Boldly running where I've never gone before

                      BONES! 

I need to get over this stomach virus! 

I was supposed to run 8 miles today, and all I did was run to the bathroom.  Grrrrr!

The Gorn are a nonhumanoid alien species known to be slower and less agile but stronger than humans.  Oddly enough, I was quite happy to feel like one yesterday.

I lost my “trail-race virginity”  at the Vasque DINO 5k in Indianapolis on Saturday, November 14.  According to Runner’s World, trail running is more difficult than road racing because it ” requires more total-body fitness and a better sense of running technique than running on the roads.”  They say it is also “slower than …. the roads” for the following reasons:  “A trail surface is never perfectly smooth, so you can’t run with a perfect stride. A trail invariably undulates, which makes it harder to find a running rhythm. A trail has low branches and overgrown bushes, which means constant ducking and dodging.”  Therefore they recommend three months of biweekly training before one’s first trail race.

Not knowing any of these things when I signed up for the race a mere two weeks after my first exhilarating trail run, I found myself in my usual state of unpreparedness when I queued up at the starting line.  I’ve been running on trails for maybe about two months, doing 3 mile loops in the Hammel Woods near my home.   And given my recent training hiatus due to the ankle sprain, I most certainly have not spent both of those months diligently bounding up and down hills in anticipation.   In fact, the last several days before the race I did no running at all due to my crazy work schedule and the inevitable fatigue wrought by it.

The Vasque DINO Trail series (DINO = Do INdiana Off-road) consists of a series of trail races which each have a 5k (3.1 miles) and a 15k (9.3 miles) component.  I had initially signed up for the 15k as a practice run to include in my training for the Walt Disney World Half Marathon.  Since my original training plan proposed that my weekly long runs would have reached 10 miles by now, it made sense to plan a relatively vigorous 9.3 mile outing amidst a field of other runners.  Since I train alone, I like the rejuvenating effect on my enthusiasm that races tend to give me (Buffalo Grove Stampede excepted, of course).  What I didn’t anticipate was that an ankle sprain would cause me to miss almost a month of running and that my job would bring me to the forefront of the swine flu epidemic, half-broken by stress and fatigue more often than not.

Ever the proponent of having a Plan B (or C or D) for every circumstance, I was not about to allow these vagaries of fate to force me to cancel another race.  So I transferred my enrollment from the 15k to the 5k and headed off to Indianapolis, outwardly brave and excited but inwardly battling disappointment and trepidation.  To keep from ruminating too much, I decided to make the 3 hour drive as much of a “fun road trip” experience as I possibly could.  So I spent $50 I didn’t really have on the CD Audiobook of Dan Brown’s “The Lost Symbol”, a book I’ve been trying to read for about 2 months but never find time to pick up (because I’m addicted to the computer) and thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment it provided.  Upon arrival, I was happy to discover my digs at the Hampton Inn to be undoubtedly the plushest room $87 has ever bought me and I fell asleep feeling hopeful instead of hesitant.

Due to the change from Central to Eastern time zone, I lost an hour of bed time and ended up getting only about a 6-hour nap instead of a full night of sleep.  I considered it a good omen that I had not forgotten any of my running necessities:  shoes, clothing, iPod, Forerunner, gloves.  That was comforting.  I breakfasted on coffee with a cup of milk and a banana smeared with Jif, then headed out.  I got to Fort Harrison State Park where the temperature was in the mid 40s—-a little cold but good enough once the sweat began to pour, I reasoned—-and found parking quite easily.  That made me feel a little better yet.  As always, I surveyed my fellow runners hoping to find those who looked to be as much of a longshot as I (basically older or fatter) and was happy to find a few.  More of the dread began to evaporate.

The 15k started 10 minutes before the 5k.  When I saw them take off and run like maniacs up this enormous hill, I was secretly glad I hadn’t joined them.  Man, were they fast!  The only thing missing was blue facepaint, Scottish claymores and a battle-cry. 

Soon it was time for the 5k to begin.  I lined up near the back of the pack between a pregnant lady and an old graybeard with a potbelly, figuring I would charge ahead and let them vie for last place between themselves.  And then we were off.  The course was well-covered in fallen leaves and I could not always see what lay beneath but spied enough gnarly tree roots and rocks to make me cautious. 

The first hill must have been at least a 45% angle upward.  “Holy shit” came to mind but I managed not to blurt it out.  I slowed down to a brisk walk with long strides and forged ahead.  Soon we reached the top and I ran down.  This became my pattern for the rest of the race.  I tried to keep my runs paced between 11:00-12:00 and hill climbs under 16:00 while steadily searching the ground for any obstacles that might re-injure the still-healing ankle. 

Buoyed by the fact that I had indeed outpaced a few other runners, I continued on….hill after hill after motherfucking hill.  Watching my Forerunner tick off the miles, I kept myself from slowing down by saying things like,  “I’m 1/3 done,” “it’s half over,” and “only a mile to go.”  After I had passed the final aid station and had about 3/4 mile left ahead of me, the trail began to emerge from the deep forest and I could see the finish line.  As I scampered down what appeared to be the last hill, I spied a smiling volunteer in the clearing below.  She called out as I approached, “You’re almost there!  Only one more little hill!” as she pointed to the left.  My heaving lungs exuded a sigh of relief that stopped dead in my throat when I finally reached her and turned in that direction.  Son of a bitch!  It was the Braveheart hill the 15k runners had started with!  “Little?!” I gasped, and she chortled, “Everybody has something to say when they see it.”  I wanted to slap the taste out of her mouth but knew I needed all my strength to be able to finish the race.

So I slowly hauled my chubby old tired ass upward, thighs and lungs burning, until I got to the top.  It was STEEP.  Running down, I felt almost out-of-body as I noted how my eyes were literally bouncing in my head making everything look like a movie filmed during an earthquake.  But down I went continually urging myself forward, ever closer to the end.  In the final quarter-mile, I tried to speed up for a spectacular finish but just couldn’t muster the energy.  43:25 after the gun went off I crossed the finish line 179th out of 189 runners, beaten by three 70-year-olds AND the winner of the 15K race but not minding it a bit.  Three cheers for the Gorn!

It’s been a great week!  I feel like a phoenix arisen from the ashes.

The half-marathon is 9 weeks from today, and I finally feel like I’m back in the game.  I will NEVER EVER EVER talk on my cell phone while walking around in the dark in a strange city again!  I guess I can’t walk and chew gum after all.  But what I can do is this:  I will make it my business not to have another dumb injury like that ankle sprain between now and January 9.

After my 5-mile run last Saturday produced no ill effects, I embarked upon a week of full-on training for the Half.  I had to modify my plan to account for lost time, but I feel like I can be “just about ready” by race day.  And every runner knows it’s better to show up 10% undertrained than 1% overtrained for the race, so “just about” will be “good enough.”

Last Sunday, I rode my bike about 5 miles and had intended to do some weight-lifting afterward but my ancient shoulders thought otherwise.  I definitely need to focus on cross training though, and will make a dedicated effort over the next week to do so.  Lack of balance can produce an injury just as much as anything else.

On Monday, I worked until 1:30 pm and then took the dogs to the I&M Canal Trail in Channahon where we did somewhere between 5 and 6 miles of speed intervals.  Well, as much as Molly would cooperate with….

Tuesday was cross-training day, and I rode 8 miles on the bike in 45 minutes.  There was a pretty strong headwind, so my thighs were burning by the time I finished.

Wednesday was my Long Run day this week and I went 7 MILES.  Woohoo!   I started out tired, felt great in the middle and then had to push a bit to finish—-but I finished.  It was slow, like 1:40, but that’s okay.  I did it.  I pretty much had to drag myself through the 9 hour workday that followed but I’m so glad I got in that run. 

Thursday was a 13 hour workday, therefore no training.  I was exhausted and felt like crap but got through it.

On Friday, still tired, I ran 4.5 miles.  This was supposed to have been my Tempo Run, where I run at race pace.  I couldn’t do it.  My legs felt like lead and my body didn’t want to put forth the effort.  I went at the same pace as Wednesday instead.  Right now my goal is just to do the miles and get the body back into the swing of 5 days every week.

Today is Saturday.  It’s a beautiful fall day: 68 degrees and the sun is shining.  It feels almost like spring, when all things are reborn.  I’m sitting here feeling somewhat reborn too.  I don’t exactly have a warp drive like Zefrem Cochrane’s ship, but I am just as ready to challenge limitations and stretch boundaries.

I am just positively ass-over-teakettle today!!!

I had been so worried about not being able to keep up with the races I have planned for the next few months because of this stupid ankle injury.  Having to cancel the Milwaukee Lakefront Discovery run that I was supposed to do today really took the wind out of my sails for a couple of weeks.  Not only was it going to be a wonderful race — starting at the War Memorial and ending at the Ale House where they were going to pour pints until the kegs ran out — but it was going to be my first ever 15k AND Fred was going to come with me AND we had reserved rooms above an Irish pub.  What a drinker’s paradise it would have been!  But then came the sprained ankle and ruined it all.

Two weeks of overeating and depression followed until I finally got my head out of my ass about 5 days ago and decided to get on with life as best as possible.  I met a woman online through my running forum who has run through all sorts of obstacles, and she inspired me with some really wonderful quotes.  Like these:
“I have to run with the body I have, not the one I *wish* I had. (Chanelling John Bingham there.)”
“Life is pain. Suffering is optional.  (The Noble Truths.)”
“Pain is temporary, quitting is forever. (Of course that’s Lance.)”
“You can’t always get what you want.  (Ok that’s the Stones, not Buddha.)”
“It’s about the process, not the destination.  If there weren’t dragons on this path, it wouldn’t be a quest.” 
What a much-needed dose of wisdom that was!  Also taking her advice that the body heals on its own and not according to a schedule on a calendar, I decided to just get out there and do what I could when I could — and not worry about the rest.  So I did.

On Tuesday, I gingerly ran 3 miles of speed drills, never going more than 1/2 mile at top speed, just checking the ankle out.  I worked insane hours on Wednesday and Thursday, then got rained out on Friday.  But today I RAN 5 MILES!

I ran 5 miles and ended at a faster pace than I started.  Then I went out with Fred for sandwiches and beer.  And then we walked the dogs 3 miles in the forest preserve.  YES!

Yes, I’m tired now and my legs are talking to me, but I’m happier than I’ve been in 3 weeks.  Sargon, a disembodied being who took over Captain Kirk’s body in order to be human again, waited a half million years to escape the receptacle which kept him trapped in place.  I only had to wait three weeks.  Thank God.

I sprained my ankle on vacation and can’t run.  The ankle brace my podiatrist sold me works great on my ankle but triggered my plantar fasciitis to flare up on that foot.

2 days ago I woke up with right rotator cuff trouble and can barely raise my arm to 90 degrees.

My back hurt this morning when I got out of bed but that has worn off.

And I had a hangover.

The half marathon is in 76 days.  I haven’t run much lately and am feeling the stress.  I’m worried about being unprepared if I don’t train, but I’m worried about worsening the injury if I train again too soon.

I really just want to scream!

I swear I am not marooned in space! 

I’ve just been incredibly busy and a bit of a slacker.

Since I last posted about 10 days ago, I have run a few times, lifted weights a few times, totally ignored corework and gone on one really really long bike ride.

I have also gone on an Outdoorswoman weekend, and will be driving to Texas (via Memphis and Helena) next week.

I SWEAR TO GOD I will update over the weekend.

  COOL, HUH?

OK, it’s really just a Garmin 305 but it’s so frackin’ Space-Age, it might as well be one!

I bought this gadget (on sale because now there’s a 405 that’s supposedly better) when I decided to follow a structured training plan for the half-marathon and then promptly shelved it because it was too hot to run outdoors.  I finally brought it out and got it set up a couple of weeks ago.  I really love it!

It tells me how fast and far I’m going because it’s linked to GPS satellites.  It tells me my best-paced lap, my current pace, and even how many calories I’ve burned.  It also has a heart rate monitor, so I can keep track of my heart rate when working out.  There are other functions I haven’t even tried yet, including training software that allows analyses of all the data collected.  I’ve used it on my last two long runs and am thrilled damn-near senseless to have the information it gleans.

I’m not sure if being engaged in such a personalized data-driven traning program complete with space-age gadgetry makes me feel more like a legitimate athlete or if I just like having toys, but it makes me feel better every time I strap it on.  That has got to be a good thing because it’s one of the reasons I keep throwing one leg out in front of the other mile after mile after grueling frackin’ mile.

To recap the week’s training:

Tuesday – upper body weight segments from Cathe’s Supersets DVD, 3 miles of speed intervals on treadmill

Wednesday – 13 hour shift at work….no workout

Thursday – 7.25 mile “long run”

Friday – worked in the AM then went to a wedding reception in the PM and got drunk

Saturday – worked 10 hours hungover….no workout

So far today, Sunday, I have gone on a 22 mile bike ride and cooked a nice hearty omelet breakfast.  I have hopes of hitting the weights again later.  I’ll report back in the near future.

Kira Nerys and the Bajoran resistance were able to hide from the Cardassians an entire winter in the Hills of Dahkur Province so they must have been quite substantial.  My hills on the trail in the Hammel Woods may not have been able to provide that protection but they sure set my thighs to burning on Saturday–and I LOVED IT!

I had a 6.5 mile run on my training calendar and, as is my custom with many things, waited until too late in the day to get started.  It was sunny and what I consider “hot” for running:  probably about 82 degrees.  So I scrapped the route I had plotted around the nearby subdivisions, and decided to head over to the woods to run on the paved bike trail.  If you pick up the northernmost section of the trail at the dog park and run all the way to the woods’ southern entrance  on Route 52, it’s 1.7 miles.  I figured I’d run out and back twice, thereby hitting my mileage target.

I got there, started running and realized it was still too freakin hot.  I’ve always noted the presence of hiking trails that lead from the bike path deep into the forest, but didn’t want to take them because of the possibility of ticks.  I hate those ugly things!  I’m not so worried about Lyme disease (hell, I’d just take a Z-pack if I ever found a target rash on myself) but I think I would scream like a little girl if I ever found a live tick embedded in my skin.  And I never remember things  like Deep Woods Off until it’s too late.

But on this day I just didn’t care.  Still stung by the humiliation of my spectacular last place finish at the 10K the week before and never ever ever wanting that to happen again, I will now do whatever it takes to be well-trained for the next race.  So into the woods I went.  IT WAS FANTASTIC!  Under the shady canopy of trees that probably could regale me with tales of Indian battles, I climbed hills, leaped over fallen branches, crossed a stream by walking over a log, and generally had a wonderful time.  Of course, I gasped and struggled and swore a lot too.  But it was still so much fun!

On Sunday, I worked 10 hours then rode my bike about 7 miles until it got too dark.

Monday was a rest day.

Today is Tuesday and I have some speed intervals planned along with upper body weights and core.  More later….

…getting ready for my long run on Saturday.  Actually, I’ve just been working like crazy.  Not much to report today.

 Walked 3 miles on Monday. 

Ran 1.5 miles and biked 7 miles on Tuesday. 

Worked 13 hours on Wednesday and then again on Thursday. 

Had a mere 6 hours of work today but am now paralyzed with exhaustion.

More tomorrow….

My “Run Less, Run Faster” training program for the Disney Half officially started today.  Since this week’s agenda called for a 6-mile run and there were a lot of Labor Day races around, I decided to enter the Buffalo Grove Stampede 10K.  The excitement of a race always keeps me moving when I want to slow down, so I happily signed up for this small race in a town about 60 miles from home.

I worked a 10 hour shift yesterday and spent the night in a motel near the course.   As I unpacked I realized I’d forgotten my iPod but I shrugged off the annoyance of it.  This morning I got up early, had my usual pre-run breakfast of coffee, a banana and a protein bar then headed over to the park.  At every race, I look for runners who are older and/or fatter than me because  it gives me a little extra hope to see someone who appears to be more of a longshot than I am.  The crowd today however was virtually scintillating with the young, the fit, the athletic—-you know, the opposite of me.  I did manage to pick out a couple of  fat guys, one  lanky aging-hippie type with long wavy grey locks and a few of what I call  “old runner chicks” (lean, angular AARP-aged females with determined sun-weathered faces framed by pixie haircuts—-there’s at least one at every race).  I was a little intimidated but I thought I’d be okay.  I never expected them all to be faster than me!

I lined up near the back of the pack as always and when the whistle blew, took off with the rest of the runners.  Man, did they haul ass!   For a while, I brought up the rear along with three old Japanese ladies and a white girl with a limp.  I kept thinking somebody would slow down for a little walk-break at some point but nobody did.  Eventually when I thought my lungs were about to burst, I began to intersperse walking and running.

The race wound through a neighborhood, turning corners and crossing streets, so it didn’t take long for me to lose sight of the pack.   I pursued them as best I could but eventually reached a point when I couldn’t see where they had gone.  I turned left and kept running until I saw someone wearing a park district shirt and asked him where the 10K course was.  He pointed about a city block behind me to a streetlight and said “you were supposed to cross that street and go through the nature preserve.”  So back I went to the corner where I had to wait for the light to change before I could cross the street and attempt to rejoin the race.

By now I guess 3-5 minutes had been lost but I forged onward anyway.  I figured I could ruefully chortle “I got lost!” if anyone commented on my miserable position as the last runner.   I found the course and followed it but didn’t see any other runners until I reached a spot where people where coming back toward me from the turnaround at the end of the trail.  A few shouts of “you can do it”, “good job”, and “keep going” made it painfully obvious that everyone knew I was last.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to disappear, I wanted a hat and sunglasses to fall out of the sky and shield my face from public view and I almost wanted to quit—-but I didn’t.  I kept going.   I reached the turnaround point at least 5 minutes after the rest of the runners.  They were starting to take down the water station there but there were 2 cups left, so I drank one.

With a mere 3 miles left to run back to the finish line, I began my return to the park whereupon I noticed I was being tailed by one of the security guys driving a jeep.  I figured it was his job to follow behind the runners, and since I was the last runner he was going to follow me.  As I plodded ahead accompanied by the mechanical purr of his jeep motor instead of my favorite iPod tunes, I kept picturing him staring at my huge rear end rolling in front of him, but I didn’t turn around.  I stopped at various water stations, and smiled at the guys calling out splits:  “49 minutes”, “an hour 10”, “hurry up you lumbering fat-ass”…..well, they didn’t actually say that last bit but I assumed they were thinking it.

It was somewhere around between the 4 and 5 mile marks that I was joined by two First Aid volunteers on bicycles.  “Wow, I’ve never had my own entourage before,” I said, deciding I might as well speak to them so they’d know I wasn’t about to have a heart attack.  They circled me a few times (and yes, the word “vultures” did come to mind) and then kept a respectful distance.  Jeep guy kept putt-putting along, silently urging me forward.

Along the trail, up and down hills, over a bridge, across the street and back to the park I trotted.  Rhonda, the bicycle lady, told me I was making their day because I was such an inspiration.  Hal, her partner, said “you’re going to have a huge cheering section when you cross that finish line and we’re just starting it for you.”  I looked around, hoping I’d see a taxi that could bear me away toward anonymity, and briefly considered peeling the chip-timer tag off my shoe and throwing it in the bushes.  That last thing I wanted was more attention.

But finally there it was:  the finish line.  Almost 1 1/2 hours after starting, I scampered across to be greeted by a smattering of applause and a proffered bottle of water.  I hurried into the crowd and was doing a quad stretch when Hal approached me again.  “I want to take your picture,” he said.  “I’m the official photographer of the event today.”  I smiled lamely and posed, trying not think of a dozen disparaging captions that might accompany a photo of  The Last Runner to Finish the 10-K, then made my escape.

As I drove back to the motel, I thought about John Bingham’s tale in his book “The Courage to Start” about how he once finished last in a race and was followed by an ambulance.  “At least all I had was a jeep and two people on First Aid bikes,” I thought, and then gunned it down the road toward the motel’s  breakfast buffet.

It’s a good thing I don’t discourage easily or I wouldn’t be sitting here already planning my next race.

************************************************

Catching up on last week’s training:

Saturday was a day off.

Friday I rode my bike about 10 miles.