Around 4 pm yesterday, I found myself increasingly nervous and anxious. By 6 pm, I wanted to leave work and get home as quickly as possible; once home, I ate my dinner and gulped down a glass of wine in record time. When I settled in at 9 pm to watch the State of the Union address, I had a difficult time concentrating and instead prepared for bed at around 9:45 pm. By 10:20 pm, I was under the covers while Barack Obama's voice boomed in from the other room; at 10:30 or so, I finally asked Zdenek to turn off the television so that I could go to sleep. I think I was zonked out by 11 pm, but then I awoke several times during the night and had difficulty falling back to sleep. When my pre-programmed coffee machine started brewing at 5:45 am, I had already been awake for 15 minutes or more.
My heightened state of anxiety yesterday wasn't just because I was feeling crummy (though I was) or wanted to get an extra hour of sleep (though I did). I was nervous because of what lay in store for me this morning. I was stressing over the fact that I've been teetering on the edge of a full-blown illness all week long and that every night I've only added to my accumulated sleep deficit. I was doubtful that I would be able to concentrate and find sufficient energy to perform well this morning. But I wasn't facing a test, an important meeting, or even a job interview today. Rather, I was up against a scheduled tempo run that called for a sustained, hard effort, and I wasn't certain that I would be up to the task. I was worried that this run would feel terrible, and in turn would make me feel terrible, and that it would forever leave a black mark in my training log.
I recognize that this probably sounds silly to anyone who might read this (does anyone actually read this?) -- I feel silly even writing it! I know that I'm not competing for anything (now or in the future) and that I'm so far away from the ranks of even the semi-elite that I should just be happy that I can even train for a marathon at all. But when Zdenek and I headed out the door this morning, I told him that I had been dreading this run all week (to my annoyance, he casually replied that he hadn't even given it a moment's thought until then). I was still doubtful that I could rally enough energy and focus to meet the prescribed pace and distance laid out for me in my training plan, at least not without overshooting my target heart rate by five or more beats per minute.
Happily, when all was "said and run" today, I had a fantastic tempo. My pace was a full ten seconds per mile faster than planned, and my heart rate was bang on. I worked hard but felt strong. Even better, it was a bit snowy and wintry, which made it all the more interesting. In retrospect, I should never have worried about this run at all, and I certainly shouldn't have stressed unnecessarily about it for the twelve hours prior. I should have gone to sleep looking forward to a good night's rest, and left it at that. And even if the run had gone poorly -- even if had gone extraordinarily poorly -- would that have been such a big deal? In the grand scheme of things, no, but it would have left me dreading next week's tempo even more than I surely will. Stress can be a good motivator, but I'm thankful I have at least a few more days before anxiety kicks in again (and even more thankful that tomorrow is a rest day).
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
A (scheduled) change of pace
Although I'm battling a cold (possibly brought on by my race-like effort on Sunday) and am in desperate need of more sleep, the quality of my runs and swim this week have been second to none. I'm really enjoying this round of marathon training and I get the feeling that Zdenek is, too.
One reason I know that running has become the dominant force in our lives is that we both now consider training schedules when planning our vacations. It's nice to have Zdenek on board; in the past, I've been the only one to worry about missing my 10x400 m repeats while sailing in the Galapagos Islands or finding time to run 18 miles before work on Friday morning in preparation for a weekend away. Now, though, Zdenek and I both consider our training program when figuring out how, where, and when to get away.
I'm excited (almost giddy) to report that we have just booked a Costa Rican March getaway to stay in luxury on a nature preserve (and we've already settled on a plan to fit in our runs before, during, and after the trip). I can barely contain myself thinking of days filled with hikes in the rain forests, zip lining through the canopies, and horseback riding on the beach (pictured above), all interspersed with spa treatments, gourmet seafood, and fresh cocktails. March 7 cannot come soon enough.
Neither Zdenek nor I have done a vacation like this before -- in the past, we've driven or sailed thousands of miles in the course of a week or two, trying to fit in as many educational and sight-seeing opportunities as possible. While such holidays have always been enjoyable and exciting, they've typically been far from relaxing. We're anticipating that our trip to Costa Rica will be a departure in every sense of the word. Besides, we already spend enough time focused on covering our ground as quickly as possible.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A sweet surprise
This morning, Zdenek and I ran the Manhattan half-marathon.
We were intending to treat this as the practice "race pace run" that was in our training plan, anyway, and to run it about 20-30 seconds faster than our usual weekend long runs. Indeed, the course covers two loops of Central Park's rolling hills -- not exactly PB-friendly terrain. And we haven't really trained for a half marathon (we're only finishing Week Three of our marathon training plan), let alone tapered for a race. So this morning, Zdenek and I rolled out of bed at 6 am, tired from dinner and a few drinks the night before, not really expecting much out of our race. I was just happy to be running with 5,000+ other like-minded people in one of my favourite places.
For the first loop, Zdenek tried to run alongside me, but he constantly found himself several meters in front, looking back over his shoulder to see how far behind I'd fallen. But I refused to be pushed today and was determined to run my own race; my biggest concern was to finish strong with a steady pace. At the seven mile water station, Zdenek put considerable distance between us and then finally waved goodbye from up ahead. Now on my own and knowing that I had several big hills to contend with over the last 6.1 miles, I tried, as much as possible, to stay within my limits and watch my HR. Only when I was mid-way through the rolling hills of West Drive did I realize that I had only three more miles and plenty more energy to go; at that point, I decided to gradually bring it up a gear at every mile marker. About 1.5 miles from the finish, I became even more energized by the fact that I was passing everyone in front of me and only very rarely getting passed myself. I hit the 13 mile marker in a 7:20 pace and then made a sprint for the finish.
My efforts did not go unrewarded. I ran only seconds slower than my official half-marathon PB this morning (Zdenek, too, was only seconds off his half-marathon PB, but if he wants to gloat, he'll have to get his own blog), and I did it on a relatively tough course with neither proper training nor taper. I am immensely pleased with how this morning went (and think that training and taper may be over-rated).
Because I hope to both replicate and improve upon these results in the future, I have tried to derive a few valuable lessons from the experience:
We were intending to treat this as the practice "race pace run" that was in our training plan, anyway, and to run it about 20-30 seconds faster than our usual weekend long runs. Indeed, the course covers two loops of Central Park's rolling hills -- not exactly PB-friendly terrain. And we haven't really trained for a half marathon (we're only finishing Week Three of our marathon training plan), let alone tapered for a race. So this morning, Zdenek and I rolled out of bed at 6 am, tired from dinner and a few drinks the night before, not really expecting much out of our race. I was just happy to be running with 5,000+ other like-minded people in one of my favourite places.
For the first loop, Zdenek tried to run alongside me, but he constantly found himself several meters in front, looking back over his shoulder to see how far behind I'd fallen. But I refused to be pushed today and was determined to run my own race; my biggest concern was to finish strong with a steady pace. At the seven mile water station, Zdenek put considerable distance between us and then finally waved goodbye from up ahead. Now on my own and knowing that I had several big hills to contend with over the last 6.1 miles, I tried, as much as possible, to stay within my limits and watch my HR. Only when I was mid-way through the rolling hills of West Drive did I realize that I had only three more miles and plenty more energy to go; at that point, I decided to gradually bring it up a gear at every mile marker. About 1.5 miles from the finish, I became even more energized by the fact that I was passing everyone in front of me and only very rarely getting passed myself. I hit the 13 mile marker in a 7:20 pace and then made a sprint for the finish.
My efforts did not go unrewarded. I ran only seconds slower than my official half-marathon PB this morning (Zdenek, too, was only seconds off his half-marathon PB, but if he wants to gloat, he'll have to get his own blog), and I did it on a relatively tough course with neither proper training nor taper. I am immensely pleased with how this morning went (and think that training and taper may be over-rated).
Because I hope to both replicate and improve upon these results in the future, I have tried to derive a few valuable lessons from the experience:
- Know yourself. I didn't have any time expectations going into this morning's race, and for the full 13.1 miles I tried hard to tune into my body. It seems that my body knows what it's doing if I only give it a chance, and together, we make a pretty good team.
- Know the course. This morning's two loops of the Park followed hundreds, if not thousands, of such loops over the last four and a half years. I know every bump, every turn, and every incline by foot and by bike. I know where I can safely pick up the pace. I know where to move to the middle of the road to avoid the steep bank. I know the exact spot at which the grade of Harlem Hill suddenly increases by 3%. This morning, I was running in my own backyard.
- Negative split. It's the mantra of elite running, but I've always had a hard time believing that I could knock 15 seconds off my per-mile time halfway through a race. And yet, that's precisely what I did today. I can finally appreciate what it's like to finish a race fast, strong, and, most importantly, upright.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Hangry
Week Two of marathon training concluded today with an excellent 2000 m swim and a 45 minute session with a personal trainer immediately thereafter. My swimming has improved considerably in only two weeks and, combined with my love for endurance running and my new found passion for cycling, I'm starting to get an itch to soon train for a triathlon. (A girl -- about my age -- at the gym today was wearing a Brazil Ironman shirt that read "Finisher" across the back. It made me jealous.) Running-wise, the weekend has also been a success. Yesterday morning, Zdenek and I ran 16.5 miles together in sunny weather. That represented Zdenek's longest run of his life, and for me constituted a welcome return to the long, slow runs of marathon training.
I marvel at how much our running routine has changed over the last year. Before Zdenek trained for his first half marathon in 2009, Saturday mornings would look something like this: we'd both get up and head to Central Park, running slowly together for about six miles. At that point, he'd turn off and head back home, and I'd continue on for ten or more solo miles. When I'd finally return home, the pancake batter would be prepared and waiting, the coffee would be hot and freshly brewed, and I had only to take a five minute shower before settling down to replenish my stores.
These days, however, Zdenek and I both return home together, equally exhausted and hangry (i.e., the irritable state induced by low blood sugar). We usually shovel a small bowl of yogurt into our mouths as quickly as we can while simultaneously trying to enter that day's mileage, pace, and weather conditions into our respective logs on runnersworld.com (it seems that I'm not the only anal runner in the house). Suddenly, as soon as the bowls are empty and the logs completed, we both get the chills and can't wait another moment to jump in the hot shower. A back-and-forth ensues about who will get the shower first. The winner inevitably ends up taking far too long while the loser stands outside yelling, "Are you almost done?!" to which the winner replies, "Why don't you just get breakfast started?" And so on.
I love my husband and I treasure the fact that we are now swimming, biking, or running together on an almost daily basis. It's awesome to have a training partner and best friend next to me on every lap, loop, and sprint. But there are some days that I wish that I was the only one coming home from a hard workout. There is only room enough for one hangry person in this small apartment.
I marvel at how much our running routine has changed over the last year. Before Zdenek trained for his first half marathon in 2009, Saturday mornings would look something like this: we'd both get up and head to Central Park, running slowly together for about six miles. At that point, he'd turn off and head back home, and I'd continue on for ten or more solo miles. When I'd finally return home, the pancake batter would be prepared and waiting, the coffee would be hot and freshly brewed, and I had only to take a five minute shower before settling down to replenish my stores.
These days, however, Zdenek and I both return home together, equally exhausted and hangry (i.e., the irritable state induced by low blood sugar). We usually shovel a small bowl of yogurt into our mouths as quickly as we can while simultaneously trying to enter that day's mileage, pace, and weather conditions into our respective logs on runnersworld.com (it seems that I'm not the only anal runner in the house). Suddenly, as soon as the bowls are empty and the logs completed, we both get the chills and can't wait another moment to jump in the hot shower. A back-and-forth ensues about who will get the shower first. The winner inevitably ends up taking far too long while the loser stands outside yelling, "Are you almost done?!" to which the winner replies, "Why don't you just get breakfast started?" And so on.
I love my husband and I treasure the fact that we are now swimming, biking, or running together on an almost daily basis. It's awesome to have a training partner and best friend next to me on every lap, loop, and sprint. But there are some days that I wish that I was the only one coming home from a hard workout. There is only room enough for one hangry person in this small apartment.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Water girl
I could be described as being many things during my adolescence, but “athletic” would not be one of them. While I participated in a range of sports, including t-ball, soccer, and softball, my participation was usually limited to a year or two at the most. I was never particularly coordinated or skilled and I could never run very quickly. In Grade Eight, I tried out for the volleyball team to be with my friends; the coach, in an effort to be encouraging, took pity on me and gave me a spot on the team, but I spent most (80%) of the season as a benchwarmer. In Grade Nine, I wised up to the fact that I wasn’t especially talented on the court, and instead decided to concentrate my energies on other important matters -- namely, boys. I convinced the boys’ basketball coach to let me serve as the water girl, and I traveled to all of the high school meets with the team (on which my fourteen year old boyfriend was the star player) to ensure that fresh, cold water was always on hand. With that, I concluded the sporting involvements of my youth.The only sport in which I participated for more than one season was competitive swimming. Somewhere around second or third grade, my mom enrolled me in a top competitive swim club (which has produced a handful of Olympic medalists and with which my own niece and nephews are now swimming). I didn’t last for more than three years because I wasn’t, in fact, a very talented swimmer (no surprise there). In retrospect, I probably should have stuck with it, because I now appreciate that success in athletics (especially during adolescence) can sometimes take many years to cultivate. Nevertheless, I always enjoyed being in the water, and what I lacked in speed and technique I more than made up for in endurance and determination. I recall a few times in the pool swimming lap after lap, sometimes long after my team mates had already showered and gone home. There were fringe benefits, too: I enjoyed the early Saturday morning workouts if only for the McDonald’s Egg McMuffins that we picked up on the drive back home, and after I actually placed in a meet in Grade Three, my school principal announced it over the PA system to the entire student body.
In the past 15 years, though, the number of times I’ve swam dedicated laps for exercise purposes has probably numbered less than twenty. In the last two years alone, I think I’ve been in the pool a handful of times -- despite the fact that one reason Zdenek and I pay for an exorbitantly priced gym membership is to have access to the only 25 meter pool on the UWS. Part of the problem is that swimming today seems much fussier than it did when I was a kid. Back then, I’d get out, rinse off, put my clothes on over my wet bathing suit, and be driven home to a find a hot dinner waiting at the table. Today, I have to either haul all of my toiletries to the gym or be forced to shower a second time when I get home, my skin feels tight and flaky from the chlorine, I worry about wearing flip flops on the pool deck and in the shower lest I pick up some funky foot disease, and if I get home too late then dinner will consist of a bowl of cereal. Running is infinitely less cumbersome, and even the preparatory work required for cycling is minimal by comparison. Combined with the crowded lanes and too-warm water of our gym’s pool, the thought of staring at a black line for 45 minutes or more is never very appetizing when Central Park is only 1/2 mile from my doorstep. (For Zdenek, who was once a mighty competitive swimmer, the prospects are even worse: he finds the pace of the lanes at our local pool to be a tad on the slow side, and he’s been reprimanded by the lifeguards for everything from going too quickly to doing the butterfly stroke (his specialty).)
Yesterday afternoon, however, Zdenek and I headed to the pool for our first swimming workout of 2010. Today, he hurts in all the places where he used his muscles to power him through the water, and I hurt in all the places that I stressed my joints from poor technique. This said, I’m going to try to make a commitment during my current marathon plan to devote more cross-training days to swimming. For one, it will make better use of my gym membership. Secondly, it will (hopefully) develop new muscles and upper body strength with limited injury risk. Thirdly, I am married to a former competitive swimmer who also happens to be a great coach, so I have hours and hours of free instruction at my disposal.
All things considered, it’s time I tried to become a water girl once again.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Necessary evils
Over the past week I made the decision to up my training a notch (or two) and put all of these hard miles towards a concrete goal: I'm planning on running my eighth marathon this May.
On Monday I kicked off Week One of training with a solid six miles in the Park. My pace was good, my heart rate better than expected, and I finished feeling strong and refreshed. Unfortunately the same cannot be said of Tuesday's workout, which called for 43 minutes and 44 seconds of aerobic cross-training (at an average heart rate of 150). Indeed, Tuesday morning's trip to the gym was a bit of a debacle.
To be sure, I despise cross-training (unless it's cycling, which is unfortunately
not possible this time of year), and it's definitely the worst part about a marathon training plan: the elliptical trainer may be the dullest exercise machine ever invented; the stationary bikes in the gym are not positioned at all like real road bikes; swimming takes too long when you count the extra 45 minutes it requires to get to and from the pool. I've yet to try that seated thing that works only my arms, but someday if I suffer a serious leg injury I may have to consider giving it a go.
On Tuesday I picked the lesser of all evils and settled in on the elliptical (with upper body levers) for 44 mind-numbing minutes. To keep myself semi-distracted, I plugged my headset into the Today Show, which happened to be showing a story about a golden retriever named Angel who saved his 11 year-old master from a cougar attack in British Columbia. Watching this adorable puppy with all of his wounds being lifted on to the operating table and hearing how he almost gave his life to protect the little boy was a lot for me to handle while my legs whirled round and round. Suddenly, without warning, I felt an enormous lump in my throat, and then I was shedding tears on the elliptical machine in the middle of the JCC gym.
Fortunately, my allotted 44 minutes were almost over, so I was able to dab my eyes and get off the machine soon after my emotional meltdown. I then proceeded to do 2x20 lunges around the gym -- a workout I haven't done since last year's marathon training. It was somewhere around the third and fourth reps of the second set that I appear to have pulled all of the major muscle groups in both legs, and I figured this was the signal to get out of gym altogether. As a result of my pulled muscles, yesterday morning's six mile tempo was anything was pleasant.
All of this leads me to question whether exercise really does reduce stress like common theory would suggest. On further consideration, though, I don't think I've ever cried while doing a loop in Central Park (although the wind does cause my eyes to tear incessantly), and I rarely pull muscles during regular runs. This morning I had the perfect four mile fartlek around the Central Park reservoir: a quick, satisfying workout in clear, cold weather. I can only conclude that it must be the indoor gym environment that stresses me out. (At the very least, I could be subconsciously stressing over the fact that I go to the gym so infrequently and pay so much for my membership that every single visit averages to about $50). As if I didn't have enough reasons to dislike cross-training.
On Monday I kicked off Week One of training with a solid six miles in the Park. My pace was good, my heart rate better than expected, and I finished feeling strong and refreshed. Unfortunately the same cannot be said of Tuesday's workout, which called for 43 minutes and 44 seconds of aerobic cross-training (at an average heart rate of 150). Indeed, Tuesday morning's trip to the gym was a bit of a debacle.
To be sure, I despise cross-training (unless it's cycling, which is unfortunately
not possible this time of year), and it's definitely the worst part about a marathon training plan: the elliptical trainer may be the dullest exercise machine ever invented; the stationary bikes in the gym are not positioned at all like real road bikes; swimming takes too long when you count the extra 45 minutes it requires to get to and from the pool. I've yet to try that seated thing that works only my arms, but someday if I suffer a serious leg injury I may have to consider giving it a go.On Tuesday I picked the lesser of all evils and settled in on the elliptical (with upper body levers) for 44 mind-numbing minutes. To keep myself semi-distracted, I plugged my headset into the Today Show, which happened to be showing a story about a golden retriever named Angel who saved his 11 year-old master from a cougar attack in British Columbia. Watching this adorable puppy with all of his wounds being lifted on to the operating table and hearing how he almost gave his life to protect the little boy was a lot for me to handle while my legs whirled round and round. Suddenly, without warning, I felt an enormous lump in my throat, and then I was shedding tears on the elliptical machine in the middle of the JCC gym.
Fortunately, my allotted 44 minutes were almost over, so I was able to dab my eyes and get off the machine soon after my emotional meltdown. I then proceeded to do 2x20 lunges around the gym -- a workout I haven't done since last year's marathon training. It was somewhere around the third and fourth reps of the second set that I appear to have pulled all of the major muscle groups in both legs, and I figured this was the signal to get out of gym altogether. As a result of my pulled muscles, yesterday morning's six mile tempo was anything was pleasant.
All of this leads me to question whether exercise really does reduce stress like common theory would suggest. On further consideration, though, I don't think I've ever cried while doing a loop in Central Park (although the wind does cause my eyes to tear incessantly), and I rarely pull muscles during regular runs. This morning I had the perfect four mile fartlek around the Central Park reservoir: a quick, satisfying workout in clear, cold weather. I can only conclude that it must be the indoor gym environment that stresses me out. (At the very least, I could be subconsciously stressing over the fact that I go to the gym so infrequently and pay so much for my membership that every single visit averages to about $50). As if I didn't have enough reasons to dislike cross-training.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Fifteen miles: Czech!
During our recent time in Europe, Zdenek and I ran only three times, but I was impressed that I never had to ask him twice to run with me. His extended Czech family complimented him repeatedly on his recent slimming, and I suspect this provided strong motivation for him to get in a few pivo-burning miles. Running tends to have this kind of self-reinforcing effect. I was also amused to find that Czechs, on average, seem impressed and/or bewildered by runners. Our early morning miles were greeted by strange stares from passers-by, and Czech friends and family were eager to introduce me as a runner and to confirm first-hand that I really do complete marathons.
Our running route in the Czech Republic was an extremely hilly 3 km loop in the woods and river surrounding Zdenek’s grandfather’s cottage. In all, we managed to find time for only fifteen miles; considering the amount of heavy food and drink in which we indulged, this was about thirty miles too few.
Our running route in the Czech Republic was an extremely hilly 3 km loop in the woods and river surrounding Zdenek’s grandfather’s cottage. In all, we managed to find time for only fifteen miles; considering the amount of heavy food and drink in which we indulged, this was about thirty miles too few.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Lessons learned in 2010
It is never too early in the year to assess one's own situation and actions and to learn valuable lessons with which to move forward. 2010 is barely underway, and already I feel wiser for it. Here, then, are a few lessons for the New Year, some of which I learned the hard way:
- If you are going to do a run at midnight, be aware that whatever you may eat or drink in the five hours prior is sure to affect your ability and comfort on said run.
- It is best not to eat a three course meal, complete with a cup of guacamole per person, before a midnight run. It is also wise to avoid alcohol, and to cease drinking or eating several hours (i.e., not 60 minutes) before commencing running.
- If you must run at midnight, it is best to do it with friends who are not terribly serious about their running speed. This will make the run much more enjoyable.
- On any midnight run, it is advisable to bring along Dave, because he will dress inappropriately, get extremely drunk beforehand, pour gin and tonics (with a lemon twist -- no kidding) 15 seconds before the starting gun, run in some hilarious fashion with the group for a few minutes before disappearing, and then arrive at the finish line 45 minutes behind the rest of the group because he walked most of the course and drank an entire bottle of gin along the way.
- Central Park on New Year's Eve is a great place to run, because the fireworks are spectacular and there are many inebriated supportive spectators to cheer you on.
- It is advisable to charge your camera battery before heading out, because a dead battery may make it difficult to take many photos during the actual running portion of the evening.
- Fifty-one minutes (including the 5.5 minutes it took to actually cross the start line) for four miles is a great way to start the New Year, because it leaves lots of room for improvement during the rest of the year.
- Not every run will make you feel good (in fact, it may make you feel like throwing up), but those tend to be the most memorable. And when you are laughing so hard during a run that you can barely keep going, you know it was a very good idea indeed.
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