Settling into Winter Training in Georgia

Corner Store

On Saturday I ran four loops totaling 15 miles in the rural Georgia town of Cassville while visiting with my in-laws.  On the run I realized that I will be out in the cold, wind and rain a lot in the coming months, and I'm adapting. The 10% chance of rain materialized while the temperature was 40 degrees, and it rained lightly at some times.

Enjoyed passing the sheep until their herding dog expressed his dislike of me.

I enjoyed the new scenery along the two-lane curving roads.  This area has leash laws, so I felt safe from dogs.  Only on my third loop did a dog have a chance to charge at me.  A herding dog ran out of the open gate on its property and came close to me.  I slowed and did not look at it, hoping that the dog was protecting the sheep on the property and not wanting to engage me any more than I wanted to engage with it.  I was fine, but rerouted the end of the run.

The local cemetery is the final resting place for numerous Confederate soldiers killed in battle or as a result of their wounds.

Monday: 7 miles; 9:21 pace + 6 x 100 strides
Tuesday: Day off for Christmas
Wednesday: 8 hilly miles; 8:58 pace
Thursday: 6 miles; 9:25 pace
Friday: Cycling and Yoga; not done (traveling)
Saturday: 15 miles on Roads: 9:19 pace
Sunday: Day Off

Washing my Yoga Pants on a Run

On Wednesday I ran eight hilly miles with a friend at 6AM in the cold rain.  It was raining, dark and 40 degrees when we started.   When I first saw her, I laughed and wondered what we were doing out when most were resting from the previous day's Christmas festivities.  The first half of the run was better than expected, except when the road curved, and the wind hit us with a surprisingly cold gust.

My friend and I parted ways at around four miles when she ventured farther to make hers a 10 miler.  It was then that the light ran turned into a downpour.  I wondered how she could keep running in the other direction and away from the warmth of our homes.  The first half of our course has more uphills, so making the way home, downhill, is more pleasant  -- except for on this morning.

I've been running for just over six years, and I don't think I've experienced such miserable running conditions.  I have run in the rain.  I don't balk at that, but this was cold, cold rain.  A drenching rain.  My pants stuck to my legs, and I felt like I was carrying extra pounds of water.  I had worn my running jacket designed for temperatures under 40 degrees; it is water resistant, but not waterproof.  I don't run in these types of conditions enough to justify purchasing waterproof outerwear.

On my return trip home, I thought that this is a treadmill type of morning.  If I had to, I would run eight miles on a treadmill.  I do not own a treadmill.  I don't think I would want to unless I lived in a colder climate.  My house doesn't have room for such a large piece of equipment, and I have a Y membership.  I can run on a treadmill at the Y, but it was closed for the Christmas Holiday.

Distracted by my Garmin and still running in the dark (and alone at this point), I made a wrong turn and ran about 200 meters in the wrong direction. I was soaked, cold and lost.   I stood disoriented wondering what to do and hoped I could retrace my steps and and get back on track.  This was at 5.5 miles.  My momentum was gone.  I wanted to stop and be home. I tried to find humor in it all.

Early morning runs during the Christmas Season have bright points.  I caught Santa at this house.

I was short on mileage at the end, so I ran back out and found myself running toward my training partner.  We couldn't believe the turn the weather had taken.  She said that all she could do was laugh about such a miserable run.  I felt the same way.  As we parted, she pointed out that I had soap bubbles on my pants.  Yes, soap bubbles.  My knees were foaming as if I were in a washing machine.  She laughed and laughed.  And, I did, too.  This was a first.  We laughed some more as we stopped to take a picture of my pants.  I was foaming in other areas that were touching my skin.  Bizarre.  When I made it home I realized that I had mistaken my yoga pants for my running pants. That's a first, too.  And, I hope it's my last run for a while in the cold rain.

It's hard not to find humor all along this run.

Boston Training: Week Three

This week Winter weather set in during training.  On Tuesday I ran at 6AM in shorts; on Saturday I ran at 9AM bundled in layers and gloves.  The wind was fierce during the Saturday long run, but my area was spared from the Blizzard that affected some parts of the country.

I was grateful for company on some runs this week.  When I ran alone, I couldn't help reflecting on the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut.  I have felt sorrow and anger.  In Yoga, I wasn't able to stay in the moment when focusing on my breath and lungs expanding because in crept intrusive thoughts of small children's lives ending, their lungs, hearts and other vital organs being injured to the point of death.  I imagined their final moments while I moved through poses on cue using my body and lungs.

This week I have loved my children more fiercely than ever.  My youngest is six-years-old, the age of many of the victims.  I was in her first-grade classroom twice this week, once volunteering for centers and once for her year-end cultural celebration.  Each one of her classmates is even more precious to me.  And, my fifth grader is now aware that we live in an unpredictable and cruel world.

We are beginning a time of family togetherness this Christmas week.  I will enjoy spending time with my family and will travel to visit extended family.  My training plan will be somewhat disrupted, but I am thankful that I have these wonderful people with which to share my life.  I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

This past week of training:
Monday:  5 miles rolling hills at 9:34 pace
Tuesday:  Track Tempo Run; 2 miles warm up, 4 miles at 7:57 pace, one mile cool down
Wednesday:  Day off
Thursday:  7 miles general aerobic run on rolling hills at 9:13 pace
Friday:  Cycling + Yoga
Saturday: 13 miles of rolling hills at 9:32 pace
Sunday:  Rest

Where Did She Go?

This week I had tea with a friend who is training to run the Boston Marathon.  She reminded me that a year-and-a-half ago, I sat relaxed in a comfortable chair in a friend's living room and stated that if I made it to Boston, I was going to enjoy the run and take in the scenery.

Where did that woman go? She sounds like someone with whom I'd like to spend time and share runs. She was calm and confident and simply seeking a wonderful new experience.  I would be drawn to such a person and think that I'd like to qualify so that I could enjoy the sights and sounds along the famous course.

That woman has been replaced by a strange, competitive runner who has no one to compete against except herself.  She reads books, articles and blog posts about the Boston Marathon and adheres closely to a training schedule designed for speed from Hopkinton to the finish line.

Training last week:
Monday:  6 miles; 9:21 average pace on rolling course
Tuesday: weights
Wednesday: Steady negative run; 7 rolling miles; 8:49 average pace
Thursday:  5 miles;  9:15 pace, (forgot to do 8 strides) plus weights
Friday:  cycling/yoga (had conflict in schedule, so not completed)
Saturday:  12 miles; 9:23 average pace on rolling course

First Week of Boston Training

This has been an eventful first week of training, and I have three areas on which to report:  coaching, training, and attending a workshop.

First, my coach is no longer coaching as she used to, but she will assist me with my training.  No more second guessing.  I will follow her training plan for me to the best of my ability and have confidence that I prepared in the best way possible when I go into the race.

Training this past week:
Monday:  4 miles, easy
Tuesday:  2 mile warm up + 5 miles of alternating 3 minutes up tempo and 2 minute jogs
Wednesday:  rest (I had scheduled weight training.  Which excuse would you like?)
Thursday:  5 miles, easy
Friday:  cycling class + yoga class
Saturday:  11 miles at 9:15 to 9:45 pace
Sunday:  workshop

Today I attended a Good Running Form Workshop presented by New Balance at Fleet Feet in Raleigh.  As a result, I am humbled.  Seven other women and I were video taped using an exclusive running application on an iPad, and we learned our number of foot strikes per minute.  To run fast, easy and injury free, runners should aim for a cadence of 180 foot strikes per minute.  We were all around 150, which we were told is where most runners are. The humbling part for me is that I worked on this briefly in the Spring.  I thought I would be closer to 180.  So, now I have even more work to do during training, and I will have many miles during which to practice.

Boston Marathon Training Begins!

"The Legendary Boston Marathon:  the oldest, grandest and most exclusive marathon in the world.  Millions aspire to run Boston, but only 25,000 meet the strict qualifying standards to run a course that is considered one of the toughest in the world.

If you're planning to race Boston, you had better know what you're up against. The course may look innocent, but as experts will tell you, it can be brutal.  If you're not ready, if you don't understand the intricacies of the course, Boston can eat you alive. ( Boston Marathon:  The Legendary Course Guide by Raymond Britt)."

When I aspired to run Boston, I didn't know it is one of the toughest courses -- in the world.  I'd heard of Heartbreak Hill, but until I qualified, I did not know about the other hills that wear out legs before ever reaching the iconic hill.

I've felt nervous anticipation this week while mentally and physically preparing for training.  I'm still not acclimated to the cooler morning temperatures or the super early morning work, but I don't think there is a good way to ease into those things.   I recently met with a friend who ran Boston last year, and she shared the Course Guide with me along with her insights.  Now, it's as if I know too much.  But, better to know too much than to toe the line unprepared.

I've also been uneasy because my coach is no longer coaching.  How can I pull this off without her support and knowledge and being accountable to her?  I  have second guessed myself each day, but this is my plan:  to follow my last training plan that worked beautifully and to add the hills of Umstead Sate Park for many of my long runs.

Tonight when I look at the legal pad (old school, I  know!) on which I've written my plan, I have some peace.  Many nights before when I studied upcoming workouts, I wondered if I was capable of carrying out the plan.  I had never run so long at this new race pace or even incorporated speed work into my plans.  It  turned out that, on most days, I was able to hit the paces and mileage required; I fell short just a few days. Knowing I've done this before gives me confidence that I can prepare again even without a coach.

I used to ask the question, "How does one approach training for Boston?" I reasoned three possible scenarios exist: enjoy the run and not worry about a time goal; aim to finish in the time of your qualifying race; or, train to run even faster.  There is no one way to answer the question, and I can only answer it for myself.  Now, I can't imagine someone deciding to take it easy in this race.  After all, it's Boston.  I worked too hard to get here to slack off now.  Another friend training for Boston is looking to better her time substantially.  Since qualifying, my goal has been to finish the course in the same amount of time I ran my qualifying race (even though it was a fast and flat course).  Now that I know too much, this will become one of my goals, a challenge type of goal.  My other two goals will be more reasonable, and I will begin to sense what they will be while I train.   I once read it's good to have three different race goals so that one is not disappointed with the outcome.

A few weeks ago I was not looking forward to the months long process of training.  I am reminded as I look ahead to this first week that enjoying the process of preparing for a race is just as rewarding as the race itself.  I know that is true, but I so look forward to the feeling I will have when I cross the finish line on April 15.

NYC Central Park Run

Entering Central Park

Before my run in Central Park was over, I was planning my next trip to New York City.  My husband accompanied me on his first run since the Tuna Run.  I told him that he can no longer say, "I'm not a runner." When he completed his second 200 mile relay in the span of three weeks, he became one of us, and a run through the Park seemed fitting.

It sounds a bit cliche', but we and some friends and fellow University of Kentucky alumni were in the Big Apple to watch a University of Kentucky basketball game on the first night college basketball was played in the new Barclays Center in Brooklyn.  Along with this highlight, our itinerary was filled with activities and time for the art of dining.  With staying out late nights to watch basketball and a Broadway show, and fully-planned mornings, rising early to run wasn't at the top of my list.  It was in the back of my mind, and when we were in the large atrium of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Saturday, I saw runners in the Park as I peered past statues and art students, and I looked forward to joining the runners the next day.

Inside the Met watching runners through the glass.

Viewing the outside of the Met on the run.

We left from the Lucerne Hotel on the Upper West Side at 8:20AM on Sunday morning and walked about a half mile to an entrance to Central Park near the American Museum of Natural History.  When we walked into the park,  I wanted to take picture after picture.  Eager to get on with the run, I told myself to go buy a postcard and get over it.  We joined the flow of the inestimable number of runners on the six mile loop around the Park.  Most seemed to be casual runners with the occasional fast paced runner passing, and most seemed to be running alone while some chatted with friends.

It was an unseasonably warm morning of 52 degrees after a string of days with lower than average temperatures.   Above and through the colorful tree canopy, we could see the skyscrapers with their captivating architecture like exclamation marks punctuating the beauty around us.

My plan was to run the six mile circumference, but we ran short on time because of our purposefully slow pace and stops to take iPhone photos of picturesque landmarks I've seen in movies.  From the Museum, we ran toward Central Park South and then turned up near  Fifth Avenue and ran past the Guggenheim.  We cut across the Park on a path after studying a map, ran back down toward the Museum, and stopped at an entrance to the loop around the reservoir.  This 1.6 mile loop seemed just as busy as the outer loop, and at that particular junction, there was another parallel path.  Runners filled three different paths.

The reservoir

It was then that I started planning my next trip to New York City.  It's a sign of a good trip if you leave wanting more.  In reality I probably will not make it back for a long time.  Whether I visit with family or girlfriends, they will learn that my next trip will revolve around Central Park.  I would like to start my days exploring the different running routes and devote a full day or parts of several days to enjoying the Park's meadows, fields, lakes and ponds. Others can have the hustle and bustle of Midtown and Broadway. Give me the Park every day!

Runners on the resevoir

In the end, we needed to get back to the hotel to prepare for our departure.  We sadly said goodbye to the Park and began the half mile walk to the hotel. We stumbled upon the outdoor Green Flea Market, which lured me in with its stalls of rugs and chandeliers that led to vintage clothing, fur coats, trinkets, jewelry, baked goods and much more. I didn't get to savor the experience and shop, but it was fun nonetheless discovering a City treasure by happenstance.  At the airport, I picked up a book about the best of New York to plan my next trip and saw that we had stayed in the top rated neighborhood hotel and had experienced a top ten sight in our area at the Flea Market.  I didn't need a book to tell me that I had found the best of the best on that run in Central Park.

Tuna Run 200 Race Report

The inaugural Tuna Run 200 was a good first effort with plenty of room for growth.  The 204 mile route started in Garner, NC, just outside of Raleigh, and ended on the boardwalk at Atlantic Beach. Fifty-four teams participated, and with word-of-mouth from participants and the right marketing, it will grow.  If you're looking for an overnight relay race that is all about the running and/or spending time with your teammates, and live close to the race, this one is for you.

My team was comprised of 11 adventurous, athletic women and one man (my husband).  The race director was very helpful while my husband and I searched for a team to join after being unable to convince enough of our local friends to form a team.  We found team "Can't Sea Strait" about a week before the race.

Our first runner began at 6AM on Friday, and our last runner finished thirty-three hours and forty-one minutes later on Saturday afternoon.   My husband and I were in Van 2 from which our first runner began around noon. The conditions at the early start were wet, but that gave way to two sunny days in the mid to upper 70's with low humidity.  The temperature hovered around 50 degrees at night.

I'll offer my impression as a veteran overnight relay runner of three Kentucky Bourbon Chases and then recount my specific experience.

The Best of the Race
*Teamwork
*Empowerment
*Running

The Good
*Mostly flat, well-marked course
*Easy and ample parking at exchange points
*Churches as exchange points with hospitable members providing encouragement and sometimes drinks and snacks in the night
*Nice restroom facilities at churches
*Hot breakfast at a church for $5
*Police patrolling night runs adding a sense of security in unfamiliar surroundings
*Cool race shirt and finisher medal
*Finish line on the beach.

Areas for Improvement
*Communities' support and connection to the race
*Number of volunteers or race staff support and presence at exchanges and finish
*Wrist slap bands for batons
*Homeowners along the course securing their dogs
*Finish line party could become epic.

My First Run: Leg 11; Bentonville Battlefield Historical Association to Selah Christian Church
My goal was to run a 9 minute pace; no pushing myself on this relay.  My heart started beating faster just before I got the baton for 6.61 miles around 4PM.  The two-lane road offered very little shade and no shoulder. I tried to stay on the white line as I ran surrounded by soybean and cotton fields.

I passed a Confederate flag flying at a Confederate tour site and a gas station that seemed lost in time with its early to mid 20th century facade.  Then a caravan of huge construction vehicles swooshed by me as I ran just off the road.  When peace and solitude returned, I noted several majestic hardwood trees from what must remain of a bygone era. Nearing the end, I ran past a sign that identified a stand of pine trees having been planted in 1973 after the area had burned.  When I ran past a cotton field, I bent down and grabbed a handful of cotton left behind at the harvest as a souvenir.  Besides noticing all this, the only other thought I had was that I was hot.  And, that's about all I could say after the run when I was encouraged by a man who turned out to be part of an ultra team.

Van 2 was active from noon to 6PM.  Then we stopped in Mt. Olive for dinner at My Pizza Village, which I would recommend when seeking to refuel on carbs.  After dinner I drove to our next exchange zone at Pink Hill Elementary School where we rested in my mini van.  Sleep would not come, so I listened to two calming Enya CD's on my iPod.  When van 1 arrived at the exchange, it was following our runner closely.  Our teammates warned us about dogs.

Our van become active again around midnight to 6AM.  The police presence reassured us after we got started, but like van 1, we decided that we would stay with our runner.  It was dark with very little moonlight in a rural area with lots of dogs defending their territories with a cacophony of barking.

My Second Run: Leg 23; Comfort Elementary School to Chinquapin Chapel Baptist Church
I began around 4AM after watching my teammates dodge encounters with dogs in the dark.  I had driven strategically so that the van shielded our runners from dogs. Needless to say I was anxious and fearful when I started and had told my teammates that I wanted this leg to end as quickly as possible, which is sad because the night runs can be amazing.  My average pace on this 8.21 mile leg was 8:24.

Picture this:  I started running with a water bottle so as not to break my stride, the baton around my thumb because it was too small, and a can of mace to fend off dogs.  Soon thereafter I passed my water back to the van because I couldn't hold all that stuff.  I had technical difficulties with the headlamp that didn't want to stay on, and I swung it around to my back in annoyance, which is where it stayed for eight miles after my teammates passed me a flashlight.  So now I'm holding a baton, mace, and a flashlight and have an extra headlight as a taillight.   But, I feel like I'm flying through the night.  I dreaded coming upon houses for fear of dogs protecting their homesteads.  None charged at me.

I had a flashback to my children's bus stop on Friday morning where my suburban neighbors looked at me like I was nuts for doing this race through rural, Eastern North Carolina.  This was not fun.  I thought about the recent dog attack article that I flipped past in Runner's World and news about the woman abducted and murdered on a run while some thugs were high on crack.  This is when I had the fleeting thought that I won't be back next year.

When I finally relaxed with just a little way to go, I told myself to try to enjoy some part of it.  The van finally moved ahead to the next exchange leaving me alone as the houses became more sparse.  It was then that I had a taste of what I love about night runs.  I saw a shooting star.  That was my moment.  I noticed a low lying fog rolling across the road just in front of me, and then saw another shooting star.  I also passed a few runners in the night.  I hate to admit it, but I enjoy that.

Our van went inactive from about 6AM until 11AM. My husband and I ended up on a team with a member who just happens to own a beach place in the area.  We drove there, arrived at sunrise and rested.  I was thankful to be able to stretch out my legs on a futon with a cozy comforter. Again, sleep did not come, but at least I was warm and relaxed.

My Third Run:  Leg 32; Crystal Coast Assembly of God to Western Regional Beach Parking Lot
My husband and I switched legs at the last minute.  I was meant to run this 4.94 mile leg, and I relished it.  It was a good challenge and probably one of the most scenic runs of the race.  My adrenaline surged in this heavily-populated, high traffic area that led us up and over the bridge to Emerald Isle.   When I began around 2PM, I faced a headwind running toward the Isle.  Then I encountered a large intersection at which I and another runner stopped for what seemed an eternity before we took a chance and darted through when we probably shouldn't have.  From a distance I could see a large, uphill bridge.  I charged up that hill; I had another runner in sight and eventually passed her.  That bridge was long, high, and up and downhill with a low railing.  I don't enjoy bridges or heights, so I tried to focus on my task while wanting to enjoy the view.  I looked over to see countless boats beside the bridge.  It was beautiful.

The Finish
We were incredibly proud of our finish.  On a journey like this, each is proud of individual accomplishments and the team accomplishment.  It is something to celebrate.  I wasn't the only one who had high expectations for the finish. Our captain half jokingly admitted that she picks races based on the after party.

I was disappointed with the finish line party.  We were one of the last teams to arrive, and the party had been going on for hours. My vision was one of enjoying a thick tuna steak on the beach.  Instead, I surveyed sushi sized single pieces of raw tuna on a few small plates.  That set the tone for me.  I saw a plate with two small slices and took that one.  Thank goodness they also served great, hearty barbecue sandwiches in the other corner of the tent.

We were handed medals still encased in plastic wrap, and there was no announcer or official photographer to capture the moment.  Volunteers or staff were helpful but not easily identifiable. More organization for distribution of food, beverages, medals and other items is needed.  Water wasn't available at the finish, and our last runner, our tireless and thirsty captain, had to drink a diet soda after crossing the finish line. I had one too, and neither of us drink diet soda.  This party could be an incredible draw for the race, and I have no doubt it will become that.  Standing on the beach with my teammates and husband made up for this problem of me having incredibly high standards and expectations.  We continued to enjoy each others' company through the evening and at dinner before we turned in early for much needed sleep.

We Have a Team!

My husband and I plan to participate in the first Tuna Run 200 this coming weekend.  This is a new, overnight relay race from Garner, NC to Atlantic Beach, NC.  We are happy to have found and joined the team "Can't Sea Strait."

Since we first learned of the race, we have wanted to run it and even tried to pull together a 12-person team using my husband's 25% off team registration discount for winning a Tuna Run contest, but the majority of our local runner friends are not eager to participate in these types of events.

There are many unknowns going into the race.  We meet with our teammates for the first time tomorrow, and there is no prior knowledge of the best places to eat and rest along the way.  What is certain is that we are running toward a party on the beach with plenty of delicious tuna.

I have recovered from the Bourbon Chase, which isn't yet three weeks past.  Missing a full night of sleep while running 19 miles, along with a drive to and from Kentucky with my kids in tow, took a lot out of me and a few days of recovery.

I am a fierce competitor with myself, and even though my last leg of the Chase was splendid, I was unhappy after the run because I was slow on that last leg, as reported by my husband when I reached the exchange point.  I finally looked at my Garmin report this week and saw that I was not slow.  I was right on pace.  By that point our team as a whole was running a little behind, so my husband interpreted that to mean that I was slow when he looked at our clipboard chart with times and legs.

Since the Cupcake 5K and the Chase, I haven't jumped back into training.  I have run a few miles here and there and tackled a 10 miler on Saturday to prepare for the Tuna Run.  I am approaching this race much differently than the Chase.  This one is for fun.  I reported my expected time to be at a 9 minute pace.  That means I haven't put any pressure on myself and should be able to enjoy the scenery along the way and tuna at the beach.

New Running Adventure

I wrote a post, but then thought it best to publish it this coming Sunday.   I'm about to go on another running adventure!

Breathe Deep Cary Cupcake 5K

Thirty minutes before race time on Sunday, I was sitting in my car in a downpour while lightening flashed.  When I arrived at the WakeMed Soccer Park for the Breathe Deep Cary Cupcake 5K, things looked pretty grim.  As serendipity would have it, the race was postponed 10 minutes, and the rain stopped in time for the opening program and announcements.

Participants gathered to hear from fundraising teams about friends and family members who have had lung cancer.  The teams were about to run or walk in honor of them.  The race website explains that the event began in 2007 in memory of the parents of event coordinator Liz McCabe.  Liz is a former neighbor of mine who has worked tirelessly over the years to raise money for the cause.  I was running with my husband's mother in mind.  She succumbed to lung cancer before my husband and I met.

After putting things into perspective, we walked to the starting line.  The temperature was in the 50's, and it was good racing weather.  Our path was a cross country course used by Wake County high school students.  I've watched a cross country meet there before but did not appreciate the course until I ran it.

The start is a downhill slope that leads onto a wide gravel trail through the woods.  The start is nice.  Then you have to run up that slope twice during the course of 3.1 miles.  During the first mile a women with her small dog on a leash was in front of me.  I tried for a while to pass, and the dog held me at bay.  When I finally passed the women coming up the slope for the first time, I told her that the dog is a fierce competitor.  She agreed.

During the bigger loop around the soccer field area, I thought about this being a challenging course for high school runners.  When I was in the second mile, I caught up to a high school cross country runner, and we talked for a while before he took off and up the final hill.  We were both happy to be running for a GiGi's cupcake waiting for us at the finish.

He told me he had planned to run this one with all his might, but his coach put him in a meet at the last minute the day before this race. He is a double winner in my book!  He also shared with me that high school runners are not overly enthusiastic about tackling the hill rising up and out of the woods -- twice. That made me feel a little better as I gasped for air on the last, long, uphill slope as I weaved around those who were walking the course.

At the finish, I was handed a receipt from PrecisionRace with my time, division rank, and gender rank.  Then I talked with a friend who chose this race to be her first 5K.  Her family made it an event despite the weather, and when she joined them after her run, her girls had already visited the face painting booth and were eating cupcakes.  I also saw my coach with her family.  She had planned to run the race, but is injured, so her boys ran the kids race.

After the race I noted the celebratory feel of the gathering with cupcakes and kids and close knit groups of team members.  I went into the race thinking I would just see what the day would bring and had a relaxed time goal in mind.  When I finished, I figured I placed after viewing the receipt, but placing didn't seem important on that day with loved ones living in the moment to honor those who had lost their battles with cancer, so I headed to the car and savored my cupcake.  I had been looking forward to it for months.

Kentucky Bourbon Chase 2012 Race Report

The Kentucky Bourbon Chase is described on its website as "... a  200-mile journey across the Bluegrass State -- through our historic bourbon distilleries, across our majestic horse country, and into our enchanting small towns."

It impresses from the opening party to the finish line celebration, from the scenic course to the hospitable distilleries, and from the super volunteers to the friendly townspeople.  The swag is nice, too.  It is all top notch.   To sum up my race, it was a series of unpredictable experiences that equaled a predictably overall great time.  This was my third Bourbon Chase, and it still held pleasant surprises.

Our 12-person "Well Aged" team finished the course in 29 hours 19 minutes and 24 seconds.  We placed 121 out of 287 teams and ranked 64th in the open mixed division, which consisted of men and women in a wide age range.  I was the ninth runner.  For my team, the race isn't about how we place, it's about enjoying the journey, our runs, and each other.

After the race I met my brother (a non-runner) at the finish line celebration.  When my husband explained to him what we had done during the race, my brother said that sounded like a really bad time.     Running 200 miles as a team with three relay legs each, totaling on average around 16.5 miles in just over 24 hours, with little or no sleep, and deficient personal hygiene doesn't appeal to him.

Why run the Chase?  For me it's an adventure and escape from my everyday, ordinary routine, worries, responsibilities and cares.  It's like being a kid again.  You can stay up all night, hang with friends, eat heartily, compete, and no one tells you to take a bath.

My Third Leg: Leg 33 
The biggest surprise this time was that my favorite leg was my third.  My plan was to run at my estimated pace of 8:30 per mile on that last 4.9 mile leg and take in the scenery on an enjoyable run.  This would be my first run during three Chases through the picturesque horse country approaching Midway, KY.  I worked at Midway College when I was younger but had never travelled the winding roads by those particular horse farms.  After running my previous two legs faster than my expected pace, with no sleep, I ran a little slower than my target on those small yet grueling hills.

When I began leg three, I was concerned about the blister on my foot. Then I forgot about the blister and felt discomfort in my knee.  I quickly forgot about my knee as I noticed that all of both legs ached.  That's what made it the best run. I saw the rolling hills of Bluegrass around me, and because I was miserable, yet able to move forward in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, I felt joy.

It was at this time that I saw what must have been eight horses standing at a black fence bordering the narrow road.  Two of the horses watched our race intently.  The irony was not lost on me.  I made my way closer to downtown, and when I approached the last turn, I saw a yard sign in support of State Representative Carl Rollins next to an Obama sign.  Rollins was my boss many years ago.  I smiled and headed through town toward my last hand off.

My Second Leg: Leg 21
This is the leg I looked most forward to running.  It was a 6 mile route from Harrodsburg to McAfee. My favorite legs in the past were in the middle of the night in cool temperatures when I took in the sounds and smells of rural fields as I moved swiftly under the moonlight.   This is the leg where I feel the race is on.  The faster teams pass my team (me) in the night, and I pass other slower runners.   We are all running alone unless in the process of passing or being passed.  In the darkness, especially on straight stretches of highway, I see a mesmerizing line of surreal blinking red lights and feel a peaceful solidarity with the other Chasers.

My First Leg: Leg 9 
I felt and ran well on this long leg of 8.4 miles. My legs were fresh and my adrenaline surged.  I planned to run the first part faster than my average pace because I would encounter more of an incline toward the end of the leg and would be slower then.  I left the town of Lebanon before dusk wearing a reflective vest, headlamp and blinking red light.  I took off like a shot and told myself to slow down.  My headlamp fell down around my neck, and I swung it to my back until I really needed it.

Darkness descended on this run, and I ran through a light rain.  While my teammates waited for me, they experienced a downpour at the exchange point.  My husband greeted me with a worried look and a towel.  During this leg, I was concerned about time and was well ahead of pace at the end.  The surprise this leg held was that the hills were not as challenging as I had anticipated.  I really wished I understood the elevation charts.

My hunch is that all overnight relays are special, but I cannot say enough about how fantastic this one is.  The highlight of the race is visiting several distilleries along the way where runners are made to feel welcome.  We could see the bourbon being made and stored and even got some samples.  The size of the race seems just right at around 300 teams.  It's large enough to generate excitement and rivalry among participants and small enough to feel intimate. I saw the race director several times including twice in the night when he was busy walking and talking on a cell phone or walkie talkie.  Kudos to you Mike Kuntz!

I first learned of this race at the Richmond Marathon Expo in 2009.  My husband was intrigued and interested while I declared I would never run an overnight relay.  Now I hope our team will be able to register for 2013.  Because the race is small and the demand is high, the race director is considering implementing a registration lottery.  If we are lucky next year, you will find us out on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail.

Boston Marathon Acceptance

I gasped loudly as I read the first line from the Boston Athletic Association, "This is to notify you that your entry into the 117th Boston Marathon on Monday, April 15, 2013 has been accepted, provided that the information you submitted is accurate."

Oh, joyful, sweet, sweet words!  I cried pent-up tears of relief and tears of joy.  I was thrilled because although I was optimistic, I knew there was a chance that my entry would not be accepted.

A year ago I read my e-mail from the BAA, and it had confirmed what I was thinking:  Even though I had qualified for the 2012 Marathon, my time was not fast enough to be accepted.  Around 3,500 of us were notified that there was not enough space to let all qualifiers, the slowest qualifiers, participate.  Now the qualifying times are five minutes faster.  I met and exceeded my new qualifying time.

For Mother's Day my husband gave me a thoughtful gift, the book Dare, Dream, Do by Whitney Johnson, a successful businesswoman and blogger.  Johnson writes about women bloggers who are shaping their lives as they go along and are daring to have new dreams.

My dream of running in the Boston Marathon is relatively new.  In late 2010, I could feel the possibility, and I set the goal.  I have had many dreams and set many goals; sometimes I have been successful and sometimes not.  What I find fascinating is how my life has unfolded in a way I could never have imagined.  It is not the life I envisioned, the one with a rewarding career outside my home.  I was in the process of building that career, and I gave it up when my first child was born.

One of the chapters of the book that resonates with me is about how sometimes plans don't work out, but something even better can come from that experience.  I don't know how things will unfold from here, but I've seen the power of allowing myself to dream a new dream.

What a Week

I thought this week would feel unending.  After a six month wait, I registered for the Boston Marathon on Monday morning.  Then I began another wait to learn if my qualifying time will be accepted.  Registration for my group closed on Friday at 5PM.  After registering, I didn't think about it again until now.

My family and I are dealing with some medical issues with both girls and learned that things should get better for my six-year-old in about three months, but things might get worse for my ten-year-old before they get better.  It's been an emotional week.  It has helped me reframe what is important and what is not.

This morning on a 10 miler with two friends, I unloaded some of my burden, and then they filled me with optimism while sharing what is going on in their worlds. One friend is looking forward to starting a new job in Los Angeles and another will begin travelling across the country, stopping at national parks, on her way to a marathon in Washington State.  I am fortunate to run in the company of such fascinating and motivating women.

Double Session

When I looked at my plan at the beginning of the week, I noted another double session for the weekend.  I do not recall scheduling this, but I did.  This time, my Friday night was free, so I decided to give it a try.  This was my plan to simulate the Bourbon Chase:   

Friday AM -- 7 miles at a brisk to fast pace

Friday PM -- 7 miles at a brisk to fast pace

Saturday - 9 miles

I'm not a coach, and doubt my coach would have recommended this.  I am lucky that I am not injured and seem to be having a good rest day.  I sometimes tell others that I think it's better to under train than to over train, but I did not heed my own advice.  

Here's how it went:  

Friday AM

On the ATT I gave myself a mile to warm up.  At mile 2, I ran into some friends and chatted with them for a mile until they finished.  At mile 3 I tried to hit this brisk to fast pace.  What that was supposed to be, I don't know.  I reasoned that it wouldn't be my planned race pace of 8:30 per mile.  So, I thought maybe 8:45 per mile would be good.  I was close to that for a mile or two, but closer to 9 or over 9 on other miles.  I told myself I was conserving energy for the evening run.  

Friday PM

Dinner time rolled around, and I realized I wasn't going back to the flat trail.  I would have to complete 7 miles around my neighborhood loop of approximately a mile. This loop is about a half mile uphill with a flat spot at the top, and then about a half mile descent.

I set out at 8PM in the dark.  I felt like I was running a brisk pace, but when I run uphill, no matter how briskly I think I'm running, I am not when I see my time creep toward a 10 minute or slower pace.   For the first loops I choked on smoke in spots;  some neighbors were either grilling with charcoal or enjoying their fire pits or both.

At mile 5, I began apologizing to my teammates for my inability to meet my anticipated pace on those KY hills, on those legs ranked as difficult.  These thoughts have crept up sometimes in training, but I did not push them away this time.  I shouldn't have submitted that pace.  Last year before my first leg, I stated that I wanted to run this for fun, yet I didn't allow myself this simple pleasure this time.

By the end of mile seven, my legs were shot.  I slowed and wanted to stop.  I felt discomfort in three different places and thought this must be what cramping feels like.  If running up and down hills for seven miles wasn't enough, I knew that I hadn't hydrated enough during the day. 

Saturday AM

While the Friday night run was one of my worst training runs -- ever, the morning run reminded me of the sense of accomplishment and joy I get from running.  I was barely able to crawl into bed on Friday night, but I felt fine on Saturday morning.

I met a friend training for her first 5K.  We were both excited about her tackling four miles on the ATT in preparation, and we ran just slightly over a 10 minute pace, which felt great to me.  When we parted, I ran the next five alone and quickened my pace even hitting one or two miles around that brisk 8:45 pace.  The darkness had passed, and on that run I was at peace with being slower in Kentucky.   

Running Tourist in Blowing Rock

After walking uphill to the trail head and surveying the scene ahead, I decided that running on a trail called The Maze was not a good idea. I saw a narrow, uphill trail, with two trees across it. I had been anticipating this adventure and eager for a serene, picturesque trail run. The recreation center attendant had recommended this trail, which would lead me to an even better trail around Bass Lake. I had told him that I would eat that trail for breakfast.  

Pressed for time and alone as I peered into the woods, this city girl recalled an article I had read the day before in Marie Claire about a young woman surviving a fall off a 50 foot cliff and being lost in the woods for days.  I turned around and headed for the familiar Main Street that would lead me to the park and past churches and shops.  

Early morning, runner tourists can have a place all to themselves.  I saw two other runners, a few walkers, and one lonely police car on the streets.  The sweet smell near Kilwin's chocolate and ice cream shop was as strong around 7:30AM on that Sunday morning as it was the day before when the town bustled with tourists and the line inside was too long for us to wait. The temperature was perfect at around 50 degrees.  My slow run up and down the gently sloping streets was no more hilly than one of my regular runs and lasted 45 minutes, including stops for taking pictures.

Stretching was not on my mind while being a running tourist in Blowing Rock, NC, even though a day earlier I vowed to do more.  I had a little time to squeeze in a run before breakfast, yoga, a shower, and check out.  I took off without thinking to stretch.  During the run I smelled breakfasts cooking, and when I finished, without thinking of stretching, I walked into the lodge at the Chetola Resort and toward one of the best breakfast buffets I've ever had.  My breakfast of blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, strawberries, grits, and a tiny bagel with lox, capers, and cream cheese was a delicious reward for a run. I eyed the carrot cake but was glad to not have time for a return trip to the buffet.

  

Sore in Blowing Rock

Late yesterday afternoon when some friends and I arrived in Blowing Rock, NC for a rare girls' weekend, we happened upon a parking lot filled with teams and white vans for the Blue Ridge Relay Race.  I was excited about the coincidence and started snapping pictures from the moving car.

Later, strolling through the quaint town, we saw some of the teams enjoying their downtime. I overheard an animated team talking with locals about the race.  That will be me and my teammates in three short weeks.  I longed to join them, but wasn't too envious because I know they will have one type of fun this weekend while I enjoy a more relaxing kind.  

Before my trip, my husband and I fit in our long runs separately in the morning.  I had 13 miles on my schedule, but knocked it down to 12  on the ATT.  He graciously reduced his run and spent part of his workout on the stationary bike so that he could be home with the kids.

My word for the day was "sore."  My left calf was sore during the run, and I still feel it. Earlier in the week my left leg felt tight, really tight.  On Wednesday I booked a massage for that night.  I have a massage once a month, and I always ask the masseuse to focus on my legs.  After the massage, I usually get a reminder about how important it is to stretch.  This week I got more of a sports type of massage, which only worked my legs.  It was such a relief.

The masseuse and I talked the entire session, and now I'm convinced I need to stretch more.  I understand why I've seen a relay team with its own masseuse and sports massages being offered to others along the course.   The soreness I experienced on my long run after the massage was more pronounced than the initial tightness, but it is less worrisome than when my leg felt tight, like something might snap.

I brought more yoga clothes with me for this weekend than running clothes, but once I saw the relay teams, I knew for sure that I would be lacing up my running shoes.

Ryan's Marathon Lie

On this Labor Day I ran a leisurely six miles.  I thought about the uneven wear on the soles of my shoes, the new route that I made as I ran, and the quietness and stillness of the neighborhood with others either out of town or sleeping in.  I also had that familiar feeling I get before a race:  I would like to run the race and be finished with all this training.  I don't have anything unusual to write about except for the revelation that Republican vice presidential nominee Paul Ryan lied about his marathon finish time.

Instead of being angry this week, I spent time gathering information to be an enlightened participant in our democracy.  I watched hours of the Republican National Convention and read news articles and blogs about what was said or not said.  I plan to watch the Democratic National Convention this coming week and study the analysis.

Previously, I held back my commentary about Ryan so as to not be labeled that feminist, liberal, jogger, blogger chick, but now I've learned that Runner's World exposed Ryan for lying about his marathon prowess.  I will comment on this.  I read the news report, and then read the RW article and many RW readers' comments.  I was surprised.  My thinking was not unique.  Not only was it not unique, runners were overwhelming condemning the falsehood.

Now, if you think of runners as a group are liberal elitists, know that the majority of my runner friends are definitely conservative. Every so often I would come across a Ryan supporter saying that we should  give the guy a break on this one. And, something like why is RW delving into politics with what must be a hidden agenda?  When the magazine published Sarah Palin's respectable marathon time, I don't recall any backlash on that report.  I just remember it being a big motivator for me.  Must ... beat... Palin...  And, I did!

This is what RW reports in its Newswire from Aug. 31:  "In an interview with radio host Hugh Hewitt last week, Republican vice presidential nominee Paul Ryan said he's run a sub 3:00 marathon." ... "When Hewitt asked Ryan what his personal best is, Ryan replied, "Under three, high twos.  I had a two hour and fifty-something."

Ryan ran one marathon when he was 20 and is recorded as finishing in 4 hours, 1 minute, and 25 seconds.

Why would a much scrutinized politician, vying to be vice president, lie about a marathon finish time -- in a radio interview?  What does this say about his character?  What does this say about his ego?  This news is just days after the convention when he looked squarely at the camera addressing the public and blamed President Obama for shuttering a factory in his hometown while President Bush was still in office.  I know we've all grown cynical about politicians and sometimes forgive them too easily while they play politics, but this aggrandizing about his marathon time is downright dishonorable in the running community.

Non-runners might not understand what the big deal is about this lie.  Finishing your first marathon is a huge accomplishment.  Until that day, you have never run 26.2 miles, and you don't know if or how you can finish.  Usually, one trains for months to achieve this goal.  When you do achieve it, you know what your finish time is and where that falls in comparison to other runners, and more specifically, runners of your gender in your age group.

I understand that over 20 years of not competing in marathons, he probably forgot his exact finish time, but he knew the ballpark.  Why didn't he just say he couldn't remember his time?  To give such a specific time so much faster than his actual finish time is just a lie.  Who would do that?  That's like me telling the media and anyone listening that I was a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, when in fact, I was just a cheerleader at a small college.  And, after my first marathon, I didn't call myself a marathon runner.  I thought it was a fluke that I did it, even with the training, and waited until after my second marathon a year later to acknowledge that I was a marathoner.  Ryan and I are more than just worlds apart politically.

Last Chase Run of the Season

Today was the last Chase Run of the season.  It was dark when I started down the path, and I couldn't see my Garmin to track my pace.  During past Chases, I checked my pace frequently, but this time only noted my pace at mile intervals and then during the final mile to make sure I wasn't slowing.  

I was paired with another runner, and the time sped by. When we were caught by another runner, I thought of asking my partner how she feels when she gets passed, but I didn't ask.  I answered my own question as we charged down the path side by side.  I noticed the passing, but I was focused on my own effort, so I didn't dwell on that.

We talked a little during the first two miles. I dodged puddles along the way and was surprised how quickly we came to the lake and the turnaround spot.    While ascending from the lake, I concentrated on  maintaining our pace and plowed through the puddles.

During the third mile, I noticed landmarks that indicated the end was near.  I was wrong, but it was okay, and I just kept going.  It took all season, but with knowledge of the path and knowing how I run it, the ending was in sight at the right time.

Bringing Happy Back with 15 Miles

When I opened the door Saturday morning, I felt the cool air, and my heart leaped.  This is a promising start for a long run, I thought.  My next thought was that I wouldn't have an excuse for sluggish performance.   For the past week, the temperatures were just below 70 degrees, which felt like a reprieve; the temperature on this morning, hovering just over 60 degrees, was chilly in comparison.

I arrived at the trail with one plan in mind to tackle 15 miles with the merging of two different groups, but I settled on a different plan of attack and saw many friendly, familiar faces along the way.  With the cooler temperatures the ATT came to life with a crowd I hadn't seen and an excitement I  hadn't experienced since early Spring.  When our group of five women set out amid other training groups, I flashed back to my Wilderness Road Girl Scout Camp days, most specifically eagerly walking through the woods on a gravel road with friends toward early morning activities.

Several cross country teams shared the trail with us, and my Kentucky friends might find it interesting  that I ran the trail with the Duke women's cross country team.   Their coach followed them on a bike during what must have been a warm up, and then they sprinted impressively with ease.  I began to feel old and slow.  Just then a passing group of high school boys encouraged my group by calling out, "Good job!" They meant it, and I needed to hear it.

Besides the temperature and the excitement, this morning was welcoming in another way. On the busy trail, I focused on dodging or being dodged by others and our conversation about home improvements.  During the week,  I ran mostly alone, and was absorbed in negative thoughts about Todd Akin, the republican vice presidential pick, the power of a few men, and the voices of women.   I wrestled with whether or not to update my blog because of my anger and the rant that I was about to unleash.  On this day I was happy being carefree for a while and affirming my strength after feeling angry for too many days.

Oops! Double Session?

Last night around 9:30PM, I looked at my training plan for today.  I hadn't realized I was in the highest mileage part of my training, and I saw that I missed a big run yesterday because I didn't look at my plan on Thursday night.  Oops!

My plan for Friday:  a double session with six miles at a brisk to fast pace in the morning and six miles in the evening.  I improvised a couple of days this week, but worked diligently.  I thought Friday would be a cross training day, and I decided to skip it as I faced yard work, activities following an early school release, and preparations for a birthday party.

When I made my plan, I was eager to try this double session, which is a part of a plan on the Bourbon Chase website.  The logic is that it prepares one to run three legs of the relay, which require a lot of miles with little rest or recovery time.  I was up for anything at the time I decided a double session was a good idea.  One of the plans might have included more than one double session.  I felt that was unrealistic and overly ambitious, so I just incorporated one into my plan.

During a 12 miler today, I shared that I missed this double session.  And, after having run 12 miles on Friday, finishing 6 in the evening, was supposed to run the twelve this morning.

"Who planned that?" asked a friend.

"I did," I replied, laughing loudly, followed by, "I know, right?"

What was I thinking six weeks ago?  Who has time for that?  Who do I think I am?  I'm glad I didn't check my training plan for Friday.  Then I would have felt bad about not being able to carry out my own plan.  I might have been disappointed, but now I just laugh.  I've run the Chase twice already without this double session.

On the evening I was supposed to run part two of a double session, my youngest daughter had been invited to a birthday party in a neighboring town at 5-7PM, and I had promised my oldest daughter that we would make cupcakes for her party.  All that was enough.  As it was, frosting and decorating the cupcakes had to wait until this afternoon.

I am more comfortable running outdoors than making just about anything in the kitchen, but on this particular Friday, I was meant to be oblivious to a training schedule and be just a mom making cupcakes with her nine-year-old daughter who was full of anticipation for a her luau themed party.  

Little Red Riding Hood of Marathon Training

 

Today I switched things up at the last minute and headed to the ATT for a weekday run.  I drove my youngest daughter to school after picture day preparation drama, which led to her missing the bus.  Then instead of my usual Thursday drive to the Y, I went to the trail to experience some last minute independence before my girls track out of school for three weeks.  I am determined to make this a good vacation from school for them even though I feel out of synch.  Who would want to be on summer break when all of your after school activities start for the year?    

I don't remember the last time I ran on the trail during the week, but I do it from time to time.  Today I was in luck when I saw a friend's basket filled with training provisions on another friend's car.  I set out  in their preferred direction hoping to connect with them.  Sure enough, as I began, they were finishing their first six miles and headed toward the basket.  One of these women is the self-proclaimed little red riding hood of marathon training.  I know she is seriously in training when she brings her basket of extra bottles and GU.  She usually does long runs on Saturday, but she altered her training because of weekend family plans.  We enjoyed five slow, flat miles together.  And, I added on until I reached six miles.  When I drove away, I had a feeling that this morning was just right.  

Reflecting on the Games

My 13 miler yesterday with a friend was bearable because of her company.  We marveled about the Olympic athletes, especially the runners.  On these warm, humid, and sluggish training runs, it's good to have company and plenty of fluids.

My hill eater friend had given me a packet of Heed to try, and I mixed it with water and drank it during the run.  She is concerned that I'm consuming too much artificial coloring from Gatorade.  I'll have to put this on my shopping list.  My foot was fine, and I will continue with training.

This morning I awoke to the roar of the crowd from the Olympic Marathon course blaring from the TV.  My nine-year-old was watching the men's marathon.  She was joined by her little sister who had fallen asleep on the couch last night watching the final track relays with me.

My girls and I have not been getting our usual amount of rest during these Olympic games. I've heard others talk about not getting enough sleep, but I might be more guilty of influencing my girls to stay up late than others.

I imagine that most parents feel like I do.  I hope that my girls are inspired by watching great feats and motivated to try their best in sports familiar to them and that they have their horizons expanded and curiosity piqued by watching sports that are new to them.  When my girls watch the fastest women in the world handing off a baton, I wonder if they are inspired to do the same.

I am proud of the Olympic athletes and am glad that they can be role models for my girls.  I've read plenty of articles about the games ranging from Nike's brilliant marketing tactic with the neon track shoes to my favorite, that strong is the new pretty.  I am ready for strong to be pretty for all girls.

It's the Little Things

The Wednesday hill run went well.  I felt strong at times and slow at times.  Around mile 6.5 or 7, my form started to deteriorate.  That shows I need more hills or more rest.  I enjoyed the run with a friend who could have easily been far ahead of me, but she slowed her pace to help guide me on the dark route that I haven't yet committed to memory.

Today's run seemed slow.  The most exciting thing about it was my new shorts that rock!  I bought the Dart and Dash shorts at Lululemon yesterday after returning a pair to Athleta.   These are the basic style I prefer with, get this -- five pockets.  Plus the shorts have a stylish silicone design on the sides to hold my shirt in place so that it doesn't ride up while running.   I topped the shorts with my purple Athleta Energy top, which is also really cool with two pockets.  I felt like a kangaroo!  With my Nathan water bottle holder and its pocket for a phone, I had eight places to stash my stuff.  I only used two today.  It's the little things that get me excited.