Run For the Rolls Redux

Ah, the Run for the Rolls. I love it so. What could be better than a one-mile sprint through my town with the promise of a bag full of delicious rolls as a prize? I have run this race since its inception in 2007 and last year I won the women's race in a then-personal-record time of 6:48.

I have been struggling since returning from vacation to recapture my running mojo, which seemed to be receding further into the horizon as I ran after it in vain. I forced myself out the door after work Wednesday for a brisk 5K through town which raised my spirits somewhat. Thursday I was the one doing the raising of the spirits as I joined 35 fellow runners on a 10K pub "crawl" run in Royal Oak and Ferndale. 6.2 miles, 6 different venues, and a lot of beer. It was fabulous!

At the Royal Oak Brewery with my Michigan Cherry Ale. The first of many stops...

At Memphis Smoke Blues & BBQ in Royal Oak, our last stop. NO, I am not hanging on to that pole to keep from falling over!

The pub run did much to kick me out of my torpor since my trip. I was doing entirely too much moping and sighing and not running. The realization that the NYC Marathon is nine weeks from tomorrow also sent me into a bit of a panic and I knew the time for wallowing in post-vacation melancholy was over. I had to get my lazy butt back on track.

Thus, this morning I joined my RF501 group for my long run for the first time since July 25. I had 12 miles on tap (ha ha) and I wanted it to be a quality run. I settled into a steady groove and did the first six miles at an 8:55 average pace. After doubling back I decided to step it up, and did the last six miles at an 8:18 pace, including the last two miles at 7:57 and 7:52. I felt fantastic; all the lingering funk was swept away.

I had enough time to come home, have breakfast and coffee, watch some TV, and putter around the house a bit before walking to the start of the Run for the Rolls. Last year I pulled out a great time after running 18 miles in the morning. Today I had only run 12; could I better my time from last year? I wasn't expecting much, however, since my speed work has fallen off a cliff and I haven't done a circuit on the Oval of Doom since July 28. Oh well, just give it my best shot and see what happens. It's only a mile. And then I was off...running hard and fast. I felt okay, though. I was exerting myself, but I settled into a steady beat and pumped my arms and let the slight downhill on Main St. carry me along. Soon enough I made the turn for the homestretch and kicked it into a higher gear. The timing clock was obscured by something as I approached; I could see a "6" and nothing else. When I flashed past I saw it said "6:44." Holy shit! If that was true, I had just set a new mile PR. I knew I hadn't won the women's race because I could see three other women in front of me the whole way. However, I suspected I had a chance at an age group win and those sweet, sweet, delicious rolls. I waited around afterward, chatted with some fellow runners I know, and sure enough, I came away with the win in the 35-39 age group. My official time was indeed 6:44 (which was what Garmy had said, too). I was quite pleased.

I am now off to Ann Arbor for the long-awaited Great Lake Swimmers concert!

Vacation Pictures

These sum up my vacation nicely. Oh, what a vacation it was. Truly one for the ages.

Running.¹

Beer.²

Food.³

Friends.⁴

1: At the summit of Black Mountain in the Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve, Los Altos Hills. 8 miles of hard trail to the top, where a gorgeous view and awesome rocks awaited. And then 8 miles back to the parking lot...

2: Deschutes Brewery Mirror Pond Pale Ale.

3: Insalata caprese which I made for the fabulous all-farmers'-market dinner, which also included roasted Brussels sprouts, sauteed green beans and shallots, roasted new potatoes with fresh rosemary, and olive oil-brushed crostini.

4: Me and my friend Mr. E at the Pyramid Alehouse & Brewery in Sacramento on the last day of my trip.

SIGH....

That's all I have to say about my vacation coming to an end.

Regular programming will resume...eventually.

From the Shore of the Pacific

Hi folks,

I've been off the radar for a while. I'm currently on vacation; in fact, I'm writing this from my perch atop a beach towel on the sand overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Watsonville, California. I have been out here on my nostalgia tour for almost a week. I was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area and before this trip I had not visited my hometown in eight long years. I spent most of last week in Marin County at the luxurious Tiburon home of an old family friend. Friday I moved south to my childhood stomping grounds, the two towns where I grew up (Sunnyvale and Los Altos).

Yesterday morning I went out for a very long trail run in Los Altos with my running buddy (and trail ultrarunner extraordinaire) TC. He promised long ago to take me to the top of a mountain to look at the rocks exposed there which are serpentinite, remnants of ancient oceanic crust which have been shoved onto land. The Coast Range is riddled with these fragments. I could not resist the siren call of actual rocks, fantastic rocks, so I put myself through 8 miles of grinding uphill hell to reach the 2200-foot summit and the rock outcrop. TC had a laugh or ten at my expense as I dragged my non-hill-running butt up the terrible final mile of the trail. I found a little in reserve at the end as he taunted me, "You can throttle me if you can catch me!" Somehow I found it in me to get my feet moving again as I ran after him to the top. All was as advertised and made the grueling uphill climb worth it. The view was amazing; the whole of the peninsula and the bay spread out beneath me. To the west lay the Coast Range and beyond that the ocean, invisible. The rocks were there, odd jagged grayish shapes protruding from the ground. I took a sample which is destined for my special collection at home. A few minutes, a few pictures, and then the dash back down the mountain. 16 miles, 3 hours, a run months in the making. Thanks, TC.

Despite some lingering fatigue I was up early again this morning to drive into the Santa Cruz Mountains for the Race Thru the Redwoods 10K. I picked this race out months ago and I wasn't going to miss it, hard trail run the day before or nearby forest fire be damned! I knew this was not a day for any record-breaking efforts. I just wanted to enjoy myself. The race was held at a state park thick with redwood trees (hence the name). It was primarily trail. Beautiful trail. With one crazy awful hill easily comparable to the worst of what I ran yesterday. I had to stop and walk. Once the hill had been crested shortly after mile 3, my legs felt like rubber and I still had half of the race to go. I pressed on, and after mile 4 the course went downhill for almost a mile. I let my legs whip out behind me as I flew down the slope. Flying! I was skimming the ground! Suddenly I felt a needlelike pain stab into the skin on my left tricep. "Ouch!" I cried as I swept my right hand back and across my arm, coming away with a hornet! I cast the offending insect to the ground as fire slowly took hold of my arm. Spurred on by pain and anger, I ran even faster, almost reckless in my dash downhill. A couple of times I felt my knees begin to buckle under the pounding; a failure at that point would have been a disaster. I kept my footing, though, and zoomed past mile 5. One more mile and I was feeling more energetic than I had for the entire race up to that point. I cruised through mile 6 and with only the last 0.2 left I slid into machine mode, that lovely zone where I feel as if I could run forever. Why now, when I only had a tiny slice of race left? Oh well, just go with it. I finished in 57:29, ten minutes off my 10K PR, but I didn't care. I was there for the experience.

After the race I drove down to Santa Cruz and then continued south to one of the state beaches. I have been sitting here listening to the waves and smelling the briny air for a couple of hours, hoping the sun will burn through the fog and I can get some serious sun baking done. I didn't come all this way to hide my hot pink bikini under a t shirt! The sun is out now more than it has been all day; an actual shadow is visible on the sand under my trail dust-encrusted feet. Time to lie back and soak up some rays.

I'm alone but not lonely. I have visited friends, some new and some old; seen family; gone running in exotic, beautiful places; drunk and dined well (but not too well; I have lost 5 pounds!); and generally have been enjoying the heck out of everything. And I still have a week to go!

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Homer Hogstravaganza Road Hog 5K: Comeuppance

Yesterday I came home from work, executed a quick change of clothes, and headed out the door to drive 50 miles to run a 5K at 7:00 PM. Why? Because the name of the race promised to deliver one of the best race T-shirts ever and I had nothing better to do on a Friday evening. The T-shirt did not disappoint:

The race was part of the Homer Hogstravaganza, one of those small-town agriculturally-themed festivals which I am familiar with, having grown up in a place which has the Maple Festival every spring. I anticipated a small field with a large contingent of local high schoolers and I was exactly right.

I was out to improve upon my lackluster performance from Sunday's Lyn Yarows 5K. I rested Wednesday, had a good hill workout Thursday with the RF501 gang, and got a good night's sleep. I was ready. It was warmer than my preferred running weather: about 78 degrees. Nothing I could do about that, though. I did a ten-minute warm-up, felt limber and energetic, and wandered over to the start.

The field of 100 took off and I settled into what I felt to be a moderately fast yet not taxing pace. I refused to look at Garmy until mile 1, and when it beeped, I looked down and saw "7:19" which was a complete surprise. Last Sunday I felt like I was killing myself to run 7:45 for my first mile, and here I was strolling through a 7:19 mile. This was going to be a great race! I might even squeeze out a sub-24:00 time! I told myself to stay relaxed, even slow down a little, there was no need to overdo it, to hurt myself...

Um, yeah.

The trouble started not long after mile 1. I'd say about 1.25. It began as a whisper at the back of my knee, a strange tightness that quickly grew to a roar and then ripped up through my hamstring with a scream. Suddenly I was limping, favoring my leg, the pain with each step a knife stab through my muscle. I thought, what the hell is going on here? Not this again! It hasn't bothered me since Cleveland! And even then it wasn't this bad! I ran all those brutal intervals and tempo runs and hills last night and there was nothing, no twinge, no pain, nothing, what the hell?! I could do nothing but slow down, helpless, furious. For the first time ever in a race I debated stopping and walking. I knew that every step was doing damage, and the pain was unbelievable, but I'm not like that. For better, or frequently for worse, I'm too stubborn (colossally hard-headed) and determined to accept what is happening and do what is best for my body. I was going to fight with clenched teeth through this and finish the damn race without walking. My pace for mile 2 fell by a minute to 8:20, and the searing pain subsided to the point where I was able to speed up slightly. I found that if I ran faster, it hurt less, so I ran faster. I was somewhat cheered by the fact that I still had a lot of fuel left in the tank; my energy level was very high. If it wasn't for my goddamn leg...Soon enough, the finish was just ahead and I finished strong even though I was "duded" right at the line (but I chicked a couple of guys in the final tenth, so it all evens out).

I hobbled around, unable to make my leg do much of anything, grabbed a granola bar, and sank onto the grass with my legs splayed out in front of me. Ants crawled on me and something irritating and scratchy poked the backs of my legs but I didn't care. I just wanted the hurt to go away. I sat there as sweat ran from under the bottom of my Bondi Band into my lap and I chewed my granola bar and wondered for the tenth time what the hell was going on. I scrolled through the info on Garmy, noting that my average heart rate during mile 1 was only 155, a good sign that I was not overexerting myself even though my pace was substantially faster than anything I've done recently. I had done mile 3 in 8:06, which was pleasing. Final time was 24:45 according to the official results. I picked up another sweet age group win as well. Apart from the hamstring meltdown, it was an excellent evening.

Driving home was somewhat agonizing, because I had to use my left leg to work the clutch. Every lift of my leg and press of the pedal wrung a groan from my lips. I got home and fixed an ice pack and sat on the couch watching TV.

RICE without the C and E. But with TV and B¹.

I knew my long run this morning was out of the question. FK, TC, and JF all told me I better just chill and not do much of anything. TC scolded me the most: "You...you...you...YOU NEVER LISTEN! I TOLD you, you were overtraining and needed to rest! I told you so. What are the three things you need to get to the starting line of a marathon? Guts, training, and HEALTH." And so on. I got a 20-minute earful.

I know, I know. I was asking for it. I demanded too much of myself and I didn't give my muscles the rest they were clearly crying out for. And now look. Laid up on the couch with an ice pack. I was eating a cookie last night and it broke and scattered onto the kitchen floor and I just left the pieces there because I couldn't bear the thought of trying to bend or squat to clean them up. I can't even bend over to pick up a cat toy off the ground.

I hate being injured. I chafe and seethe at even one day of unscheduled inactivity. I feel like a complete failure, a slacker, shirking duty, I'm going to fall behind in my training, IT'S ALL OVER. Perhaps I exaggerate. NYC is exactly three months away, which is plenty of time to recuperate. I lost three full weeks of training for Cleveland because of ITBS and it wasn't the end of the world, obviously, since I rocked the marathon and qualified for Boston. My goal for NYC (just have fun!) isn't nearly that lofty, so being a slave to the schedule isn't as important this time. I have the mental fortitude to run a marathon, I can do the required training, but yes, TC, you're right, if I don't have my health it's all for naught.

On the other hand, sleeping in this morning instead of meeting the RF501 gang for the long run was ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC.

1: One guess what "B" stands for.

DirtDawg Does Cleveland!

I must give a special shout-out to DirtDawg, a fellow metro Detroit run-blogger who will take on the Burning River 100 (as in 100 miles!) starting tomorrow morning near my hometown in northeast Ohio. I have been listening to DirtDawg's podcast chronicling his training for Burning River from its beginning back in February, and I have been reading his blog for a couple of years. Last week I was pleased to finally meet DD and the rest of the Dawg family when they came all the way out to my part of the state to pick up some chickens from the amazing farm where I get a lot of my food. (Yes, the chickens are that good, good enough to drive an hour for.)

I wish DD all the best in the Burning River 100. If you're so inclined, drop by his blog or podcast page and wish him well as he embarks on this crazy adventure! He's going to run a HUNDRED MILES, PEOPLE!

I can't wait to hear the race report!

GOOD LUCK!

P.S. Tell Little Dirt Dawg that Darwin says "meow." :)

Lyn Yarows Memorial 5K: My Ass Is Grass

Smile! Running is FUN! (right?)

In order to complete my goal of "at least one race per month" in 2009, I had to find something to do, like, now, because July is fast approaching its end. With only one weekend left in the month, I scoured Run Michigan (my go-to race calendar) and found a local 5K race on Sunday, July 26. The race was being held only 15 minutes away from my house. Perfect! Even more attractive was the fact that it was a bonafide, honest-to-goodness cross-country race, something I haven't done since my high school days nigh on 18 years ago (yikes). How could I possibly resist?

Before the race.

So there I was at the starting line of this tiny little race at Hudson Mills Metropark in Dexter on Sunday morning. I was about to run the same 5K course the University of Michigan cross-country team uses. Katie McGregor ran here! A broad field of grass stretched in front of me. The starting line was painted white on the ground. I felt as if I were a teenager again, in a high school dual meet on some balmy Ohio September afternoon. There was no dramatic start, just a woman yelling "Runners, on your marks...get set...GO!"And we were off.

Charging along the grass after the start.

I had been feeling bogged down all week, and this day was no exception. I was struggling to keep my pace under 8:00/mile. I hit the first mile in 7:45, which was as fast as I would get. I don't know what made me feel as if I was wearing 20-pound shoes. I just didn't have it. My fleet feet of a week prior had flown away from me. The grass sucked at my shoes and every little incline drained more energy out of me. A cluster of high school girls passed me around mile 2. By then I was fighting for every step, breathing hard, and furious at myself.

The final loop, on the way toward the finish. I like this picture because my calf muscle looks awesome.

I didn't even want to look at Garmy. I had never wanted a race to end as badly as I did this one. Where was my strength, my verve, my running mojo? Gone. The blades of grass pulled at my feet like pawing, grasping hands, slowing me down. My heart thundered, my breathing was rapid and ragged. My legs felt like iron posts.

Closing in on the finish. Thank goodness.

I hit the line in 25:02, which was my slowest raced 5K in almost 2 years (I don't count the 2008 Big House Big Heart or the Flirt with Dirt last month because I wasn't really purposely racing either of those). I was trying extremely hard...I just wasn't getting it done.

Despite what I consider a subpar performance, it was still good for an age group win. (That's why I love these sparsely-attended local races.) Additionally, I won an exercise ball in the raffle!

FREE COOL STUFF! YAY!

I was lectured/admonished/scolded by FK and TC afterward that I am overtraining and that is why I crashed and burned during this race. I reluctantly agreed. I wore myself out last week, what with my 12 x 400m interval workout Monday followed by my failed tempo run Wednesday, then giving blood at work on Thursday, followed by a speed workout Thursday evening (dumb, yes, I know), running 11 miles Saturday...yes, yes, YES. I overdid it. Thus, this week, I have been taking it easy. I didn't do anything at all today. Lazy bum, that's me. Tomorrow, hills with the gang. Friday...um...well, I'm running another 5K race in the evening. It's only because I want the race T-shirt! That's all! I won't overexert myself, I swear! I won't 'fess up as to what race this is until after it's over, however. I guarantee, though, its name is fucking AWESOME. And that's the only reason I'm driving 30 miles on a Friday evening to run a road race.

Finally, here's a picture of me from the always-fantastic Michigan Brewers' Guild Summer Beer Festival last week:

Life is good. So is beer. Therefore, life = beer¹. And really, that's all you need to know.

Thanks to FK for the great race pictures!

1: Copyright 2009, Glaven Q. Heisenberg.

My Reward

Why I run: so I can drink good beer. Right now I am in Ypsilanti's Riverside Park at the Michigan Brewers' Guild Summer Beer Festival. I look forward to this event all year. In my left hand is a Scotch ale from Copper Canyon Brewery. I am happy. Life is good. So is beer.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Thursday Thoughts: The Good, The Bad, and the Smelly

Long time, no blog. It's been almost two weeks! I've been spending the evenings, normally my waste-time-on-the-computer time, burning all of the stages of the Tour de France to DVDs for my dad, who is an avid cyclist but is without cable. I'm editing out all of the ads (the TDF broadcast is infested with them) because for all the magical and wonderful powers of TiVo, it has not yet figured out how to not record commercials. In doing so I can easily cut over an hour from the program time which is composed of nothing but ads. It's kind of appalling.

My reappearance after 13 days should do wonders to soothe some people's angst (expressed privately) at not having any of my sage words to read. Are you happy now? ;)

The good:

As a friend of mine likes to say to express amazement and excitement, "holy WAH." I have no idea what that means, but it neatly encapsulates what has happened since I began the FIRST program on June 29. After three weeks, the cumulative effects of this speed-heavy program have suddenly and spectacularly made themselves known. As in, "oh, I think I'll just go out for a nice and easy four-mile run" and the next thing I know I've done it at an 8:10 pace and was able to carry on a relaxed conversation the entire time.

Monday morning I visited my local Circle of Doom (aka the high school track) for a taxing interval workout: 12 x 400m with a 90 second rest. Emboldened by my weekend of quality running, I attacked the track with a vengeance and hit my target time (1:40 +/- 2 seconds) on 11 of my 12 laps. I did the whole thing, including warm-up and cool-down, in under an hour and made it to work on time. For the record, my legs were complaining A LOT Tuersday and Wednesday after that, which may have contributed to the EPIC FAIL which was my tempo run on Wednesday morning. The less said about that the better.

Last night I attended a concert by one of my favorite artists, Neko Case. It was fabulous! In a couple of weeks I am going to see Fleet Foxes. At the end of August I will hear Great Lake Swimmers, and then at the end ofSeptember I will be able to see Grizzly Bear! As exciting as this lineup is, it pales in comparison to THE BIG ONE, the concert of the year (for me, anyway): DEPECHE MODE. AUGUST 12. OMG. OMG!

The bad:

I smashed my hand into a door as I was carrying a chair from one room to another. I thought to myself when I picked it up: "I need to be careful, because I could easily bang into a door." Um...yeah. The impact also planed a little curl of skin off the back of my hand. I now have a lovely bruise to remind me of how clumsy I can be sometimes.

Today's weather is the mortal enemy of my hair: warm, drizzly, and very humid (89% at the moment). You want to see the 'fro at its angriest, just make me go outside for five minutes today. Then stand back, because I'm not responsible for what happens if anyone gets too close to my hair. It's wild and dangerous, I tell you. Luckily it can be tamed (almost) with the strategic deployment of a hair elastic, a vital piece of grooming equipment which is never far from my reach. iPhone in one hand, elastic in the other, that's all I need to feel secure.

My aforementioned tempo run from Wednesday. Bah.

The smelly:

I realized something foul was afoot last Saturday morning when I got up to go running. L'eau de skunk was rather pungent. When I got home from my run, I knew something was really wrong because my house...ugh. And then I opened the basement door. OH MY GOD. The smell, it was very bad. I immediately called Critter Control. They were here that afternoon to set a trap. By 9:15 pm Saturday night there was a skunk in the trap. But wait, there's more! There was more than one skunk lurking in the crawlspace under my kitchen floor! I could hear them scratching around, fumbling against the heating duct, making squeaking noises. The cats were terribly intrigued and spent long periods of time staring at the baseboards and sniffing at the heating vent (which I had closed, because, you never know).

Critter Control returned Sunday afternoon to remove the trapped skunk, who responded to being moved by releasing a small but fierce blast of odor into the air. It was highly unpleasant. Let me repeat that: IT WAS HIGHLY UNPLEASANT. Two more traps were baited and set by the hole, but since then, nothing else has happened. I haven't heard any more noises, and my house does not stink any more (aside from the smell of sweaty running clothes, an odor which is normally kept quarantined in my Closet Command Center). The traps remain empty morning after morning. I am hoping the other members of the skunk family packed up and left town on their own.

Tomorrow I have something very exciting to do after work. More on that later!

Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow

You'd think I'd never run before the way I have been staggering around today. NO, this is not a repeat performance of last week's ovarian symphony. This is DOMS from my group workout at the track last night. It was a fartlek extravaganza of 1.5-mile warm-up, then 100 yards each of walking lunges, high steps, high skips, and kick-butts (followed by a jog over the rest of the track). Repeat sequence twice for a total of two miles, followed by a 1.5-mile cool-down. 5 miles total. Temperature was hovering somewhere around 77 degrees.

I knew I was going to be in trouble when my legs felt like rubber after the first set of lunges. Nevertheless, it was one of those workouts which tests one's fortitude, but in a good way. I gave it my all, and returned home feeling tired but satisfied.

Today...just ouch. Aching quads, aching glutes, aching everywhere. It didn't help that I had to sit in my chair at work all day and was unable to move around very much. I'm hoping tomorrow's long run will sweep away some of the soreness. I can run miles and miles, but make me do a few drills and I turn into a puddle of goo. Clearly, I have some things on which to work.

Of Dirty Laundry and Dilaudid

You know you're a runner when:

• You transfer some laundry from the washing machine to the dryer, and there are safety pins scattered about the bottom of the empty washer drum. Similarly, you open the door to your dryer, and a handful of safety pins falls out. I have the cleanest safety pins in the world.

• You are lying supine on a gurney in a hospital ER, moaning and shaking and panting uncontrollably as the worst pain you've ever felt rips through your abdomen over and over and over, and the only thing you can think of is "I wonder if I can still go for my long run tomorrow?" Of course, once the sweet, sweet nectar that is Dilaudid hits your brain like a ten-ton truck, you won't be thinking about much of anything. (I yelled, "Now I know why people get addicted to drugs!" before I floated quietly away on a heavenly cloud of narcotic painkiller.)
  

Yes, I spent part of the weekend in the hospital. It meant that my Friday evening and all of Saturday were completely shot. I didn't have appendicitis nor did I have a kidney stone. I had a ruptured ovarian cyst. Guys, be glad this can never happen to you. It was dreadful, excruciating. I was sternly forbidden from running for at least two days. TWO WHOLE DAYS? I'm training here! (I should add another "you know you're a runner when": "everyone in the ER knows you're a distance runner within 20 minutes of being admitted because you're incapable of talking about anything else, espcially when you're actively training for a marathon.") It was difficult, but I managed. I managed by going to the beach on Sunday with a book and lying in the sun for a few hours reading about Bella and Edward and Jacob (if you have to ask...well, just don't). A little swimming, a little sunning...I let the memory of the drama of the previous 36 hours drift away and I returned home happily sunbaked. Monday morning I was back on the road. Yes, I'm fine. No, I didn't have to have surgery. For now....

Stupid female bits. *grumble*

No Thanks...I Have Enough Race Shirts

Well, folks, as of today, my little blog is two years old. Two years ago I wrote my first posts...and...well, the rest is history. According to various etiquette-savvy Web sites, the traditional gift for a second anniversary is cotton, but as we runners know, cotton is bad for running. So why are most race T-shirts cotton? Who knows. I have about 30 of them. I'm wearing one right now (Dexter-Ann Arbor Run 2009). However, the modern equivalent is china. Therefore, I will take one piece at a time of this. So get cracking, people.

Monday marked the official launch of my 18-week Summer-Fall '09 New York Marathon Training Plan. For this, my third tour of 26.2 miles, I have chosen a training plan which is completely different from any I have done before: a FIRST plan. After some consideration I decided to use the plan for first-time marathoners. I'm not a first-timer, but I don't think I'm ready for the intensity of the "FIRST to the Finish" plan (unlike certain crazy people who shall remain nameless. but still crazy. you know who you are). The FIRST Marathon plan has enough speed work to keep me happy, and only requires me to run three days a week. I slipped in a fourth day of running, which will be my Thursday workouts with the Running Fit 501 gang; this leaves me two days of cross-training (hel-LO weightlifting!) and one day of rest, which will be my traditional rest day of Friday. Yesterday my workout called for six intervals of one minute at a fast pace followed by three minutes at an easy pace. For these Monday workouts, my "Key Workout #1," my fast pace will always be my 10K race pace (7:30) minus 45 seconds = 6:45. I handled this workout without a huge amount of difficulty and it left me with a satisfied tired feeling. This training plan packs on a lot more speed work than any I have done before, and I am truly hoping that as a side effect I can bring down my 5K personal best a little further. I would love to crack 22:00 before the end of the year.

Tomorrow I have to run six miles, broken into two-mile chunks of easy-tempo-easy. For my Wednesday workouts, "Key Workout #2," my "tempo" pace will be my 10K race pace (7:30) plus 15-30 seconds. Therefore, I have to run my two tempo miles between 7:45 and 8:00. Yeesh. Well, I can't complain...I signed on for this madness. I am a crazy obsessed runner chick, after all. I have to live up to my reputation.

So what happened to "oh, I'm just going to take it easy this time, my hard work of the year is done." I qualified for Boston in May, so what's the big deal? Well...I love a challenge, and this is going to take my running in a totally different direction. I still think of myself as little more than an ongoing physiological experiment, and I treat my body as a laboratory of one. I guess I'm just curious to see what happens. Sort of like "hey guys, watch this!" but without the possibility of flames or explosions or people crashing into things. No blood will be spilled nor runners harmed in the making of this marathon experience. Maybe.

Speaking of races of all shapes and sizes, here are a few pictures of me racing which I dug up on the Internets:

At the Fit 5K in Novi, where I set my current PR of 22:13. Test-driving my Michigan Alumni shirt for chafing in preparation for the Cleveland Marathon.



Dexter-Ann Arbor 10K, where I set my current PR of 47:13. Test-driving my Summer Stealth Bomber outfit. It's fab.

Flirt with Dirt 5K trail race, just before the finish. I'm in the process of totally chicking that guy who held me up for half of the race. See ya later, dude.

And on that note, I'm off to bed...I'm trying to make myself go to sleep earlier. 5:45 am arrives awfully early. I've been staying up too late reading, a longstanding habit which stretches back into elementary school.

Green Mountain Relay Pictures!

Assorted pictures from my GMR experience. I took most of them but I "borrowed" a few from my relay teammates if I thought I looked halfway decent in them. Plus I wouldn't have any pictures of me actually running if it wasn't for you! Thanks, guys. :)

Bouhaki helping me pack for the trip. Kitty help is always appreciated...mostly. He was removed from my pajamas shortly thereafter, but immediately moved to some running clothes.

At the starting line in Jeffersonville, Vermont, on Saturday morning.

Receiving final instructions from our fearless leader.

The mighty warriors of Van One: Thomas, Eric, TK, me, Tamar, and Connor.

All dressed up and nowhere to go...except run 7.9 miles through the Green Mountains!

The covered bridge I ran through on my first leg, which was the whole reason I chose my place as Runner #3. It was lovely.

Midway through my first leg.

There I go, blazing off down the road...up yet another hill...

Passing over a small river on my first leg. What do you see here? ROCKS! OMG ROCKS!¹

Scenery on the road during my first leg.

All done with my first leg and very tired and sweaty! The "sweat seat" in the van lived up to its name.

Flowers on the town commons at one of the exchanges.

Enjoying ice cream at the Ben & Jerry's factory after our van went "off duty."

Peonies outside the Old Hancock Hotel in Hancock, where we ate dinner Saturday evening.

At the evening van-van exchange, waiting for Runner #12 to finish so we could get back on the road!

Making hay in the fading summer twilight.

Ready to get it on with my third and last leg, about 5:45 Sunday morning.

I'm not sure what, exactly, I'm looking at here...probably a map.

I ran alongside this river for most of my third leg. Its musical gurgling was my accompaniment.

Morning mist over the forest.

Finishing my last leg! Go, Eric!

Me and TK posing in our Dump Runners Club headbands at the Winhall Highway Maintenance Facility. I am finally a full-fledged member of the DRC.

The Van One comrades, after we were completely done. When's breakfast?

1: I was in geology heaven for the entire trip; I hadn't seen so many rocks since I was in graduate school. On the way back to the city I completely freaked out when we passed this roadcut. I mean, I yelled and frantically fumbled for my iPhone to take a picture and then nearly cried when I missed my opportunity.

Green Mountain Relay Finish

I'm home (finally), clean( finally), and my nasty dirty laundry is tumbling in the dryer as we speak. I took 171 pictures over the weekend, which is far more than I want to deal with right now, but for the moment, here's one of me and my amazing teammates at the finish line in Bennington.

Maria, James, Jeff, Robert, Tavia, Connor, Thomas, Michael, me, Eric, Tamar, and Robyn: YOU GUYS RULE!!!!

Fireflies at Night

My weekend of adventure is drawing to a close. The 2009 Green Mountain Relay is over. My team finished in 26 hours and 29 minutes with an 8:03 average pace. All of us are incredibly dirty and tired. I'm on my way back to New York, looking forward to a hot shower, a beer (or two) and a good night's rest of more than 2 hours.

My second leg late last night was one of the most interesting runs I have ever done. I started around 9:40 pm after the sun was down and it was completely dark. We were required to wear a headlamp, and it was absolutely necessary, because I was out in the middle of nowhere and there were no lights anywhere. Dust (pollen?) and bugs swirled in the beam of light in front of my head. I started out quickly; my first mile was 7:59. I was feeling more energetic than I was for my first leg ten hours earlier.

I was out on a dark rural road, with nothing but the sound of my breathing, footsteps, and a softly rushing stream to keep me company. My world had narrowed to what was illuminated in the square of light 20 feet in front of me. I heard the occasional critter rustling in the underbrush, and the solo peep of a solitary frog. Then I noticed the fireflies. They twinkled and danced above the fields I knew were on my right (to my left was a sheer rock wall) and glittered in the trees on the hillsides. It was beautiful and extraordinary. I felt so fortunate to see it, to experience this on such a wonderful summer night, the longest night of the year.

I maintained a low-eight-minute mile pace for the rest of my 5.1-mile run, spurred on as much by my high energy level as by the sensation of the dark pressing in around me. I ran as if there was an unknown entity on my heels. I finished my leg in 42 minutes and slapped the hand of my teammate to send him on his way.

The rest of the night passed in a blur; around 12:30 am we met the other van at a major exchange and subsequently went off duty. We grabbed a couple of hours' worth of napping at a motel close to the exchange where we would commence our final morning legs. Two hours wasn't nearly enough. Disoriented and tired, we waited in the growing predawn light for the graveyard shift runners to finish. By the time I set off on my final leg at 5:53, the sun was up (albeit behind clouds) and the birds were singing. I finally got to see the gorgeous countryside which had been obscured on my night leg. My route followed a river for a long way, a gentle descent which turned away at mile 3.2 to ascend a mile-long hill all the way to the finish, reminiscent of my grueling first leg of the previous day. I churned my way to the finish at 4.4 miles, completing the leg in 36:52 (8:41 pace). I handed off to my teammate and my part in the relay was done.

After the other van went active, we got breakfast and then drove to the finish line in Bennington, where we waited for a couple of hours while the other van completed their legs. When the final runner on our team approached the finish line, we all joined him for the final 50 or so meters before the end. We all crossed together, a team until the very end.

This was my first experience with relay racing...and I don't want it to be the last. I'm so glad I did it. See you guys next year!

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Bring on the Ben & Jerry's!

My first relay leg is complete. 7.9 miles, an hour and ten minutes and change. I was slowed considerably by the hills. Oh, those hills! There's nothing like them in Michigan. My legs felt like rubber. But it was such gorgeous countryside, I couldn't be upset. Plus, I ran through a covered bridge!

My van of six runners finished our legs, and now that we're "off duty," we're taking it easy. The big exchange took place next to the Green Mountain Coffee Roasters plant. It smelled amazing, and of course I got some coffee. And then...the Ben & Jerry's ice cream factory! Really! Now, if I can have a pint of beer before my next leg, this will be the best race day ever.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Green Mountain Relay

Howdy everyone. I am currently in scenic Colchester, Vermont, because tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM the great Green Mountain Relay adventure begins. My team of five women and seven men, all fantastic running chicks and dudes, drove up from New York City today. I have been looking forward to this event for months.

And when we arrived this afternoon...I went and ran four miles.

I will be "liveblogging" via iPhone over the course of the weekend as the relay unfolds. Come back for updates!

Now, time for dinner...and a couple of beers!

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Flirt with Dirt 5K: It's My First Time, Be Gentle

I popped my trail racing cherry Saturday at the Flirt with Dirt in Novi. This is not to say I had never beat feet in a forest before. Way back in the day I used to run on the Potowatomi Trail in Pinckney, which I was able to access by walking across the street from my house. Really. Feel free to be jealous, fellow southeast Michiganians. I am envious of my nine-years-ago self, having one of the region's premiere trails within walking distance of my house, but at the time I was a lackadasical runner, hardly serious at all, a brief spurt of action centered on a six-week span, and really did only flirt with the dirt before leaving it high and dry and forgotten when I moved to a different town.

I was ready to atone for past trail-teasing wrongs when I lined up with the field for this past Saturday's 5K. I knew I wanted to take it easy and be very careful because the LAST thing I needed to have happen was to twist my ankle on a tree root, because the Green Mountain Relay is fast approaching and I knew that my fearless leader (hi TK!) would kill me if I injured myself. So racing to beat the devil was right out. The race started on grass and the swish swish swish sound of shoes on grass brought me back to my cross country days. Then we ran through the gravel parking lot and into the woods. I hit mile 1 in 7:57, but most of that was on the grass/gravel. Once I entered the woods my pace dropped dramatically. I had to concentrate on not tripping and doing a faceplant into the dirt. The trail followed a crazy convoluted course and I was weaving from side to side, hardly ever getting a chance to run straight ahead. I never went on autopilot; I had to pay attention every second to where I was putting my feet. Then I got stuck behiind someone who was slower than me and I just could. not. pass. him. I should have shouted, "ON YOUR LEFT!" and maybe that would have made him move aside...but I'm too polite. Shocking, I know, what with all the swearing and bodily functions I talk about. When the trail exited the woods about 50 meters before the finish, I swung wide to the left, turned on the afterburners, and blew that guy away. I had so much fuel left in the tank it was ridiculous. I hit the finish in 28:54, which under normal road-based circumstances is a time which would make me wince and think "what the hell?" but this was trail running. As my friend put it later, "It's a different beast." Indeed. However, I still managed to place first in my age group. It was a fun day in the woods. There was a bit of mud (I got some smears on my legs...I guess that counts as my "flirt" with dirt, eh?), and it began to rain about a mile into the race, which seemed fitting, somehow.

The aspect of this race I was must stuck by was how quiet it was. It was so much more hushed than a road race. I heard the sound of raindrops pattering on the forest canopy above my head, I heard the occasional shout from a fellow runner deep in the woods, but other than that...most of the time I could barely hear the soft whisper of my own footsteps on the dirt. The event was sold out, totally at capacity...but one never could have guessed that from trail level.

Races, races, and more races...when will the madness end? I just...can't...stop...HELP!

Final stats: 28:54/9:17 per mile/1st out of 12 AG/10 out of 94 women/28 out of 155 overall

Karma....Bites

Or would that be dogma bites?

After my improbable string of good luck, I began to get uneasy. Surely this was too good to last. A successful BQ effort, two 10K PRs in two weeks, getting picked for the Mackinac Bridge Run and the New York City Marathon, winning the Mega Millions lottery...

Okay, that last one was totally made up. (If only.) However, the rest was true. I knew it was too good to last. Something had to happen to bring my big head back down to earth. Like the proverbial balloon, my ego was popped via a set of very sharp dog teeth. Yes, of the infinite number of available vector paths in the space-time continuum, two of them intersected at a very unfortunate juncture.

It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon when my running partner, FK, and I set out on the Lake Losee trail in the Pinckney Rec Area. What lay ahead was a three-mile loop of bicycle-free trail. Shortly after we started, the trail went up a steep, pebbly hill. Coming down the hill toward us was a man who was being dragged along by two dogs. The man was scrambling to stay on his feet as they came flying down the trail. Upon seeing us, the dogs lunged forward even harder. The trail was narrow, and the man tried to reel in his dogs and move to the side to allow us to pass. The dogs were lunging at FK as he went in front of me. The man said, "Oh, they're friendly." As I passed, the dogs were both standing on their hind legs straining and pulling toward me. I went by and the bigger of the two dogs leaped out as hard as it could and I felt a nasty sharp pain lance across my left arm. It happened so fast I was already ten feet beyond them before it really registered. I thought, "well, maybe that dog just scratched me with its claws." But having owned a dog, and having felt her claws on me as a matter of course over the years, I knew I hadn't been clawed. It just didn't feel right. I looked at my arm and there were teeth marks surrounded by a wet smear of saliva. I looked again. I stopped and said, "Jesus fucking Christ, that dog bit me! MOTHERFUCKER!" I was furious and upset. I looked helplessly back down the trail. As much as I wanted to sprint back down the trail and confront the guy, what good would that do? He wasn't even within sight any more. I spat out another furious "GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" glared at my arm, and then gestured at the trail: "Well, let's get on with it." I grumbled and muttered the rest of the way and by the time we finished and returned to the parking lot, the teeth indentations had turned an angry red and the faint shadow of a bruise was beginning to appear. Now, several days on, the scratches left by teeth have faded to faint red lines but the bruise remains, a ring of purple with a clot of yellow in the middle. And it still hurts.

What do y'all think? Should I have stopped the moment I felt the dog's teeth make contact with my skin and raised a huge fuss? Fortunately, my skin was not broken, but...a strange dog bit me. On the arm, for crying out loud. Four feet off the ground. What if there had been a small child on the trail instead? Its cheek might have looked awful tempting. What's more, the guy never made any attempt to verbally control his dogs. No "sit," "stay," "down," or even a simple "no!" Nothing. Just the lame (and completely inaccurate, IMO) "Oh, they're friendly." Yeah. What the fuck ever, asshole. In my experience it's the dogs who are announced as being "friendly" that are the ones you need to watch out for, like the black bear in dog's clothing which attacked our then-three-month-old puppy on the sidewalk. As this tank of a dog came lumbering toward me and Hannah, its owner called out, "Oh, don't worry, he's friendly," just before the beast, hunched and bristling, plowed into both of us, knocking Hannah over onto the concrete. I was completely horrified and had no idea what to do. Hannah was squealing and I was on the verge of screaming myself and then the wretched "friendly" dog's owner arrived and grabbed it by the flab at the back of its neck and hauled it back into its house. Another "friendly" dog that was anything but. Every single time I go by that house and that jerkoff dog barks at me and runs up and down the fence in its yard, I narrow my eyes and think, "Friendly my ASS!"

So anyway...despite my tendency to shrink from any hint of confrontation, I think I blew it by not making a scene (okay, maybe just a small scene) immediately after the unfortunate intersection of Vector A (dog teeth) and Vector B (my bicep). I'd like to say, "Next time I won't be such a WIMP!" except I really hope there is not a next time.

In other news, this evening was the first gathering of this summer's session of Running Fit 501, the group training program I did last year. We met at the RF warehouse for a two-mile time trial, which I did in 14:21 (6:58 and 7:22). Our little Chelsea/Dexter group has grown considerably and tomorrow we have our first group run in Dexter, an easy run, since we had what amounted to a mini-speed workout tonight. After this, our Thursday group runs will be speed work(maybe some hill intervals, too? I'm not sure) at the track in Dexter. This is good, because I want to work on my speed. I'm determined to break 22:00 in a 5K before the end of the year. Bring on the 800 meter repeats!

And now, some random pictures:

If only it were this easy!

Randy Step, the owner of Running Fit, decides to forgo a plate and just eat pizza right out of the box. This was during the Swamp Party (literally, a kegger in the middle of a swamp) after the Tooth, Fang & Claw 10K "fun run" last week. I ran it in something like 52:00, got a free pint glass (leftover swag from some long-ago race), was harrassed by mosquitoes, drank cheap beer, and had a great time.

Speaking of bad beer...this can of Busch Light sits in the middle of chalk marks in the parking lot of a defunct Service Merchandise in Westland, which was the starting point for my first-ever outing with the Motown-Ann Arbor Hash House Harriers last Sunday. Yes, I am no longer a hash virgin. There was mud, mosquitoes, poison ivy (I didn't get any on me because I wore pants) and lots of really, really cheap beer. I drank...Labatt Blue Light...out of a can...forgive me, O beer snobs!

Finishing up the two-mile time trial. I'll see all my RF501 peeps at Thursday's group run!

I can't hold it in...

I'm in!

NEW YORK CITY MARATHON 2009!

Oh My God!

Congratulations! On behalf of the Governor’s Council on Physical Fitness, Health and Sports, we are pleased to notify you that you have been selected in the lottery to participate in the sixth annual Mackinac Bridge Labor Day Run! Winning entrants who will be asked to serve as ambassadors will receive a separate notification.

Oh, wow! Oh, holy shit! I guess I know what I'll be doing on Labor Day.

I entered the lottery for the Bridge Run last year but was not selected. Perseverance, people! Now, let's see if I can extend my lucky streak to the New York City Marathon lottery...

Race Reports: Two For Two

People. I need race rehab or something. Seriously. Since April 29 I have run five races: two 5Ks, two 10Ks, and the marathon. I set personal records at four of those races, including one which stood for all of eight days before falling like a house of cards. I already wrote up the two 5Ks and the marathon. I'm here today to discuss my latest racing addiction, the 10K.

It started with the Bayshore race on the 23rd. I was in Traverse City in order to support a couple of running friends (FK & JF) who were running the Bayshore Marathon. I decided that six days off were more than enough. I hadn't run a single step since the Cleveland Marathon the previous Sunday. I was itching to get back on the road. Thus, I signed up for the 10K at the race expo Friday evening. Of course I had come to Traverse City prepared to run; I had a whole separate bag packed only with running clothes (multiple outfits, if you must know).

I had my highly irritating year-old PR in the back of my mind and I really wanted to break it, to run under 50:00, but I didn't know what my body was ready for. I had been hobbling around like a cripple all week and my legs were just beginning to feel normal again. So, I thought, just run and enjoy yourself. It's supposed to be fun, after all. You're not training for anything. Just run and have a good time and remind yourself why you love this sport so much. I didn't get off to an auspicious start, trapped as I was way in the back of the pack behind people walking four abreast and such. I did the usual bob-and-weave until I was running in the clear and could open up my stride. The course was a straight-up out-and-back along the Traverse Bay shoreline, and was quite beautiful, as well as pancake-flat. My legs felt surprisingly loose and limber, and I let myself flow over the road like water. Shortly before the turnaround I passed a somewhat familiar face (that's what you get for posting pictures of yourself on your blog!) for which I had been keeping an eye out: it was Nitmos. I saw him coming toward me on the other side of the road and we gave each other a silent "hey, I know you" point. I reached the halfway point in the vicinity of 24:00, and, still feeling fresh, kicked it up a couple of notches. I started picking out people ahead of me to pass based on completely shallow, arbitrary reasons. That chick with the way, way too short shorts? Toast. The teenager who was fading fast? See ya. The douchebag who would zip by me only to fade and slow (lather, rinse, repeat on that one)? Gone. That guy with the ugly-ass outfit? Eat my dust. I sped up even more and before I knew it I was rounding the final turn onto the track where only 300 meters of all-weather surface separated me and the finish. I pounded down the homestretch and knew a PR was all wrapped up when I hit the line and Garmy said 48:13.

Splits: 8:02, 7:48, 7:44, 7:49, 7:40, 7:24. Final chip time: 48:11 (7:46/mile avg); 7/134 AG; 47/849 women; 207/1419 overall; NEW PR by 1:49.

Note the laserlike focus as I near the finish line! My Bondi Band matches my shorts. This was not an accident.

The classic "stop the watch!" finish line pose.

Nitmos pointed out that I missed out on age group hardware by a mere 11 seconds. If I'd finished in 48:00 I would have been in fifth place in my AG and therefore would have collected some bling. Next time!

After changing into clean clothes, I took a shuttle bus out to the mile 20 spectator spot on the marathon course and, armed with my Big Sign, waited for JF & FK to appear. In due time they both did, and I ran with each of them briefly. It was the very least I could do for FK, who ran with me for three miles during Cleveland.

Not content with this effort, I decided to run the Dexter-Ann Arbor 10K on Sunday the 31st. I wanted to erase all traces of my overly round numbered PR from the race last year, even though I had successfully killed it a week earlier. The morning of the race was unusually chilly for this time of year; when I got up it was 39 degrees. Nonetheless, I wore my sleek new running skirt and tank top outfit (let's call it Summer Stealth Bomber) which I had purchased at the race expo on Saturday. Once again I found myself stuck too far back in the huge field when the race began, although in retrospect this was most likely beneficial because it prevented me from tearing out too fast and blowing my wad too early in the race. Once I had delicately threaded my way up to my pace peers, I relaxed. I felt amazing, even better than I had the week before. I found the coveted "my body is a machine" groove and let myself glide over the road with next to no effort. Even during the final mile I felt superb, and powered up the nasty hill to the finish. I was working very hard at the end, and I started to feel a sick burning sensation which I can only assume was lactic acid buildup. I crossed the finish line knowing I had crushed my PR again; Garmy said 47:15.

Splits: 7:57; 7:32, 7:28, 7:26, 7:27, 7:23. Final chip time: 47:13 (7:36/mile avg). 9/170 AG; 34/876 women; 168/1624 overall. NEW PR by 58 seconds!

Here I come!

I think I look like a "real runner" in this picture. Why, I'm moving so fast I'm out of focus!

After an incredible month of running, I am taking it easy, at least until 1) the Flirt with Dirt 5K trail race on June 13 and 2) the Green Mountain Relay the weekend of the 20-21. I'm fully recovered (as far as I can tell) from the marathon and I'm enjoying running on my own terms again.