On Saturday, Zdenek and I ran what will hopefully be the most difficult run of our training plan: 22 miles at sub-8 min/mile. This took approximately three hours out of our weekend morning (going into the early afternoon), and constituted four loops of the Park. This (very) long run gave me opportunity to consider just how funny a running couple Zdenek and I have become: We don't listen to music, but yet we rarely make conversation. We just stick to our pace, watch the road ahead, and run side by side -- in silence.
Or at least, we're usually silent. One other thing I've noticed, and which I must confess, is that when I run with Zdenek day in and day out, I tend to complain during the run a lot. (I know that any one of my friends reading this is bound to say, “Jodi -- complain? Not our Jodi! She never complains about anything!”) But it's true. I confess. I complain that I'm tired. My legs hurt. It's hard to breathe. My feet hurt. It's too windy. It's too hot. It's too rainy. It's too sunny. There are too many people in the Park. The Park is too deserted. I'm tired!
In the past, I’ve always been on my own -- no one was along for the run to listen to me whine about my tired legs or to hear my heavy breathing. I felt like a champion for just getting out there and running 5 or 8 or 22 miles all by myself, and by the time I returned home, it was satisfying to just exclaim, “Boy, that was hard!” and leave it at that. But this year, despite the fact that my times are pretty consistent from one year ago, every run just feels so much harder.
I’m not sure why this is. Do I prefer to be a solitary runner? It’s possible, but I know I love the company on hill repeats and intervals. Can I not stand running with someone who’s just slightly out of my league on every single run? There could be some truth in this. Does running with Zdenek remind me too much that cycling season is just around the corner, and so I can’t concentrate on the task at hand? Definitely maybe. Do I just love the opportunity for a good whine session, whenever, wherever? Hmmmm.....
Whatever it is, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about it too much longer. Zdenek says time and time again that we’re crazy for doing this and that he really just prefers a solid 7-10 miles a few times a week, though he seems to be enjoy the training if only to prove to himself he can do it. As for me, running must now compete for my affections with cycling and, lately, swimming. After the marathon, I don't imagine I'll be running too much. Indeed, come May 3, I’ll have to find something new to complain about. I'm sure I'll manage.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
You meant "hotel," right?
Zdenek: I’m happy we’re doing the Providence Marathon; Providence is supposed to be a very nice city.
Jodi: We could take the later train back on Sunday so that we can enjoy it a bit after the race, but that all depends.
Zdenek: Depends on what?
Jodi: On whether we’ll be able to have a shower after race or not.
Zdenek: Maybe you should try to arrange it with the hospital ahead of time.
Jodi: We could take the later train back on Sunday so that we can enjoy it a bit after the race, but that all depends.
Zdenek: Depends on what?
Jodi: On whether we’ll be able to have a shower after race or not.
Zdenek: Maybe you should try to arrange it with the hospital ahead of time.
Quick reminders
This week marks the beginning of interval repeats, which is probably my least favourite part of marathon training (tied with hill repeats, that is). I’m not very good at running quickly, and I feel awkward when even attempting a sprint. My body type surely is not cut out for fast-twitch muscle action. And intervals tend to just leave my legs and lungs burning without, it seems, having much impact on my overall performance. I don’t feel that I get much faster throughout the six weeks of interval training, and I certainly don’t improve very much from year to year. What, then, is the point?
Yesterday I received awful news about the health of someone I know quite well and like very much. It’s heart-wrenching news, really -- the kind that makes you shake your head and wonder about the unfairness of life, and why bad things seem to happen to good people. It’s the kind of news that makes you pause to think about how short and fragile life really is, and how we should all count our blessings on a daily basis. It’s the kind of news that makes you feel like any complaint or gripe you might have is undoubtedly minor and almost embarrassing to mention.
Heading home from work yesterday evening, I felt tired and sluggish. I wasn’t feeling particularly excited about running, let alone about the prospect of running 1200 m repeats. But any hesitation I had quickly gave way to the realization that I should just be thankful that I can run, and I should remember how good it feels to work my body hard. I feel wobbly but strangely refreshed after a hard workout. I enjoy my dinner and a glass of wine that much more. I sleep like a log. I know that I’ve done something good for my health and my body and my state of mind. I feel proud of my effort.
It is no lie that, as I ran back on forth on the relatively flat stretch of East Drive last night, I thought several times about how lucky I am to be running. The news I received yesterday provided ample motivation for me to keep going. To be sure, I wasn’t running for anybody or in tribute to anyone -- it doesn’t even make sense to me how my act of running could possibly be for anyone else. I recognize that running back and forth as quickly as I can (which is not very quickly) is a selfish (and some might say, pointless) activity. But I know that someday -- hopefully later rather than sooner -- I won’t be able to run. Maybe I’ll get injured or sick for an extended period of time. Maybe the other demands in my life won’t allow time for such a self-indulgent activity. Maybe I’ll eventually get old and running will hurt too much to be worth the effort. I’m not sure what will spell the end of my running days, but I know that it will come.
And so last night, in spite of the fact that I’m not very good at running intervals, I tried to enjoy the burning sensation in my legs and the labored breathing in my lungs, and all that they represent. It may be hard to believe, but I know that, someday, I’ll miss it.
Yesterday I received awful news about the health of someone I know quite well and like very much. It’s heart-wrenching news, really -- the kind that makes you shake your head and wonder about the unfairness of life, and why bad things seem to happen to good people. It’s the kind of news that makes you pause to think about how short and fragile life really is, and how we should all count our blessings on a daily basis. It’s the kind of news that makes you feel like any complaint or gripe you might have is undoubtedly minor and almost embarrassing to mention.
Heading home from work yesterday evening, I felt tired and sluggish. I wasn’t feeling particularly excited about running, let alone about the prospect of running 1200 m repeats. But any hesitation I had quickly gave way to the realization that I should just be thankful that I can run, and I should remember how good it feels to work my body hard. I feel wobbly but strangely refreshed after a hard workout. I enjoy my dinner and a glass of wine that much more. I sleep like a log. I know that I’ve done something good for my health and my body and my state of mind. I feel proud of my effort.
It is no lie that, as I ran back on forth on the relatively flat stretch of East Drive last night, I thought several times about how lucky I am to be running. The news I received yesterday provided ample motivation for me to keep going. To be sure, I wasn’t running for anybody or in tribute to anyone -- it doesn’t even make sense to me how my act of running could possibly be for anyone else. I recognize that running back and forth as quickly as I can (which is not very quickly) is a selfish (and some might say, pointless) activity. But I know that someday -- hopefully later rather than sooner -- I won’t be able to run. Maybe I’ll get injured or sick for an extended period of time. Maybe the other demands in my life won’t allow time for such a self-indulgent activity. Maybe I’ll eventually get old and running will hurt too much to be worth the effort. I’m not sure what will spell the end of my running days, but I know that it will come.
And so last night, in spite of the fact that I’m not very good at running intervals, I tried to enjoy the burning sensation in my legs and the labored breathing in my lungs, and all that they represent. It may be hard to believe, but I know that, someday, I’ll miss it.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
It's a date
This is not as exciting as planning a vacation, but it will have to do.
After weeks of training for a “May marathon,” I finally have one to look forward to. I originally wanted an early May date since this allows me to do the bulk of my training during the colder winter and spring months, and it wraps up my running season right around the time that I’m ready to get back on my bike again. In the past, I’ve run spring marathons in Ottawa, Cincinnati, Boston, Virginia Beach, and Mississauga (Toronto).
I seriously considered doing Cincinnati’s Flying Pig again this year -- it will always hold a special place in my heart as the site of my first BQ. But the flight to and from Cincinnati is a pain, and it makes for a busy weekend. I really should be running Boston this year but I failed to sign up and so missed the deadline. Mississauga was also tempting (especially since it allows a trip to the homeland and a potential visit with the in-laws), but again, the travel is a bit much for 36 hours. New Jersey seemed to be the most sane choice. It is nearby, around the right time, and mostly flat. But on the other hand, it’s two loops of the same course and it is, well, New Jersey.
And so, after poring over MarathonGuide.com today, I’ve selected my race: The Cox Sports Marathon in Providence, Rhode Island.
+ It’s within three hours by Amtrak.
+ I’ve never visited Providence.
+ The course is mostly flat and along the waterfront.
+ The rail station, Westin hotel, and start and finish are within a few short blocks of each other.
+ It’s May 2.
I am looking forward to it already, and I hope it will provide sufficient motivation to get me through the final and most difficult six weeks of marathon training. No offense (and I'm sure it's a great race), but New Jersey just wasn’t cutting it.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Ups and downs
Upon arriving in Costa Rica and driving to our hotel, one thing became abundantly clear: there would be no running on this holiday. Zdenek and I ran 20 miles on the day before our departure, and we were looking forward to fitting in two or three solid runs during our five days in Costa Rica. But somewhere between passing a large sign saying, “4x4 only beyond this point,” and, a mile later, hanging on to the Bego’s door afraid that I might fall into the backseat, I realized that we were not staying in running-friendly territory. Nope, we were going to have to be content with cross-training only.
On the first day, we decided to get a feel for our surroundings by taking a five mile “hike” through the Costa Rican mountains. We climbed several hundred feet to the top of the cloud forest before descending another thousand feet (or more), and then hiking all the way back up again. The average grade of the hill was 20%. It hurt coming down, and it was excruciating going up. Several kind folks making the trip up the mountain in 4x4s stopped to offer us a ride. Two American surfers stopped not once, but twice, aghast that we were actually attempting to walk up the mountain. The temperature was somewhere near 30 or 35 degrees Celsius, we ran out of water, and we were walking uphill in the full glare of the sun.
That was day one. My butt didn’t stop hurting until day four. And every time we drove that road for the next four days, Zdenek and I shook our heads incredulously, not quite believing that we had ever actually made this journey by foot. (I think that, in some respects, this was an okay substitution for our scheduled Wednesday hill workout.)
On day two, Zdenek and I got out of bed at 5:30 am to see if we could find the Howler Monkeys in the jungle. We decided to head to the waterfall about a mile away, since one of the hotel workers mentioned that the monkeys like to hang out there in the morning. This was another 20%-grade descent and climb back up. My legs wobbled the entire team. We didn’t see any monkeys.
On the afternoon of day two, we decided to go horseback riding for several hours during the hottest part of the day. Although we got to stop and swim in a waterfall for 45 minutes midway through the trip, I was barely able to stand up in the stirrups because my legs were in such pain. The next day, my butt hurt in all new places, and didn’t really stop hurting until day five.
On day three, we decided to drink margaritas and beer and beach hop.
On day four, we still did not feel sufficiently recovered to do anything more than laze around the pool. In the afternoon, I attended “flip-turn” camp in the pool, practicing my flip-turns again and again while Zdenek watched me from under the water and gave pointers. I do believe that my flip turns improved considerably.
On day five, flip-turn camp resumed in the morning, and we then headed out for an afternoon of crazy ziplining. We choose the biggest, baddest ziplines in the vicinity, and ones which several other ziplining experts said made every other zipline look like Disneyland. I’m glad I did it, but it wasn’t the huge thrill I was hoping it would be. I’m wondering if another margarita or two would have served me better.
And on day six, we drove 3.5 hours, flew five hours, and descended through a Nor’easter with some of the worst turbulence ever. We then proceeded to wait in the taxi queue for what I’m sure was at least one hour, after having already waited an hour for a reserved black car that never arrived.
Shortly before I left for vacation, I read about an interesting study suggesting that the act of taking vacations does not boost one’s happiness, whereas the act of planning for the vacation makes one very happy indeed. Time to start planning my next one.
On the first day, we decided to get a feel for our surroundings by taking a five mile “hike” through the Costa Rican mountains. We climbed several hundred feet to the top of the cloud forest before descending another thousand feet (or more), and then hiking all the way back up again. The average grade of the hill was 20%. It hurt coming down, and it was excruciating going up. Several kind folks making the trip up the mountain in 4x4s stopped to offer us a ride. Two American surfers stopped not once, but twice, aghast that we were actually attempting to walk up the mountain. The temperature was somewhere near 30 or 35 degrees Celsius, we ran out of water, and we were walking uphill in the full glare of the sun.
That was day one. My butt didn’t stop hurting until day four. And every time we drove that road for the next four days, Zdenek and I shook our heads incredulously, not quite believing that we had ever actually made this journey by foot. (I think that, in some respects, this was an okay substitution for our scheduled Wednesday hill workout.)
On day two, Zdenek and I got out of bed at 5:30 am to see if we could find the Howler Monkeys in the jungle. We decided to head to the waterfall about a mile away, since one of the hotel workers mentioned that the monkeys like to hang out there in the morning. This was another 20%-grade descent and climb back up. My legs wobbled the entire team. We didn’t see any monkeys.
On the afternoon of day two, we decided to go horseback riding for several hours during the hottest part of the day. Although we got to stop and swim in a waterfall for 45 minutes midway through the trip, I was barely able to stand up in the stirrups because my legs were in such pain. The next day, my butt hurt in all new places, and didn’t really stop hurting until day five.
On day three, we decided to drink margaritas and beer and beach hop.
On day four, we still did not feel sufficiently recovered to do anything more than laze around the pool. In the afternoon, I attended “flip-turn” camp in the pool, practicing my flip-turns again and again while Zdenek watched me from under the water and gave pointers. I do believe that my flip turns improved considerably.
On day five, flip-turn camp resumed in the morning, and we then headed out for an afternoon of crazy ziplining. We choose the biggest, baddest ziplines in the vicinity, and ones which several other ziplining experts said made every other zipline look like Disneyland. I’m glad I did it, but it wasn’t the huge thrill I was hoping it would be. I’m wondering if another margarita or two would have served me better.
And on day six, we drove 3.5 hours, flew five hours, and descended through a Nor’easter with some of the worst turbulence ever. We then proceeded to wait in the taxi queue for what I’m sure was at least one hour, after having already waited an hour for a reserved black car that never arrived.
Shortly before I left for vacation, I read about an interesting study suggesting that the act of taking vacations does not boost one’s happiness, whereas the act of planning for the vacation makes one very happy indeed. Time to start planning my next one.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Back to basics
One of my good friends recently told me that she is interested in taking up running with a bit more regularity and seriousness. She asked what tips or advice I might dispense to a neophyte, and so I put together my best list of "dos" and "don'ts." Because it took me a bit of time to do this, and because this is a running-oriented blog, I thought I'd post a (slightly edited) copy of my email here. To the seasoned runner, this will be painfully obvious advice. But reflecting on the basics reminds me just how far I've come; I never thought, in a million years, that anyone, anywhere, would ever be asking me for advice on running.
-----------------
I am always happy when people take up running, but I totally understand that it is not for everybody. If you really enjoy schedules and group workouts, running is, unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), an activity that often requires self-motivation to get out the door. Of course, you can always join a running group and/or find a few running partners, and having a race to train for is also a good motivator. But even then, running is simply not an enjoyable activity for a lot of people, and I totally understand that. But even if you don't like it, you have nothing to be afraid of in trying.
My advice would be to try to commit to it for 12 weeks. It will take at least that long for you to get comfortable and start seeing any improvements, and it will probably suck (if not hurt) a lot before that. I ran a bit around 1999-2002 -- mostly 5 to 10km but pretty slowly. I remember the first 10km I did in 2003 with a running group. After they finished ridiculing me for wearing cotton (see #6 below), I found myself at the back of the pack and barely able to keep up. When I got home, I had a shower and sat on my couch and could barely move. It was horrible. I thought I was going to die. And back when I first started running 20km+ on weekends, I'd have to sleep a couple of hours in the afternoon. I hardly (if ever) do that now, though I am pretty tired come 10 pm.
So, this is my basic running advice:
1. Start slowly. In the beginning (and the beginning might constitute months or even a year!), your focus should just be to stay on your feet and keep moving for a longer and longer period of time. Take walk breaks if you need to. Don't worry one bit about how fast you're going. When I first started, I probably could have walked faster than I was "running," but one of the things I love about running is that you see such tangible improvements if you stick at it. You'll get faster and stronger without even trying to. Only once you have been running 15 miles (~24 km) per week for a good six months will you then start to add things like intervals or pick-ups to try to get faster.
2. Don't bounce. Your running style should be more like a shuffle, because the less air you get, the less impact on your joints.
3. On anything longer than 30 minutes, bring water. Get a water belt if you need it. On runs longer than 90 minutes you'll need gels or a sports drink, but you have a way to go before you need to worry about that.
4. Increase your mileage by no more than 10% per week. Try not to run more than 4x per week -- the extra rest days are awesome (though feel free to do as much aerobic cross-training, i.e., swimming, biking, elliptical, etc., as you want on one or two of the other days). Eventually you should get your "long" run to about 60 minutes, which will be about 10 km.
5. Get good running shoes if you don't have them already. Go to a proper running store. Let them watch you run. If the shoes don't feel good, return them (all of the good stores take returns within 30 days). It probably took me a year or more of trying different models before I figured out what works for me. And even now, when they discontinue my shoe, it sometimes takes me a couple of tries before I find a suitable replacement.
6. Get good running clothes. No cotton. No chafing. I swear by BodyGlide.
7. If you feel an injury coming on, ice works magic. I cannot say that enough. Ten minutes at a time for two or three times a day cures everything from sore knees to shin splints.
Beyond that, there is not that much you need to initially learn. Running is awesome because it is one of the most accessible sports out there -- no fancy equipment like cycling, very little in the way of technique like swimming, etc. Sure, once you get more into it you can start to do different workouts, check your leg turnover, get a HR monitor, etc., but for the first six months, your goal should just be to stay on your feet and keep moving!
Again, you just have to try to stick with it before you can make a proper assessment of whether it's for you or not. When I ran my first hard 10 km in about October 2003, it felt next to impossible. In the spring of 2004 I ran my first 30 km race, and in October 2004 I ran my first marathon. And the rest is history.
Wishing you lots of luck!
-----------------
I am always happy when people take up running, but I totally understand that it is not for everybody. If you really enjoy schedules and group workouts, running is, unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), an activity that often requires self-motivation to get out the door. Of course, you can always join a running group and/or find a few running partners, and having a race to train for is also a good motivator. But even then, running is simply not an enjoyable activity for a lot of people, and I totally understand that. But even if you don't like it, you have nothing to be afraid of in trying.
My advice would be to try to commit to it for 12 weeks. It will take at least that long for you to get comfortable and start seeing any improvements, and it will probably suck (if not hurt) a lot before that. I ran a bit around 1999-2002 -- mostly 5 to 10km but pretty slowly. I remember the first 10km I did in 2003 with a running group. After they finished ridiculing me for wearing cotton (see #6 below), I found myself at the back of the pack and barely able to keep up. When I got home, I had a shower and sat on my couch and could barely move. It was horrible. I thought I was going to die. And back when I first started running 20km+ on weekends, I'd have to sleep a couple of hours in the afternoon. I hardly (if ever) do that now, though I am pretty tired come 10 pm.
So, this is my basic running advice:
1. Start slowly. In the beginning (and the beginning might constitute months or even a year!), your focus should just be to stay on your feet and keep moving for a longer and longer period of time. Take walk breaks if you need to. Don't worry one bit about how fast you're going. When I first started, I probably could have walked faster than I was "running," but one of the things I love about running is that you see such tangible improvements if you stick at it. You'll get faster and stronger without even trying to. Only once you have been running 15 miles (~24 km) per week for a good six months will you then start to add things like intervals or pick-ups to try to get faster.
2. Don't bounce. Your running style should be more like a shuffle, because the less air you get, the less impact on your joints.
3. On anything longer than 30 minutes, bring water. Get a water belt if you need it. On runs longer than 90 minutes you'll need gels or a sports drink, but you have a way to go before you need to worry about that.
4. Increase your mileage by no more than 10% per week. Try not to run more than 4x per week -- the extra rest days are awesome (though feel free to do as much aerobic cross-training, i.e., swimming, biking, elliptical, etc., as you want on one or two of the other days). Eventually you should get your "long" run to about 60 minutes, which will be about 10 km.
5. Get good running shoes if you don't have them already. Go to a proper running store. Let them watch you run. If the shoes don't feel good, return them (all of the good stores take returns within 30 days). It probably took me a year or more of trying different models before I figured out what works for me. And even now, when they discontinue my shoe, it sometimes takes me a couple of tries before I find a suitable replacement.
6. Get good running clothes. No cotton. No chafing. I swear by BodyGlide.
7. If you feel an injury coming on, ice works magic. I cannot say that enough. Ten minutes at a time for two or three times a day cures everything from sore knees to shin splints.
Beyond that, there is not that much you need to initially learn. Running is awesome because it is one of the most accessible sports out there -- no fancy equipment like cycling, very little in the way of technique like swimming, etc. Sure, once you get more into it you can start to do different workouts, check your leg turnover, get a HR monitor, etc., but for the first six months, your goal should just be to stay on your feet and keep moving!
Again, you just have to try to stick with it before you can make a proper assessment of whether it's for you or not. When I ran my first hard 10 km in about October 2003, it felt next to impossible. In the spring of 2004 I ran my first 30 km race, and in October 2004 I ran my first marathon. And the rest is history.
Wishing you lots of luck!
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