Idea..."

I wouldn't say it was my best idea. In fact, it was probably the worst idea I have ever had. No, wait. It was probably one of the worst ideas ever put forth in the history of the world.

In sixth grade, I decided I could finally become popular if I did something so outrageous, so unlike my quiet, bookish persona (not a winning combination in the rapidly developing world of adolescent cliques) that the popular kids (including the boy on whom I had a huge crush) would have to notice me.

What was it, dear readers? What grand idea could I possibly have come up with that I would now call the worst idea of my entire life (and yes, that does include my current crazy notion that I might, just might, be able to pull off completing a marathon)?

I gave our teacher rabbit ears behind her head.

In the official class photograph.

The one that was going to be sent to every member of my class and from there to countless grandparents not only in the San Francisco Bay Area but all across the country. (Dis)gracing bookshelves and refrigerators from coast to coast.

I was perfectly positioned in the row directly behind my teacher, who was seated in the front. I was slightly to the side of her right shoulder. I was primed. I was ready. This was going to make me the most famous sixth-grader in all of Loyola Elementary School's class of 1986. Maybe of all time. In 1990 (such a far-off, distant year...) people would still be talking about me, the wacky, wild, and wonderful girl who gave Ms. K the ol' rabbit ears in the class photo.

Word had been leaked. My classmates were edgy, glancing at me, muttering. Would I have the guts to pull off such a stunt? Me, who read so many books in fourth grade my teacher had to add an extra sheet of paper to contain all of the stars (one for each book) piling up next to my name? Me, who was one of only two girls in the GATE (Gifted and Talented Education) program for my grade that year? Me, the dork extraordinaire?

My reputation as a nerd was on the line: it might come to an end that day. The photographer readied his equipment and called out, "Say cheese!" My left hand shot out and forked open right behind my teacher's head. It was done. I had done it. I was ready to receive my reward. Popularity, here I come!

Except...my classmates were shaking their heads, whispering, "I can't believe she did that," and not in a good way. My stomach flipped over. What had I just done? Oh my God...the picture was going to be ruined...everyone was going to see. There was no way to hide it. I had been right behind her. What on earth had I been thinking?!

But wait! What was this? A commotion at the photographer's station. "We're going to have to take the picture again. The word 'school' was misspelled in the picture placard."

Holy shit. One of my classmates had misspelled the word school in the little square placard my teacher had been holding. Loyola Elementary Scholl, Ms. K., 1986.

Thank God for poor spellers. I had been rescued from a horrible death in the flames of adolescent embarrassment! When the picture was taken for the second time, I did not repeat my mistake. I kept my hands firmly behind my back and the resulting picture, the one that still resides in my school scrapbook, shows nothing out of the ordinary (if one doesn't count the terrible mid-80s fashions).

We filed down from the risers and lined up against the wall of the multipurpose room for individual pictures. I busied myself with my black plastic comb (the one which said "Unbreakable" on its side) and exhaled a deep sigh of relief that the incident had passed unnoticed by my teacher. I decided that was to be the end of my attempt to become popular. Crazy antics were just not my forté. I would leave the classroom shenanigans to someone with an already-established reputation as a class clown and general fuckup; there were a few in my class who filled that role nicely.

Suddenly my teacher was standing in front of me. We were almost at eye level; I was a tall kid and she a petite woman. Her face was grim. "Sarah. Did you put a 'V' behind my head in the picture?"

Every single one of my classmates' heads whipped around, every pair of eyes rested on me. I felt like I was going to pass out. There was a roaring in my ears. I silently wished the linoleum-tiled floor of the multipurpose room would open up and swallow me (this being northern California and mere miles away from the San Andreas Fault, this was not as far-fetched a possibility as you might think). I wanted to disappear off the face of the earth. I wanted the accusing stares and snickering to stop and my teacher's furious face to vanish.

My teacher's voice cut through my desperate daydream: "DID YOU or did you not give me RABBIT EARS in the picture?"

Oh, dear readers, you might have thought that my original idea was not my best idea. What came out of my mouth next was the product of an even worse idea. I decided I had to lie. Why? I don't know. I was so embarrassed, so humiliated. In a tiny voice, I whispered, "No." My teacher straightened up, glaring at me. I think she knew I was lying. She had to know I was lying. My face was burning. I stared at the floor, looking for signs of the giant crack which would shortly be taking me away forever. My teacher didn't press me. She didn't point at me and yell, "Liar!" She didn't say anything, just walked away. I got my individual picture taken without incident. My classmates found other things to discuss. In my photo I am still a homely, crooked-toothed, skinny girl with a bad bowl haircut and an ugly magenta splatter-paint dress. Look at me. There was no way I was ever going to be popular. Not in a million years. No nutty antics would ever change that (well, not until I got braces, grew up, went to graduate school, and discovered beer, but that's for another time).

As for the cute boy who was the object of my (and many of my female classmates') affection that year, the one whom I set out to impress with my grand idea in the first place? That's the best part...he grew up and became this.

I never had a chance.

The Six Word Race Report Challenge

Edited to add: Boy, the Six-Word Running Memoir certainly has taken on a life of its own! Now it's part of Runners' Lounge Take It And Run Thursday.

TK over at Pigtails Flying issued a challenge to her readers to come up with a six-word race report in the vein of Not Quite What I Was Planning. I was only supposed to write one in the comments, but I got rolling and couldn't stop...

(I'm only posting them here because TK said I had to and I can't say no to a fellow runner! (especially one as awesome as she))

(Also, yes, I know this is the second post in a row for which the idea thereof was stolen from someone else. I clearly don't have an original thought in my head.)

Dexter-Ann Arbor 10K and A Most Excellent Race 5K: “Personal records fueled by alcoholic beverages.”

Marine Corps Historic Half Marathon:
“Seven hour drive, sub 2-hour PR!”

Ann Arbor Turkey Trot 5K:
“32:58 in 2006, 25:01 in 2007.”

Run For The Rolls 1-Mile:
“Won age group, six delicious rolls!”

Big House Big Heart 5K:
“Finish inside Michigan Stadium? I’M THERE!”

Meteor 10K:
“First 10K race means automatic PR.”

Shamrocks and Shenanigans 5K:
“Broke high school PR. I ROCK!”

I could also have said of this race: "Free beer glasses at finish: awesome!"

Detroit Half Marathon 2007:
“First half marathon. I did it.”

I imagine my six-word race report for the Detroit Marathon (which hasn't happened yet) will be something like "What the hell was I thinking?"

Fatigue, Smells, Camp, And Other Things

Taking my cue from Nitmos, this is a post containing a jumble of things, not all of them running-related.

What Am I, 6 Years Old?: 9.5 miles of running on Tuesday plus 7 miles of running on Wednesday equals my going to bed at 8:30 last night. I think this is called "overtraining." What can I say, during hill work on Tuesday evening I made an effort to stick with the guys in my group on the second loop. I ended up running a 7:45 mile (and yes, I was ahead of them or right on their heels the entire time. Ha!). After crashing like a tired toddler after dinner yesterday (a situation not helped by the two pints of Bell's Two-Hearted Ale I consumed with my hamburger) I decided to dial back on my run this morning, which I did, but in mileage only. I ended up running four miles at an 8:18 pace.

Weird Smells: Why is it that every time I go to the bathroom at work I come in after someone who apparently ate nothing but beans, sauerkraut, and spicy food for the past three days? Phew.

The Worst Week Of My Life: Unlike Laura, who had a fantastic time at her running camp, the week I spent at running camp my sophomore year of high school was by far the most horrible seven days of my entire life. I actually got sick because the "nutrition" we were given (I still shudder when I think about the slimy, gelatinous Borg Cube of...some pale, flabby, and tasteless foodlike substance....that caused me to run for the bathroom and puke during breakfast) was woefully inadequate fuel for the amount of running we were doing. I'm surprised I didn't get a stress fracture, either. I would not hesitate to say that it was even worse than my first week following my tonsillectomy when I was 24. Yes, recovering from oral surgery was more pleasant than my week at running camp. Two years later I went to what I affectionately call "nerd camp" and had a much better time.

Beer, Beer, Everywhere: Friday (that would be TOMORROW) I have the good fortune to be attending the Michigan Brewers' Guild Summer Beer Festival in Ypsilanti. Certain person(s), commence feeling envious.

Hail to the Victors: I registered for the Big House Big Heart 5K again! This is the race which finishes on the 50-yard line inside Michigan Stadium. People who have been with me on this blog for a long time will recall that I ran this race last year and had a wonderful time.

Hooray for Small Towns: This weekend is the Chelsea Summer Fest. Saturday some friends are coming over and we're going to attend one of the music concerts and then eat lots of grilled foods and drink beer on our deck. Summer rocks!

I Listen To More Obscure Music Than You: Please to be checking out Anna Ternheim and A Shoreline Dream (thanks to my most recent Paste Magazine Sampler CD).

Isn't It Ironic

Large banner on church lawn at top of Broadway St. hill in Ann Arbor, which also happened to be the seven-mile turnaround point for those of us doing a 14-mile run this morning:

"TORTURE IS WRONG."

14 miles (new distance record!)
2:14:18
9:35/mile
Humidity: approximately 85%
Sweatiness: outrageous
Fatigue level upon returning home: high
Sense of accomplishment: good
Sense of dread in the vein of "I have to run 12 more miles for the marathon? There's no way!": very high
Post-run rehydration: Erie Brewing Company Misery Bay IPA

Embarrassing Secrets

We're on some network down time 'round the cube farm, and I don't have anything better to do at the moment.

Thus, I challenge my regular and not so regular readers/commenters to 'fess up as to their favorite guilty pleasure TV show (if you have one, that is). To set the mood, I'm about to do the same and bare my seedy (seamy?) underbelly. Here goes.

I watch Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making The Team.

There. I said it. It's out there. *sigh* What a weight off my shoulders!

Edited to add: I guess I should be embarrassed that I can't spell "embarrassing"(it's fixed now).

8 Before 8

This morning I did the first of what will be many 8-mile runs before work. I got up at 5:35 which is insanely early for me and was on the road before 6:00. I have to say, it was rather nice being out and about so early. The temperature was very agreeable, unlike this afternoon's projected high of 92 degrees. The roads were mostly empty. The birds were in full morning voice and I even passed a house with a rooster somewhere in the back that was crowing frantically. In order to squeeze in my 8 miles I had to come up with a new route around town, so I swung out into the country past the high school, through a couple of subdivisions, and then back onto my normal path through the cemetery and past the Jiffy Mix plant. It was no trouble at all and I even got a short cooldown walk at the end. I am pleased with my new route and I will be happily doing it many times over the next two months.

8 miles
1:13:42
9:13/mile

In other news, yesterday I had the opportunity to meet the fabulous TK in person. She's in Ann Arbor on business and we managed to meet up at a local hotspot for drinks and dinner. I am perpetually amazed at the way the Internet has brought into my life people whom I would otherwise never have known. I have made several good friends in this area that I met online. I think the Internet was the best thing to ever happen to a somewhat antisocial introvert like me who has difficulty making friends. I wish TK and I could have gone for a run together but it just wasn't meant to be this time...though we've already discussed how and when we will see each other next!

Vacation Brain

You know your mind is still on vacation when you go to the gym and forget your towel and are forced to dry off post-shower with many cheap, rapidly-disintegrating paper towels and one's semi-gross gym shorts instead.

The words "pat dry" have new meaning for me now.

I Am Every Runner

I could be anyone...I could be everyone...

Yes, folks, I am back from vacation, where I had myself a goodly number of runs including a very nice 12-miler on Friday during which I was the recipient of some saved-up karma or something in the form of a public Port-A-Potty at the precise moment when I was in dire need of such a thing.

The universe is just.

Oh, and y'all are truly prodigious bloggers. I have over 100 running blog posts to wade through today on Google Reader! Jeez, people, don't you ever take any time off?

Wait...HEY!

I Feel Like A Rabbit

Over the coming week I have to eat all of this:

This is one week's worth of vegetables from my CSA farm share. It's actually quite fabulous.

In other news, after undergoing the strength drill workout from heck last night as part of marathon training class, my quads and butt are scuh-REAMING in pain today. I thought I was in shape! HA!

Race Report: A Most Excellent Race (No, Really)

As we were visiting my parents in Ohio this weekend, I took a look at the local race offerings for something close by in which I could participate. I found A Most Excellent Race 5K which was being held at Beaumont School in Cleveland Heights about 25 minutes away. This morning I headed out around 7:45, arrived at the race venue, picked up my packet, and did a warm-up jog. The race started just after 9:00 with a decent crowd of runners. I settled into what I felt was a good cruising pace and let the gradual downhill on Fairmount Blvd lead me to a 6:55 first mile. I hit mile 2 at 13:54 (I think...I wish I had been paying closer attention) which would have made it a 6:59 pace and then the third mile turned back onto North Park Blvd and was one long, gradual uphill that totally killed me. I was really struggling, and thought well, there goes my chance at a PR and my stomach was roiling uncomfortably and I was breathing like a steam engine but I passed the mile 3 mark at 20:00 and change and then I brightened up and thought, let's kick this thing, girl. I knew if I really dug in I would be able to set a new PR. Uphill finish? Phooey! I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other just a little faster. As I approached the finish line I could see the timing clock was still in the 22:00 range. I wrung every last drop of energy I had out of myself even to the point of an involuntary groan of agony and finished in 22:44. I pulled over to the grass and bent over with my hands on my knees, utterly spent. I couldn't even move for about 30 seconds. I turned in my timing chip and got some food and water and did a cool-down jog. At 10:45 the awards ceremony got under way. I decided to hang around because I thought my performance might have netted me an age group award. I was not mistaken; when they announced the 30-34 group I took first place. I won a tote bag!

I hopped online when we got back to Michigan and looked up the race results. I finished first out of 13 in my age group and fifth out of 83 women. And not only that, but I set a new PR by 35 seconds!

This also means I shaved my 5K Stubble Time in the Shave Your 5K Challenge put on by Vanilla from Half-Fast. Edited to add: Well, I just reread the official rules for the challenge and my "smooth time" has to be from a 5K race held during November or December of this year. I guess that means I still have some work to do.

Final stats:
22:44
7:18/mile
1/13 age group
5/83 women
PR by 35 seconds

On My Mind

Remember this? I certainly do. I've had the lottery date emblazoned on my brain for the past six months, waiting, impatiently, as the days crawled by. Then today I got this email:

Dear Bridge Run Lottery Registrant-

Thank you for registering for the 2008 Mackinac Bridge Labor Day Run! As you may know, only 300 runners will be selected to participate in what many people have called “an experience of a lifetime.” Those selected for the event will have the opportunity to kick off all Labor Day festivities at the Mackinac Bridge.

Participants are selected through a lottery drawing which will be held on Thursday, June 26. Those selected will receive notification via U.S. mail service. If you do not receive notification by Thursday, July 17, you have unfortunately not been selected for the run this year. We encourage all those who are not selected to apply again the following year. Please call 1-800-434-8642 with any questions regarding the Bridge Run. Thank you for your registration!

Only one week until the drawing!

I would seriously, like, wet myself if I got picked.

Get Ready...And We're Off!

This morning I did the first of many, many, many marathon training runs to come over the next four months.

No turning back now!

I also attended my first Running Fit 501 session last night during which I ran a two-mile time trial. I hammered it and put up two 7:12 miles for a total of 14:24. That was a mite faster than I expected but that performance bolstered my hopes for a new 5K PR (and the shaving of my 5K Stubble Time) at a race I will be doing this coming Sunday in Cleveland Heights, Ohio.

Finally, everyone visit Viper my fellow drinker with a running problem and wish him good luck on his Towpath Trail Summer Solstice Challenge, aka the "I think you're nuts but whatever floats your boat" run.

Speaking of Missed Opportunities...

Perusing the weekend's race results in Michigan (how lame is that?) I discovered a race I didn't even know existed took place on Saturday. There was no way I could have attended (opera performance) but I AM SO THERE NEXT YEAR. A single event that combines two of my favorite things in life? It doesn't get any better than that.

Missed Opportunity

Yesterday morning was the PHP Rose Run in Jackson. I did the 5K race last year, when I was still a running newbie, and finished fifth in my age group with a time of 27:39. At the time this was a huge accomplishment.

PHP Rose Run, June 9, 2007.

Needless to say in the subsequent year I have improved greatly. Why, just a couple of weeks ago I ran a 24:02 5K as a regular morning run. I knew the Rose Run was coming up again, and I mulled over whether or not to enter. Unfortunately a bunch of things converging at once made me realize it was probably not practical, so I stayed home and did a quick run around town instead.

I checked the race results today and discovered that the winning time for my age group was 25:30. DAMN! I totally could have taken first in my age group given my recent speediness.

Oh well...maybe next year. Now I have to leave for my last opera performance *sniff*. That has been so much fun.

Dexter-Ann Arbor Run Pictures

Since my Official Photographer/Gear Wrangler was out of town when I ran the Dexter-Ann Arbor Run two weeks ago, I caved and bought some pictures of myself ($80 for three digital picture files? Highway robbery, I say! But I bought them anyway).

Somewhere around mile 3, I think, on Huron River Drive.

The typical finish pose of many a runner. Make sure to hit that stopwatch as you cross the finish line!

I like this one the best. I look like a Real Runner. Now, if only the time on the clock over my head started with a "4" instead of a "5"...recall, dear readers, that my official finish time was 50:00 on the dot.

A Proud Moment

At weigh-in on Tuesday there was a new receptionist. I stepped up to her station and onto the scale. This was a good week; I lost another 3.2 lbs (I blame vegetables) and am finally back to where I was pre-half marathon. She looked at my weigh-in card and said, "Do you have a weight goal yet? You're inside our [Weight Watchers'] weight range for your height."

"Well, I think I want to lose a total of 75 pounds, which would put me at 143. I'm getting really close." (true: only 10 more pounds to go!)

"Wow...I mean, how have you done it? I mean, what's keeping you motivated?"

HERE IT COMES

WAIT FOR IT

I FINALLY GOT TO SAY IT!

"I'm a long-distance runner."

YEAH!