Marathon Pace Session on LBTT

When my alarm went off, I nearly couldn't find it to turn it off I was sleeping so deeply. What is it with morning long runs, anyway? How about a nice Saturday Afternoon long run? My will forced my body into action every step of the way, until I realized I was not only really, really tired, but I was also slightly nauseated. By the time I actually pulled into the parking lot, I had to remind myself that how I felt at the beginning of a run historically played no part in how the run was going to go. I've pulled into that very lot feeling like the energizer bunny, and had my worst long run; and I've felt horrible and ended up pulling it off. Let's just see what I had before setting myself up for a predictable self-fulfilling prophecy.

My long-suffering running buddy, Travis, was of course early and waiting. At 34F, he hops out in a T-shirt and shorts looking fresh and comfortable, while I'm in head-to-toe under-armor and have hot hands tucked in my gloves and worried how long it might take to die of hypothermia. I hope it's quick.

The goal: two mile warm-up and eleven at 8:24. The first two miles come with effort. I push the pedal down the instant we hit the third mile, and by the first quarter, we are still averaging above 8:24. This isn't looking good. I press harder, and think to myself, how on earth can I hold this for eleven miles, much less one? But, as we approach the last stretch before we turn around at two-and-a-half, Travis says, "Hey, what's the goal here, 8:00s?" I look at my watch and we've dropped the average for the mile to around 8:16 (making it up a bit), but apparently we're running at 8:00 for the moment. He watches the instant pace; I only watch the overall average for the mile. This is going to work out all right.

Eventually, we find it and I feel really good. We decide after the single break after five miles that we'll go out four and back, no other stops. We think we've planned this four out into the wind and four back with the wind at our backs. At around mile seven, we pass a group of solid runners, and one extends his white-gloved hand out. I'm pumped with how great I feel and decide we're going to high-five. I realize I'm delirious. But I know by now I'm going to kill this run. The high-five seemed appropriate.

Somehow, the wind shifted or we got it wrong and the turn back was into the wind. But, I've locked in the pace and we hold it steady anyway. We surge a bit for the last mile, which ended up being the fastest. Just a bit of extra credit there. At more than fifty miles for the week; and not a thing hurting--things are looking really good for Houston, ten weeks from tomorrow.

Marathon Pace on LBTT Garmin Connect - Details

Marathon Pace Session at Watkins Mill

When my alarm went off before 5 AM and I'd heard the wind buffet my bedroom windows like a tympanic membrane all night long, I seriously considered canceling. This was going to be a difficult enough run under pristine conditions. My pillow pulled me back and I gave in very briefly. One good thing about having a running buddy counting on you; no one wants to be the first to cancel. Guilt shoved me out of bed against my body's protests.

Seriously, didn't think I was going to have it and told my buddy Travis that at least five times before we got past the warm up miles. If you'd polled me at 2.5 miles into this run, I'd have told you there was no way it was going to happen as designed. It was cold, hilly and extremely gusty / windy. But not thinking I was going to have it wasn't going to stop me from trying. Despite my reservations, we ran better than my goals: 3 mi easy, 3 miles goal 8:24 (actual 8:15, 8:20, 8:14) 1 mi goal pace 7:50 (actual 7:42), 3 miles 8:24 (actual 8:09, 8:24, 8:07).

I'm still in shock I (we, although I had no doubts about Travis' ability) pulled it off; let alone in the conditions! Great run, I'm thrilled!

Watkins Mill Garmin Connect - Details

Watkins Mill 13 miles

A crisp start to the morning (42F), where I ran most of this run at Watkins Mill State Park with my buddy Travis who ensured I would not be lazy. First three miles were a warm-up, and the goal for the next three was 8:10. We ran 7:57, 8:00 and 8:08. This, despite the fact I'd forgotten how up and down this course was. Sure, there were downhills, but definitely a few uphills we had to push through. I had to really work for that third (sixth overall) mile, with one of the two biggest hills almost at the end of it.

Then, easy two miles, nice recovery, and a goal of repeating three more miles at 8:10. Again, I was struggling with the hills a bit, and managed 7:58, 8:15, 8:21, which were flat, small hill, the two biggest hills, respectively. The way the last mile fell out had precisely the two biggest hills, one at the beginning and one at the end. I didn't have the gas to keep it at that pace with the uphills. It was a good effort and I was still strong, despite the 8:21 pace. In fact, I believe had the mile been flat, I might have beaten the 7:57 first fast mile I'd run.

Then two more miles easy to wrap up the recovery and a total of 13 miles. I'm extremely happy with the effort, especially the fact that this run was by no means flat. Better yet--nothing is bothering me. Topped it off with a crossandwich from Sonic--which I believe might have been the best tasting breakfast sandwich in my entire life. I thought I might have died and gone to heaven.

Watkins Mill Run from Garmin Connect - Details

LBTT 12 Mi Trail Run

I'm not superstitious. But, I felt like posting that I've been running again after such a deep depression from a string of nagging issues would somehow ruin my good stretch of running. Like, washing my favorite football jersey after a string of victories would somehow wash away the team's chance of success.

Sort of like, show me the runs. I'm not talking about it. I didn't even post my first two weeks back. I'll believe it when I see it.

So here I am, the last two weeks of 40+ mpw behind me, and I'm solid.

Today I chose the LBTT with Rick who also is coming back from a series of nagging issues. The trail was a bit muddy after a steady rain all night, and there was steady wind out of the south. But the temps in the mid-60s and cloud cover felt great, and I was as strong at the end as I could ever hope to be.

My Garmin Details

It feels good to be back running again, with some belief that this is going to continue!

I Didn't Run Chicago Yesterday

I sat there on the exam room table, clutching my x-rays from the urgent care center a few days earlier and dangling my legs which were nowhere near the ground. I felt childlike; small, unimportant and intimidated by my surroundings. Needing guidance, help from someone who was supposed to have my best health care interests in mind.... and not sure I would find it.

My left foot was in a large boxy boot somewhat similar to the picture on the left, covering my toes to my knee. It kind of reminded me of a moon-walking suit. Not that I could really walk. In fact, the reason I'd come to my regular doctor was in hopes he'd either send me to a specialist or let me get some additional testing done to find out why I was in so much pain. My x-rays from a few days earlier indicated nothing was amiss.

He came in, pronouncing my name formally and then sat at looked at my chart. He looked up at me disdainfully, and stated: "Haven't you had a couple stress fractures from running already? It doesn't look like your body agrees with running. Maybe you should consider not running." Well, that was helpful.

I had hoped, at least, to walk out with a plan. Get an MRI, make an appointment with a podiatrist. Receive a suggestion of what might be wrong and how long it might take to heal.

If, it would in fact heal. The fact was, it had been thirteen days. And I was in more pain that I was on day one. I was worried.

After chiding me for running and pointing out further that I was no longer of an age to run and the repeated injuries should be my signal to stop, he poked around where my foot / ankle hurt and said, "I'm not going to send you for an MRI for that. Keep the walking boot. I don't have a better idea."

I limped out; defeated. Swing-thud; swing-thud; swing-thud. I was more depressed than ever. After all, it was a stupid, chain reaction thing. Not an over-use injury, but I simply got caught wearing the wrong shoes and a cascade of issues resulted.

Yesterday, I watched Chicago from afar. I filled my list of runners and hit refresh / reload hundreds of times over a four-and-a-half hour period until my last runner-friend crossed the finish. How I wanted to be there. I was thrilled and overjoyed to see a few people do really well. I actually got chills watching some friends just nail it and get stronger and stronger. It is a gift to be able to have everything line up to execute your marathon strategy, and I celebrated vicariously for several of you as you crossed the finish!

When To Write It Off

You picked your event months ago. Booked the hotel, the airfare, put in for vacation days from your job. Invested in all the right equipment.

You've trained long hours. You took your event seriously. You might have even raised money through a charitable organization such as World Vision, gaining the support of friends, family and co-workers along the way.

You skipped the late night parties. Eschewed indulgent behaviour on vacation. Maybe you skipped the vacation altogether to focus on your training. You got up when everyone was asleep to get in your workouts.

You were the only one standing around a Saturday afternoon picnic having run more than a dozen miles that day. Every Saturday for the third month in a row.

You passed up the bacon, fried chicken and ice cream.

You dreamed of acceptable, achievable--and dared to hope for the loftiest goals possible. Every workout was a measuring stick against your goal.

And now, you are either forced with a difficult decision; or, quite possibly, it's being made for you. You can't--or shouldn't--show up at the starting line of your event.

For awhile, you might bargain with yourself. OK, well, let's skip Goal A and Goal B, and still be happy with a reasonably dialed down goal C.

As I write this, I struggle with that very decision. Chicago is four weeks from today.

A mere two months ago, diagnosed with a stress fracture, I was so very determined to overcome it for a great race in Chicago. I worked twice as hard, aqua-jogging, cycling, strength training. I put in more hours of training than I would have if I weren't injured. Miraculously, I healed very well and was back to running in five weeks ever hopeful to be there in Chicago. It was harder than I thought to stay fit during this time. Coming back gave me more muscle aches than I expected. It was grueling, but worth it, and I learned a lot about myself in the process. It even led me to my first Century.

I've put in the time. Skipped the parties. Gone to bed early. Prioritized my workouts despite a highly demanding schedule. I've sacrificed to be there on 10-10-10. I want it. I earned it.

My friends are going to be there. Some running buddies are going to be there. My coach, Vince, is even going to do his debut marathon.

My right leg (where I had the tibial stress fracture) is absolutely fine; I had a story-book recovery. But now, faced with an odd and painful tendonitis on the top of my left foot, I have to make a decision. At the very time I must be peaking in mileage and intensity. In one mere week, there is little I can do to improve my fitness.

My foot tells me not to run. But, oh, how important being in Chicago is to me! I'm perfectly OK with dialing down my goals--to a point. I toyed with the idea of starting anyway, and taking a DNF if I just couldn't do it. But after trying that on for a few hours as a fall-back strategy, I realized that I couldn't really live with the mental burden of not at least finishing a race.

Sadly, my foot looks fine. No swelling. No discoloration. No heat. In fact, many movements of stretching and flexing are completely pain free. Simply looking at my foot, you'd have no idea there was something amiss. How can something so ... apparently minor be causing me such problems?

In this self-exploration I also realized there were personal limits in my own mind where I wasn't OK even if I did finish. These limits are different for everyone; and for different reasons. But there were pretty hard set finishing times that were simply not going to be acceptable to me. I decided not to mention what mine were, because I don't want to offend anyone with how slow or fast my cut-off time might seem. The point is, we all have them. And to me, there are certain times that are simply not worth running, and that's a very personal benchmark for myself.

When do you decide not to run in that key event? After you've given everything? The problem for many of us who have been running seriously for a few years is that we actually can run through quite a bit of pain. The most obvious answer to this question is if running is going to seriously aggravate your injury to the point you will have an extended outage from running. Instead of weeks, you are out for months. In some cases (such as stress fractures), running through the pain can actually permanently damage you if the bone breaks all the way through (which can and does happen--see photo to the left--Ouch!).

Another key time not to run is when you find you've altered your gait in pain-avoidance. Running miles and miles like that invites yet another injury cycle to go through. If you find yourself doing this, it's time to consider throwing in the towel.

Sometimes you are willing to take on that risk because a single event is so important to you to complete. You'd take two months off just to be there and finish. And that's where I am right now. My foot says, "don't run." My soul say, "run, you must run." It's a watershed event for me for more reasons than one. I'm at the point if I thought I could finish at my personal minimum goal level, I'd be OK if I had to be carted off the finish line and not run for the rest of the year.

Within the next couple of days, I will be making that decision. I'm either going to run Chicago, or I'm not. Probably by the time you are reading this; it will have been made. But, I am avoiding it just yet. Hanging on to the most tenuous of threads of hope that somehow, by some miracle, my foot will settle down and I can be there in the marathon that I love and for which I have prepared so hard and sacrificed so much.

Summer Breeze 2010 100 mile Course

It was out of complete ignorance I decided to do a biking Century. Sure, a few 10-mile loops here and there, a successful 74 mile ride. This is going to be so easy!

We started right on time, cruising out in a large group. I found comfort in being so close to a lot of other bikers, and enjoyed the excitement, brightly colored jerseys and flashing triangle lights many of the cyclists were wearing. But it was already 75 F when we started, and my early plans to skip the first rest stop at 15 miles were thrown out the window.

I realized a few things rather quickly: This was, in fact, not going to come easily. The 25 mph headwind made the biking exhausting. I was utterly unprepared.

The first stop I realized how necessary the bottle on my bike was. I was expecting cups and gatorade and water (a la marathon style), but the deal was you filled your own bottle. If you wanted Gatorade, you tossed in the powder on the spot. Not a bad idea. I ate a cup of peanut M&Ms.

I spent much of the first 30-ish miles fighting the wind, the hills and the rising temps, yet still feeling reasonably fresh. I was eating and drinking well, but about this point I was utterly alone on a road going straight into a very hilly section, directly into the headwind. I began to panic that I had somehow missed a turn. Nary a single marking of "SB -->" popped up even once on this long stretch, and each hill I thought to myself, "OK, this is the hardest hill I have ever climbed." Only to find another one just as bad or worse a few minutes later. I said this to myself at least ten times on ten different hills.

The second stop around 30 miles, I drank another 40 ounces and ate a half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

The wind was so strong, I had to pedal to go downhill. There was no coasting or resting. For fifteen miles (from 30 to 45), my concern grew. I hadn't seen a soul in over an hour and had no confirmation I was even on the right course. I searched my brain for a plan B: How do I figure out where I am and if I am on the course? The miles did not come easily, and this was way too early to be so exhausted. My worry grew, but then I hit the sign for the next SAG stop, which was quite busy with other cyclists, and marked the end of the long trek directly into the wind. And then my Garmin 405 battery died (despite being taken off the charger the moment I left), at 44 miles. Ugh. I mentally needed to know how far I had left.

From here on out, while I did occasionally lose sight of other riders for stretches, there were enough "SB-->" sightings that I no longer worried I was off course. Although I would have given anything to see a mark on the road that indicated a half-way point!

Being out of the wind, I started to feel better. In fact, I came in so strong at the mile 68 rest stop, it was the best I'd felt all day. I knew I was going to make it another 32 miles. Somehow. I had begun to pass people (instead of being passed), and never was passed again.

The next stop was the lunch in Raymore, at mile 83. I got off my bike, and suddenly felt quite woozy. This worried me a bit; because I didn't know why I felt like that and had not realized it while I was on the bike. I was well enough hydrated to require a visit to the porta-sans each stop and drinking 40+ oz. per stop (yes, it was THAT hot and sunny). I was eating solid food, and had been taking a few hammergels as well. Also, I'd built up some endurolytes the night before. Seventeen more miles to go. Although I was fully aware of how much I'd underestimated this effort, I also knew I'd finish this thing.

Lunch was delicious, barbecued chicken and beans and all the traditional goodies of orange slices, grapes, bananas and peanut butter sandwiches. I had two helpings of the chicken, as I found I was quite hungry. Feeling better, I took off for the final (and longest) stretch.

Interestingly, I was still riding well. I'd continued to pass people, which surprised me. I passed with caution, as I figured every single person on this century ride was better prepared and better trained than I was. I didn't want to pass someone and annoy them, only to get re-passed as they breezed by to point out I was a complete and UTTER novice. Nonetheless, my strength did not leave me.

At last, I pulled into the parking lot and spotted my car.. and many other cars still there. I eagerly searched for some welcoming committee: ice cold beverages, cold orange slices, live band music, anything. But, no one was there. A few riders came in after me as I put my bike away, and I was glad I'd bothered to pack a cooler in my car and downed yet more Gatorade. Somewhat anti-climactic after finishing my first Century. Nonetheless, I managed a little, "Hell, YES! I did it."

I topped things off when I got home with a 22-minute ice bath. Why 22 minutes you ask? Because I honestly forgot I was in an ice bath while reading a magazine.

The one thing I wished I'd brought more than anything in the world? Lip balm.