Milestones

Today's 16 miler sort of sucked: it was raining, windy, 37 degrees, and I was unexpectedly without my long run partner in crime, which meant I had no one with whom I could talk shit about other people.


Despite being water logged and perilously close to swimming in the East River thanks to a stiff breeze, forward motion kept me relatively warm, so when I stopped running, I was so cold that I had to buy a hoodie to stave off hypothermia.  Then I took it with me into the bathroom of the nail salon to strip off my sopping wet running shirt, which I tied around my waist, put the hoodie over my sports bra, and proceeded to get my nails done looking like a homeless person.


While such behavior was a milestone (errr, low point) in my quest to be efficient in my Saturday time management, my questionable public hygiene is actually not what I'm writing about today.  I'm actually here to boast about how awesome I am, for March 2012 was my highest mileage month ever.

I beat March 2011 by 10 miles!  Also, you'll note that last year, I ran almost 100 fewer miles in April than I did in March.  I think I gave up on life after the Boston Marathon last year.  Good thing I have this new hoodie, in case I decide to give up on life again.

Thighlights

After a rest day yesterday, my left hip and upper leg are somewhat more tender. This is, I can only assume, a result of my poking/prodding/massaging/stretching/foam rolling them to within an inch of their lives over the last several days. That said, running is a state in which I have no hip sensitivity (that getting up from desk chair after sitting for an extended period is a state in which I definitely do have sensitivity further supports my assessment that this is a tight and shortened IT band/piriformis/some other muscle in there ailment). And so, I decided to move forward with the last scheduled track workout of this training period: mile repeats.

These were my splits:

6:26, 6:31, 6:36.

Yes, in that order.

Not ideal.

That these were poorly paced is a result of user error (me) and not structural error (my hip). That these were poorly paced is also why I caution against running mile repeats during the taper, when you're already over analyzing everything (see: my hip) and convincing yourself you're slow, fat, underprepared, infected with Legionnaire's disease, or pregnant. But despite their being paced exactly opposite the way they should have been, I'm not losing sleep over this workout (though I lose sleep over everything else because, hello, taper insomnia!). They were all well below my maximum pace as allowed by McMillan (6:50), and were my fastest set ever, even if they weren't my most consistent (they were not). Also, I ate gummy worms for lunch, so really, what can I expect? While not my proudest moment, today's workout is complete, and with it, Boston speed work is done too.

So where does that leave us? Well, I don't know about you, but it leaves me watching Say Yes To The Dress with an ice pack down my pants. Not a bad Friday night, really.

Taper Pains, and Not

It's always something.  Usually, a sharp, stabbing, but brief pain.  You think "my God, I'm injured, but the pain doesn't manifest itself for long enough for me to diagnose it as an ankle tumor/ebola of the shin/open dislocation of the subtalar joint (thanks for adding that one to my medial diagnosis capabilities, Joba Chamberlain).  And then the next time you run, it's something else.  Sciatica, meningitis, Bell's palsy.  


I've trained for 13 marathons and never once gotten through the taper without fabricating some type of last-minute injury in my brain.  Or brain injury.  Yes, the taper makes you that neurotic.


The way to distinguish "taper pain" from "not" is simple.  Does it persist when you stop running?  Is it consistent over more than one run?  Sounds like it's in the "not" category.  A real, live, non-imagined pain.  And guess what I have!


I started noticing some pain in my left hip last weekend, right at the iliac spine of my pelvis (that's the top of the wing part; don't forget I took anatomy in college and studied under the tutelage of a random ER doctor from the local hospital who was brought in for the term and had no interest in whether or not we learned anything, combined with the Anatomy Coloring Book).

"Pain" wasn't really the right word for it.  Maybe, tightness?  Definitely tied to weight bearing on my left side.  Not sore to the touch.  Not noticeable during a run, but more pronounced immediately after.  Responsive to Advil (still no word on booze).  I was able to run 21 miles on it, no problem on Sunday, but became aware of it after that. Almost like I slept on it wrong.  It's wasn't so much an injury or threat to my Boston Marathon (famous last words...) as it was an annoyance. And given that I felt it before the taper even started, I began to think that this was not just a taper pain.


So I did what any runner/20-something who came of age in the internet era would do: Googled my symptoms.

Hmm, the tensor fasciae latae, you say? (I didn't actually say it, because I'm not sure how it's pronounced). 

You know how Kevin Bacon is said to be the nexus of all films?  Well the IT band is the nexus of all running ailments.  And what do you know, the IT band connects right there to the TFL (made that acronym up myself)!

Conveniently, I've been through my fair share of lower leg PT, so I have quite a few IT band treatments up my sleeve.  I spent almost as long stretching and foam rolling at the gym last night as I did actually running.  And I didn't just work the IT band either, but the piriformis (the one that goes butt-to-hip and SCREAMS when you sit on a tennis ball, which you would do for treatment and not fetishism, you creep), hamstrings, and adductors too.  Everything in there.  Everything gets stretched and rolled!  I don't care that it looks like I'm pleasuring myself by rolling my pelvis on a hard foam tube while letting out soft moans in front of everyone else at the gym.  We've got less than 3 weeks to get this body running smoothly!

Ever had a tensor fasciae latae issue?  Got any more tips for me?  Ever taken a class whose textbook was a coloring book solely because you had a crush on a hockey player who was also taking it, and subsequently made it known to him the last week of college that you valued his human anatomy, immediately before the Last Chance Dance, whose purpose was exactly what you think it was?  Nope, me either.

Drunken Logic on Going Sober

People actually don’t often ask me why I go sober before certain marathons.  Certainly, some people have asked, but most people just take it at face value.  Claire’s running a marathon in a month, so she’s not drinking until then.

The thing is, that doesn’t really make sense.

As I mentioned on Sunday, it would make more sense if I stopped drinking for the peak mileage weeks of training; without the distractions of beer, I would sleep better, wake up earlier, and be better hydrated to tackle big mileage and tough speed work.  But I keep on drinking through all that, and instead start drying out just before I find myself with a lot of time on my hands during the taper.  Time that could be spent drinking.  So why do I do this?

What you are about to read –  my sober “rationale” – reads like a drunk’s argument.  It is flawed and full of holes and inconsistencies, and I apply it only when it’s convenient to me.  So obviously if you’re looking for well-founded marathon training advice, you’ve come to the right place!

My “reasoning” is based on my storied history with running and booze.  The sobriety thing hasn’t been around since my first marathon.  And it isn’t something I do for every race.  But the first time I did it (Philly, 2007), I had a good race.  So I did it again before Chicago 2009, and I had another good race.  So I did it again before Wineglass 2010, and I had another good race.  And so forth.  But I realized my results could have been a result of coincidence, serendipity, or, you know, training, so I developed some “science” to apply to my thinking, retroactively.  Because I am an ethical researcher.

So now when people ask why I stop drinking, I say it’s because I want to get down to race weight, which is certainly true.  But it’s a little disingenuous to imply that I’m sobering up for weight management, when I ate an ice cream cone for dinner last night (chocolate chip cookie dough).  I also say being sober makes you sleep more soundly, which any drunk who’s ever passed out will allege cannot possibly be true.  It is, actually; drunken sleep is less restorative than sober sleep.  But I get terrible insomnia during the taper, so I’m not particularly restored.

So why, then, do I do this to myself?  What is the criteria for determining which races will drive me to un-drink? And what are the terms of this self-imposed sentence?

To answer the former, there is something to be said for the comfort aroused through a good luck charm.  “I’ve done this before, and good things happened,” I think to myself, “so I will do it again and good things will happen.”  It’s kind of like my Brooks racing hat, which I’ve worn in every marathon since my first.  Of course, I don’t sit around on my ass for 12 weeks eating Cadbury Cream Eggs and think that 4 weeks of sobriety and a hat is the same thing as 16 weeks of marathon training.  I spent 8 hours running last week, for Christsake.  But coupled with training, sobriety is a sort of talisman for me.

There’s also something to be said for the power of sacrifice.  This is going to sound borderline sadistic, but sometimes depriving yourself of something you really, truly enjoy that reminds you of what you’re working towards.  I think this is the theory behind giving up something for Lent, but I’m not a religious person, so I can’t really speak to this point.  Also, drawing a vague parallel between not being stinking drunk and dying on a cross probably makes everyone reading this uncomfortable, so let’s move on.

As for the criteria for which races get the sober treatment, it is (like the rest of this half-brained theory) subjective.  First of all, it’s only for the marathon.  This is because the marathon is the only race distance I really care about and train for, which itself doesn’t make much sense.  But anyway.  If it’s an “important” marathon – one in which I’m attempting a PR – I’ll go dry, for a period of 4-6 weeks beforehand.  Except last fall, when I didn’t want to not drink while on vacation, so I went dry for a week, drank beers every day for a week, then went dry again for two weeks. 

If it’s a race I’m running for the experience, I usually try not to drink the night before.  Except for the times when I do, with the rationale that you don’t want to stray from your usual routine the night before a marathon.

In conclusion, I make up the rules as I go along, without regard to logic.  So far it’s worked.  Why mess with mediocrity?

Sunday Wrap: TGITaper

Happy taper to me! And not a moment too soon. I spent 8 hours and 9 minutes running this week. 8 hours! That's a work day (or a half-day for IMan)! That's 4 feature films! That's 16 episodes of Seinfeld, with commercials! That's a drive from New York City to Caribou, Maine (not that one would want to go there, in a car or otherwise). And even more astounding, that doesn't include:

- walking, which I do a lot of and consider cross training (shut your mouth, it counts)
- lifting, which I did one day this week because my arms look like noodles and also because there is a TV in my parents' basement "fitness center" and I wanted to watch reruns of Friends uninterrupted and without having to engage in adult conversation
- stretching, which I do because it feels good
- time spent putting on compression socks, which takes approximately 40 minutes per foot

8 hours and 9 minutes of nothing but running. And if it weren't abundantly clear, I am pretty sure I'm dying of exhaustion. I had to take a nap at 10:00am yesterday. How in the hell does any non-professional runner manage to run a single mile more than what I did this week?

And speaking of...

Number of Miles Run This Week: 57. That ties my record weekly mileage. It's also my 4th week in a row of 50+ miles, something I've never done before. Come hell or high water, I'm running no more than 49 miles next week, and I'm sleeping in at least one day next weekend.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 0.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: n/a.

I think the main reason I had 8 hours available for running this week is because I didn't drink any beers. It would make more sense, then, to go dry for the 4 weeks before the taper, when I'm maximizing my mileage, and not the 4 weeks before the race, when I'm tapering and have nothing better to do for the last 3 weeks than drink beers. In case it weren't apparent, there is little science behind my sobriety plan, but that's a story for another blog post.

Marathonniversary

5 years ago tomorrow, I ran my first marathon.  I know I just spent a blog post talking about how I'm sick of marathon training, but lest you think I'm 100% a jaded New Yorker, I shall indulge in some nostalgia.


I celebrated my Wooden Anniversary with the sport of marathoning a day early during my morning run today.  There's a joke to be made about morning wood in there, but I'll leave that to you.


Anyway, I dug up the t-shirt from my first foray into marathoning (cotton, short sleeved, with no date on it), threw it on, and set out for a nice easy 8 miler.  And chafed the shit out of my neck and arms, because I guess 5 years ago, the people organizing the Wirefly National Marathon were unfamiliar with technical fabric.


As I was running, I thought a bit about my illustrious marathon career, and the progress I've made over the last 5 years.  I ran that first marathon in 4:22. I ran my PR marathon last fall in 3:24.  Cutting almost an hour off my marathon time seems pretty badass, until I reveal that my second marathon was completed in 4:01, and it took me another 4 tries to finally go under 4 hours.  


Moving on.  Here is a photo from that first marathon:

There I am!  I'm so enthusiastic!  Sweet heel strike... And look at me wasting energy by fist-pumping and contorting my face as I acknowledge my friends Kelly and Megan.  Lots of my friends and family came all the way down to DC to watch me in that race.


For comparative purposes, here is a photo from my most recent marathon:

There I am!  I seem slightly less enthusiastic here.  But I'm still contorting my face.  Old habits die hard, I guess.  You'll note there are no other people in this picture.  No one came to Smuttynose except IMan, who was also running, finished first, and went immediately back to the hotel instead of waiting (fine, it would have been in the freezing wind and pouring rain...) to cheer me in to the finish.  (Also, how serious are they about the "STRICTLY PROHIBITED" thing?)


Lastly, here is a picture of me, just out for a run in Central Park on Sunday:

There I am!  Look at my abs!  Look at my legions of adoring fans!  Look for me on upcoming covers of Runner's World!  Ignore the fact that my bib says "Kara" on it...


Here's to many more marathonniversaries!  I think.

Further Thoughts on Being Over It

As I touched upon this morning, I’m pretty much over this whole “training” thing. While I was definitely psyched after my track session last night, I also wished that, rather than being a marathon prediction workout, Yasso 800s were the actual marathon. I averaged about a 3:14. Can’t we just use that as my new marathon PR and be done with this?


But that one blog post wasn't nearly enough whining.  So without further ado, here is a list of marathon training-related things I'm tired of:

- Buying sneakers. Do you know how many pairs of sneakers are in my bedroom right now? 5. I have neither an apartment large enough to house 5 pairs of sneakers, nor an income large enough to support the purchase of sneakers every 8 weeks. But for all the excellent qualities of Saucony Kinvaras, they don’t hold up much past 200 or 250 miles. 

- Compression gear. It’s too bad this stuff is so effective, because it is both prohibitively expensive and a bitch to put on. I can barely fit my arm into a compression sock to turn it right side out, let alone wrestle it on to my muscled calves. Pretty much the only parts of my body that don’t need compression at this point in training are my hands, but thanks to Speedy Sasquatch and Tommie Copper, I am the proud owner of fingerless compression gloves as well. In case in the off-season, I decide to give up running and become a furious masturbator, I suppose.


- Laundry. I’m in my fourth consecutive 50+ mile week. All that running means I’m burning through running clothes faster than I can do drop off my laundry to be done. This morning, I had to resort to an old Under Armor sports bra, which chafed the hell out of out me.


- On that note, I’m also tired of bodily wear-and-tear. I have random chafed spots on my chest, arms, and stomach. The soles of my feet look like fried chicken. I lose tremendous amounts of hair because my ponytail gets so sweaty and ratty while I'm running and I don’t have the patience to delicately remove my hair ties. Even my nose is raw from blowing so many snot rockets.


- Time management. Today was the first morning since daylight savings began that I was able to get myself out for a run by 6:15am, so here’s hoping this will make the time management thing easier, but CHRIST WHY DO WE HAVE TO WAKE UP SO EARLY?  When can we sleep in?!  Not on the weekends, because we have to run for multiple hours and miles.  So when, then?  April?!  That's not good enough, damnit!  I'm tired of being roused from sleep so early, and I’m sick of having to plan my other obligations around my runs. 


- And speaking of other obligations, I’m tired of sobriety. I have 2 work events tonight (which is why I mustered the energy to run this morning). Both offer open bars. And I’m on day 4 of sobriety. It’s exhausting.

Nailed It. Can We Stop Running Now?

Last session of Yasso 800s last night: 3:11, 3:10, 3:14, 3:14, 3:16, 3:14, 3:16, 3:13.   


BOOM.


Okay, in all honesty, these skewed more towards "I'm definitely going to barf," than "I feel like a badass," while I was running.  And I had to lie to myself after the first 4 and say "fine, this sucks, but just do one more."  4 times.  And a bird shat on my arm while I was running my warm up miles.  But I finished what I consider my last key workout, and spent 8 miles recovering this morning, and now just three more runs stand between me and the taper.  


BOOM.


One of them is a 22 miler.  And even after the taper starts, I still have mile repeats on the schedule next week.  Oh my God, why does marathon training take so long?


BOO.

Monday Wrap Up: So Long, Old Friend

Well that's a shame.

On the plus side, I did imbibe quite a few interesting beers this week, like a bear preparing for hibernation. If bears drank beers. And if the winter was 4 weeks long. And if the last 4 weeks of marathon training involved nothing but sleeping. And I shat in the woods.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 52. Good God, I'm tired. I've basically been living in compression socks for a month. Last week marks my third consecutive 50+ mile week, and 152 miles in 20 days. That makes it sound like I should have Kara Goucher's body. Having seen her yesterday during the NYC Half, I assure you, I do not. I'm much taller, and that's definitely the only difference, especially in the abdominal area, the end.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 10? I wish I could have found more time to drink this week, but there didn't seem to be enough hours in the day, what with all the running and my newfound total inability to wake up and run before work. Thank goodness for the New York Rogue Runners' Gallway Gallop this weekend, during which I significantly upped my weekly intake. Though it was a drink-run-drink-run-drink event, I didn't even participate. I just drank for moral support. I was likewise tempted to offer support to racers in Sunday's NYC Half via surreptitious public beer consumption, but I had plans for a late-day long run with the IMan. The fact that the NYC Half began at 7:30am had no bearing on my decision. As it were, the participants didn't even need it and AbbeLew ran like a 5 hour PR. NBD.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Pork Slap Pale Ale, Cooperstown Pride of Milford (no good), Lagunitas IPA, Guinness, Sam Adams Alpine Spring, Leinenkugel's Russian Imperial Stout (this was the color and consistency of iodine, and made me scared to drink it), and Bud Light.

You guys, it is nearly upon us. One month from today, in Boston, I'll be doing something I truly love yet again.

And I'll also run the Boston marathon.

See you not at the bar.

My New Favorite Run: The 10 Mile Break

I'm actually sort of digging this evening 10-mile-break-from-work thing I've been doing lately.  It's a simple concept: I work all day, then take a break to run 5 miles down to Battery Park, then turn around and run 5 miles back to my office.  The only part I'm not that into is the part where the "break" ends and the "work" begins anew...  But when I'm slammed with deadlines, as I have been over the past several weeks, it's nice to a) get up from my desk in the evening, b) go for a run down the West Side (this week: in warm weather, and before the sun sets), and c) return to my desk with renewed... well, if not enthusiasm, then at least with renewed ability to proofread my own grant applications.  It seems to be working out quite well. 


Well, that's not entirely true.  Probably running 10 miles fueled by 4 cans of Diet Coke with Lime and whatever snack-like pastries Starbucks has been dishing up that day is not ideal.  Those mini Cherry Pies that Starbucks has recently started serving are definitely ideal.


Also, tonight I very nearly got hit by a car during this 10 mile break.  Granted, it was almost entirely my fault, but if you're a car, don't slow down to a crawl as I step out into the crosswalk, then floor the accelerator precisely at the moment I am equidistant from the safety of either curb and directly in front of your vehicle.  Especially when I am taking a break from working long hours on overly complicated grant proposals and am using my run as an opportunity to not inflict bodily harm on strangers I encounter in the office elevators.  It's for your own safety, really.


Oh, and in addition to that kid whose grandma killed a mountain lion, there tend to be a lot of people outside who usually are totally normal, but sometimes are smoking drugs or publicly humping one another, which makes me feel kind of turned on uncomfortable, I swear I meant uncomfortable.


And one day earlier this week I took my 10 mile break and then went back to work and forgot to eat anything (Starbucks closed after I ate all their pies earlier in the day, I guess) and then was both so exhausted and so hungry when I got home I felt acutely nauseous, to the point where I figured I was pregnant, and my fetus had the norovirus.


But besides those things, this 10 mile break thing is working out pretty well...

On Eavesdropping

Nothing interesting ever happens when I run in Prospect Park. I suspect this is because I'm usually doing it in the 6am hour, and the only other people in the Park at that time are other weekend warrior-type fitness fanatics such as myself, and we, by nature, are not interesting. I mean, not so uninteresting that I would feel foolish, say, detailing the inner workings of my runs and alcohol consumption in increasingly repetitive blog pots, but not especially noteworthy. No one is wearing any funny outfits, no one is telling any stories, no one is smoking any drugs.

Things are different when I run along the Hudson.

In part, it's because I'm doing it after work, and more people are out at 6pm than at 6am. In part, it's because the Hudson River Greenway is a multi-use park, dotted with benches and picnic tables and skate parks and tennis courts and other places to congregate/publicly mount one another/smoke drugs. But mostly, it's because after a full day of activity, people have a lot to say to each other.

Think about it: you wake up at 5:45am, get dressed, and go running. Even if you're meeting a running partner, which I usually am not, you don't have a lot to say to them, beyond describing your dreams, which is among the most self-involved activities on earth (second to writing a blog). But by 6pm, you've encountered a day's worth of people and activities and meetings in which someone threatened to quit, someone cried, and someone farted. There's so much more to talk about!

So even though I'm still typically alone on my post-work Hudson River runs (I swear I have friends), I benefit from listening to other people's stories. Eavesdropping, if you will. And I will.

That was a lot of background to build up to what will turn out to be a 3 sentence anecdote, but bear with me. Yesterday evening, when I couldn't stand looking at my computer screen for another second, I decided to take a break from work and go for a run to clear my head (and hope that some magical grant writing elves would take up where I left off while I was gone). I got dressed and headed to the Hudson, the one perk of my office's location on 10th Avenue. While I wasn't meeting anyone to whom I could vent my workday frustrations, I had high hopes that this run would turn my mental state around. And it did. Not just because running is a mood-booster, or because it was gorgeous out, or because I saw a beautiful sunset. Because as I ran along the Christopher Street Pier, I heard a teenager say to his friends,

"Bitch, my grandma killed a mountain lion with her bare hands. Shit."

I've never seen a mountain lion on the Hudson River Greenway, but maybe they're in Prospect Park.

Sunday Wrap Up: Spring Has Sprung

So remember when it was like 70 degrees on Thursday, and everyone was all "WE MUST TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS FLUKE WEATHER NOW BY EITHER EXERCISING OUTDOORS OR GETTING INAPPROPRIATELY DRUNK AT HAPPY HOUR!"?


Well it was all Spring-y and shit again today (I both exercised outdoors and drank beers, for the record).  And the week ahead?

Good God, spring has sprung!  


But this presents a terrible conundrum for me. You see, the clock is ticking on my future as a beer-drinker, at least for the time being; this week will be my last fueled by alcohol until after Boston (more on the sober philosophy next week... when I'll have a lot of free time on my hands from not drinking to do things like write about my sober philosophy).  I must drink beers in the evenings!


But this week should also be one dedicated to running a lot; with 2 weeks until the taper begins, this week will see me at the track for mile repeats again (and ooh!  It's short-shorts weather!), along with 4 other scheduled workouts.  I must run after work!


I see only one solution: I must drink at breakfast!*


Number of Miles Run This Week: 50.  I felt waaaaay better this week than last, even though my mileage was the same.  In part, I think it's because I ran 6 times this week versus just 4 last week.  In larger part, I think it's because I drank a shower beer after my 20 miler yesterday and then day-drank at Brother Jimmy's.  Maybe the aroma of frat-boy vomit has magically healing properties.


Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 12.  I have a good number of beers in my fridge and only 7 days left to drink them.  While I trust modern refrigeration technology, I should probably drink them before I go dry for 4 weeks, just to be safe.  Look for this number to go up next week.


Types of Beers Consumed This Week:  My shower beer, which came highly recommended from AbbeLew, was a Magic Hat Spring Seasonal, which I'd never had before, and which was delicious.  I should stock up before next weekend, so I don't miss the window to enjoy more.  I also had a few Sam Adams' Alpine Spring, a few Bud Lights, a few Rolling Rocks (Christ, those are BAD), and a few Brooklyn Lagers.


Happy Spring!  Manage your time wisely.


*Dear Employer: Just kidding.

The Perfect Recovery Plan

After a cold and windy long run, there is no better feeling than that of getting into a hot shower.


Except for the feeling of cracking open a beer before getting into a hot shower.

Whereas Beer-Drinking Has a Gentle Learning Curve...

Yesterday evening after work, every single human being in New York City did one of two things: worked out outside or drank.

We can't help it; warm weather, especially when unseasonable, brings out our instinctual drive to be in the open air, doing what our ancestors did: either be preparing for battle/ barehanded wrestling with wild animals (represented via working out outdoors, and staving off crazy hobos while doing so), or mating (represented by having three too many drinks at happy hour and therefore unbuttoning two too many buttons).

Once upon a time, I was deeply committed to drinking in the great outdoors, during the workweek, on the first nice day of the year (and every nice day thereafter.  And most rainy days as well). 

I was also deeply committed to shopping for a change of clothes before work at Banana Republic the next morning...

And, while Thursday was an unseasonably warm evening, I am an old lady who has trouble keeping my eyes open at the office if I stay awake to watch the Daily Show, let alone sling back Guinness at the PJ Clarke's downtown all night (though the outdoor space there really is quite lovely.  So I've heard...).  And so, I found myself in the outdoor workout camp.

On the agenda: 10 miles with 8 at Goal Marathon Pace.  I've done a few GMP workouts so far this season, and while I've hit my target pace of 7:Forty-something, I've also been on the treadmill.  This is sort of cheating, because it requires no skill beyond forward progress, which is more a function of human survival than a skill, but my beer-logged brain likes to be able to zone out and not have to worry about adjusting or maintaining my pace.  Alas, I don't have access to an outdoor treadmill, and had to heed the call of my ancestors and run outside.  Also, the Boston Marathon is held outside, not on treadmills, so I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to actually try replicating those conditions.  So I snuck out of my office a few minutes early to start my run.

The first, oh, five miles of this run totally sucked.  I couldn't settle into a pace at all, and after hitting a 7:46 first GMP mile (barely out of my target pace range) and a 7:42 second (barely in my target pace range), fought for a 7:24 third mile (barely not vomiting from the effort).  Also, the wind was blowing on me, and not at all in the same fashion the treadmill fan typically blows on me.  And there were no reruns of Seinfeld airing anywhere.  The Boston Athletic Association should really rethink this outside, point-to-point marathon thing.

At some point, I decided that 1) I seriously hated GMP runs, and 2) 4 miles at GMP would be enough for the evening.  Because half of a prescribed work out is ever enough... I hit mile 4 in 7:16 and thought, "Why in God's name am I fighting so hard for a pace which is well faster than GMP?"  And I was.  I'd ease off at the start of each mile, then fight to get my pace down, ultimately ending up ahead of where I should be.  That was stupid. And I'm much more talented at getting drunk outdoors.

Having realized this at mile 4, I decided to go for one more mile.  At 7:19, it was still too fast, and I'd made the same mistake.  I quit!

I made the turn in Battery Park and headed back uptown towards my office, no longer fighting but just running easy and relaxed.  I glanced down at Carl the Garmin and what do you know?  7:35 pace.  "Wait a minute, I think I'm on to something here..."  I decided I'd just keep running comfortably back to my office.  I'd gotten 5 GMP miles in already.  If I got any more in, that would be great, but I wasn't going to fight for them.

Mile 6 - 7:30
Mile 7 - 7:26
Mile 8 - 7:26

What do you know?  Once I stopped fighting with myself and just ran, it came much more easily.  And it's only taken me 5 years of marathoning to learn that lesson.

Thank God I picked up drinking much more quickly.

Lake Waramaug Update

When I registered for the Lake Waramaug 50k, I was required to indicate my choice of post race food from the following:
- Hamburger
- Veggie Burger
- Hot Dog

Am I meant to take this as a good sign, for I (used to?) love hot dogs, or a bad sign, for my only DNF to date has been in a hot dog race?  Discuss.

The Best Laid Plans

So remember how I got all excited back in January to run the NJ Ultra Festival 50k?


Consider my (non-transferrable, non-deferable) registration fee (of $120) a donation, because I won't be there.


Don't fret; nothing bad happened.  Quite the opposite - my friend Liz is getting married and we'll be showering her that afternoon.  And confident as I am in my abilities to run 31 miles on trails in New Jersey in the morning, take a shower, and be presentable and sociable in Westchester in the afternoon (read: not at all confident), there will be other races.


Like the Lake Waramaug Ultra!


So two weeks post-Boston, I'll head up to where ever Lake Waramaug is for a lovely 50k.  It appears to be a scenic race on "slightly rolling" "smooth paved surfaces." Perhaps 31 miles on "smooth paved surfaces" sounds like a terrible race to you, but remember that my only other ultra experience consisted of 9 loops of Central Park. Plus, yesterday morning I tried to run on some of the bridal paths in Prospect Park and wound up with a bloody nose and a pair of Kinvaras full of horse shit, so a paved ultra is just my style.


Now, if only I could address my other failed plan - to win Powerball - so easily...

Sunday Wrap Up: How To Fuel

Normally I'm not one for Garmin shots, because no one cares about your running stats but you, but since I asked you to hold me accountable for today's long run, please see proof of completion above.

As it were, 20+ mile runs go better when one feasts on gnocchi bolognese the night before, as opposed to chips and salsa.

Normally I don't think a whole lot about pre-long run fuel. Self-imposed starvation is not exactly an issue for me (restraint is more of a concern...), so generally speaking, whatever I choose to eat for dinner the night before a long run gets the job done. But I have to think that my paltry "dinner" of stale Tostitos and salsa in my bed on Friday might have been to blame for my failed long run attempt on Saturday. Thankfully, I came out to Connecticut on Saturday night, and my parents show their love through food. I filled up on pasta (and wine) and went to bed early, determine to knock out that 20 miler today.

And what do you know, I did. Despite picking a hilly route (it's hard not to pick a hilly route out here), I felt good throughout my run today, and knocked out 20 miles without complaint. Then I ate an egg and cheese on my way to a brunch, where I ate a burger and fries and had two beers. Because proper re-fueling is also crucial to marathoning success.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 50. That's actually only 4 days of running, instead of the usual 5. Extra rest days feel so good at the time, but realizing you have to cram the miles into fewer days feels less awesome. But then again, bagels covered with peanut butter smothered with potato chips with a side of chocolate chip cookies and spare ribs with extra cheese taste awesome, so let's call it a draw.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 11. Friday night, while I was consuming my depression-era dinner, I should have been drinking beers. I mean I should have also been consuming fresh food with nutrients that didn't cost approximately $0.50 per serving. But in both cases, I was too lazy to go to the kitchen/grocery store/bodega and nourish myself. I bet if I'd had those extra beer calories, I would have had a perfectly fine run on Saturday.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Yuengling, Brooklyn Lager, Captain Lawrence IPA, and another IPA whose name escapes me, but I should find out, because it was quite good. My birthday gift to IMan was that I only had one.

Okay, there's probably something around here that needs eating. Wheat Thins dipped in Nutella with cottage cheese, you say? I'm on it.

On Accountability, and Cartoon Sailors

Last Saturday on my run with AbbeLew, we ran a loop of Prospect Park and then made a pit stop at my apartment for water before continuing on our run over the Brooklyn Bridge.  It worked out quite well.


This Saturday, I was left to my own devices for my run.  I ran 2 loops of Prospect Park and then made a pit stop at my apartment to drop off my jacket before continuing on my run over the Brooklyn Bridge.  Except without AbbeLew, I was unaccountable.  So rather than continuing my run over the Brooklyn Bridge, I did not.


This was stupid for a great many reasons.  The first, of course, is that the 8 miles I ran is 12 less than the 20 I was meant to be running, and I will now have to do those 20 miles tomorrow.  The second is that, had I followed the order of workouts for the week as prescribed in my training plan, I could have avoided this failure altogether, as today was meant to be an easy day and tomorrow a long run day. The third is that, thinking I'd be running for several hours, I set out early in the day, while it was still raining.  Now that I have decided to quit, the sun is just coming out.  Lastly, having been wearing a jacket over my running clothes as protection from the rain that I could have avoided had I committed to an easy run with a late start from the outset, I now have some type of rash from the jacket rubbing against my neck for 8 miles. 


In happier news, my hamstring seems to have made a full recovery (remember how it was tight after I won a race? Also I am an ultramarathoner. Just in case you had forgotten these facts), thanks to an extra rest day.  And 5 beers and spinach and artichoke dip for dinner.  While the hard effort segments of Tuesday's track workout seemed to aggravate it, I was feeling good enough to knock out another Goal Marathon Pace workout yesterday after work: 1 mi w/u, 6.5 @ GMP (7.41, 7:35, 7:30, 7:24, 7:30, 7:35, and whatever half of 7:35 is), 0.5 mi c/d.  Popeye was onto something: spinach is good fuel.  

And I swear like one too...

Alas, one good workout does not a successful marathon make.  So someone come back here tomorrow and hold me accountable for that 20 miler, please.  I can't expect to take home my next victory at Boston without getting my long runs in ever...