Saturday, March 29, 2008

5K PR today!

25:23 was my time for Saturday's (3/29) somewhat hilly race in Harrisonburg, beating my former personal record (5 years ago) by 22 seconds. I was the 14th female (out of 300) and the 50th runner (out of 452); and first in the 50 year old female group. The race netted $8,300 for the Shenandoah Valley Autism Partnership.

During the awards ceremony, I was sandwiched amongst friends when my name was called. Granddaughter Eliza, when talking about her own personal experience with being lauded praise in public, said it well, "It's embarrassing. I don't like being the center of attention."

I had to agree! Yet I was glad that I won, and glad that being the center of attention was for something good. And having my friends alongside me, clapping and cheering for me, that, too, was nice. . .

Runners are such a supportive, encouraging group.

On Sunday I ran another 5K. "What? are you crazy?" another runner said, as most runners don't race two days in a row. That time was 26:08, a bit slower, even though the Bridgewater course was "flat and fast." The course may have have been "flat and fast," but this runner was tired and a bit slow.

I liken the back-to-backs as speedwork for the Half, it's just that the rest between the two 5K intervals was a bit over 24 hours, instead of the usual one-lap-walk break between intervals. And this race was a lot faster than the 5K I did in September at a pace of 10:11 per mile. The hard work IS paying off.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Virtual Friends and Real Time Friends

My virtual running buddy now has his own blog where he is logging his journey toward his first half. Now our contact won't be limited to voice mail messages left on the other's phones, and intermittant e-mails when he happens to be at the library. This is thanks to his brother who bought a home computer and Internet access. And somehow that makes him feel closer, and better connected.

I also feel more connected to my real time running friends, now that we've done a couple months of club runs together. I've found my spot in the group -- at the back of the pack till the last mile or two. I get a tempo run in this way, and also have someone to talk with most of the way. There's not much talking on my part though, mostly just heavy, hard breathing! At one point last week, running alongside a four-lane highway, I ran sandwiched between two guys. To me, anyway, it seemed obvious that they felt a need to protect me somewhat. I chuckled at the thought of me, between these two macho guys. Scenes from movies flashed through my brain . . . the lady "in distress" running from or to whatever or whomever, with the muscular macho guy or guys alongside. It seemed almost surreal at first, and then I realized it also felt good. I felt cocooned, safe. Where I used to run (before my February move) the only thing that came that close to me were rude and careless motorists who seemed to see how close they could get without hitting me, or huddles of pedestrians who thought they needed the entire sidewalk to themselves and refused to share.

At one point on Tuesday's run, Ken though he'd draft off me for a spell, said as such, slowed down and ducked in behind me. That lasted all of about 30 seconds.

"You're too short," he observed.

Ahh yes, my 5'2 (almost), 115 pound frame doesn't block much wind. Instead the gusts of wind knocked me around a bit, making my course a bit unsteady. We decided it would be better for me to draft off him, and I then moved in behind.

Things like the height, weight and stride length all become so very evident when regularly running with others. Running alongside others brings a unique intimacy. I know who will burst from the start full of energy and end barely spent. I can often tell who's coming up behind me by the sound of their pant for air, or the slap of their feet. I can identify those in front by their running style -- the way they pump their arms, hold their head and lift their feet.

Yet should I meet these same folks on the street in everyday clothes doing everyday things, I'm not sure I'd recognize them. Runners, like cyclists have this odd expression, "I'm sorry; I didn't recognize you with your clothes on." But the lack of recognition is about more than switching tights and shorts for dress pants or jeans; more than the switch from wind-tossed to finely combed hair, or a switch to skin no longer covered in sweat. No, it's their reaction to the stress of running that identifies them, that makes them unique -- qualities hidden during the course of the daily routine. My first running coach used to say that running is mental, that your mind quits before your body does. And it's way a runner struggles to overcome the mind that makes each one unique, for each one has their own way of beating their body into submission.

Slog on, my friends. And do let me see you sweat; for then I'll know what makes you uniquely you.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

12 Miles today . . .

Sheep and cattle at a distance. Lots of rolling pasture land and panoramic views of the mountains.

As has become the pattern over the last few weeks, Butch (my neighbor and a 37-time marathoner) plans the route during the week before the long runs. We head out with him calling out left or right. And then somewhere between the 7- and 8- mile mark, he'll say something to the effect, "It's almost time for you to take off. You're going to . . .," and he'll describe the rest of the route. And then he slacks off a bit, and I speed up.

Except to yank off my shirt when I got hot, I ran the whole way and was sad when the run was over. 12 miles in 2:04:30, or about 10:20 pace. Now I know I can do 13. . .barring injury or illness.

Next week is a recovery week -- fewer miles, easier pace, and two 5k (3 mile) races (one on Saturday and one on Sunday).

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Runabouts...

I read, on the Runners World web site, about runabouts. The idea comes out of the Australian walkabout. The author suggested that a person just take off running, and then stop to walk when tired, and then run some more -- not logging times or clocking times -- just running and running, seeing if you can stay outside and on your feet all day.

I found the idea intriguing, having been out on my bicycle all day before. And I thought, wow! no worry about flat tires, or broken bicycle parts. I got an itch to try it. . .and then I thought, "by the end of the day you'd do a marathon distance."

And then I laughed. I promised a co-worker once that I wouldn't run farther than 10 miles. But once there I realized a half-marathon was only three miles more. Then last night I was actually thinking I'd enjoy a runabout. . .

And my sister told me I was insane (yup! that's the exact term) when I told her about Saturday's 11-mile-run.

Insane or not, the more I think about it, the more I think I'd like to try a runabout -- just wandering, outside, all day. No times. Just enjoying the fresh air. Sounds rather relaxing to me. The way I'd do it is I'd run until the scenery overwhelmed me. Then I'd stop and snap some photos. And then I'd run some more. . .

Coming back...

I did 1600s last night, three of them -- 8:30, 8:20 and 8:15. I haven't done that pace since January 2005. It had just rained, and was 58 degrees.

I also received the times from the Shamrock 5K Trail Run, the first weekend in March; and tallied 27:44. Placement: 10th out of 24 overall, the 2d female, and the first female over 50. And that's about 25 seconds per mile faster than any race this year. It helped, though, that it was fairly warm (mid-40s) and raining. I always run better just after or during a rain, when the air is clean.

Five more weeks till the Half...

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Cattle, sheep and goats, oh my!

11 miles Saturday through the rural roads around the outskirts of Broadway. My friend Butch, who's run 37 marathons, planned the route and paced me for seven miles before we parted ways (he still chalked up a total of 10 miles).
In the beginning the scenery made the running hard. I wanted to stop and kiss the cows, pet the sheep and goats, admire the mules and explore an old stone spring house--not because of lung or leg pain (yet anyway! but just because . . .). If I'd have had a camera on me, and could have taken photos, I am sure the temptation to shoot the scenery WOULD have been too much. But I kept going, the carrot of the upcoming 13 Miler dangling in my mind's eye just five weeks ahead of me.
At about an hour I realized I hadn't walked yet, and my thigh muscles were shouting as I climbed another hill. And then it dawned on me. . .I was noticing my legs, and not my lungs. Whenever I noticed I was starting to breathe hard, I slowed a bit, and then drew in long, slow breaths, and then released the air as slowly as I could -- cleansing breaths. That, too, worked. . .slowing and relaxing my system. Today I blew a 400 on my peak flow meter; I've never gotten over 350 before. So the old lungs are continuing to heal.
Moreover I ran the whole 1 hour, 54 minutes (about a 10:23 pace) without any walking breaks. Since a bad fall in December 2003, I've taken walk breaks on every run greater than five miles.
At mile 10 I thought, I just need to walk for a minute. And then I heard my running coach, from a tape recording in my brain, "Ten minutes. The time it takes to push a baby out. Push." And I said to myself, "Deliver the baby, Nete. Deliver the baby." And I kept running. . .And at 10 1/2 miles, I repeated, "Five more minutes. Push, Nete, push. Deliver that baby. Push, Nete, push. Deliver the baby" And it worked. Mantras can be a good thing.
My virtual NY running partner was full of praise when he returned my voice mail message yesterday. Though in the past he's teased me stating, "I'll leave you in my dust;" his return message ended, "I think you're going to give me a run for my money." I still think he'll be amazed at the progress he's made. . .there's no fair way of comparing times and miles ran in snow and cold with those run in Virginia rain and temps in the mid-40s to 50s.
Slog on, my friends, slog on!

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Milestones

Five and a half weeks to go before the half-marathon, and training is going well.

My NY virtual running partner is slogging on, although snow and ice storms, and a cold moved his recovery week, originally scheduled for this week, up a few days. Like me, he's following a training plan from Runners' World. Unlike me, he's following it exactly, while I've been adapting mine tremendously -- using club runs on Tuesday for tempo work, weekend races for speed work, and then cramming in long distance and easy runs whenever I can.

I've run three Saturday races in a row, for a total of 11 races in my running career. My 5K mile pace is now around 9:21. My race partner says I'm reaching the finish line farther ahead of him each time. I ran a 5 miler with a Club member a couple weeks ago, and he said I'm improving as well. Statistics agree. A year ago I was running at a 10-11 mile pace, and only running 6 to 7 miles a week. So that's encouraging.

In a race three Saturdays ago, I ended up running solo for a spell. That often happens, as I'm faster than the back of the pack but slower than the middle. With no one in view, and no heavy breathing from runners behind, I actually forgot I was racing, got lost in thought (ADHD). I still managed about a 9:21 pace. And that was an enjoyable run.

The Saturday after that was my toughest one in a long time; my asthma flared up and remained out of control for several minutes. It was in the mid-30s, and windy, the worst weather conditions for me. Snow flurries danced. I nearly quit at the half-way point. Since the course necessitated running around the same loop two times, it would have been easy to have just stopped at the half-way point. But I finished, slogging into the finish with a 9:32 pace, my slowest this year. My lungs are feeling great again now though; I think I also had a cold.

Last Saturday's race though was in shorts in pouring rain on a trail -- and, I think, my favorite race so far. But then it seems that I say that at the end of every race. Nonetheless, because of allergies, I always do better when running in the rain. The pollen and dust are reduced. The air is clean. It felt so good to be running in shorts again. The freedom to just fly.

My last long distance run was 10 miles in 1:45:00 (10 minute mile pace). My half marathon training plan says this is the right pace for a 9:30 Half Marathon, which would bring me to a finish of just over two hours. The view on that run though was fantastic -- around the North Fork of the Shenandoah, through a grove of trees, up and down hills, through quaint little Timberville -- always with the mountains in view. That 10-minute ten miler was 2 minutes, 33 seconds faster than the October Staunton Ten Miler. Hmmm...can I knock off another 37 seconds and get the Half done in two hours?

We'll see...five weeks to go!