Eat Drink Run Woman

You’ll have to bear with me — I’m writing this with a VERY big head. My darling couldn’t stand my crowing any more; he’s now hiding in the bedroom pretending to take a nap. But since this is my blog, I can say and do what ever I want. And right now I feel like shouting out:

I KICKED SOME SERIOUS ASS TODAY!

Sure, the results may say 292 other runners kicked MY ass, but I will interpret the results as I see fit. And considering I not only PR’d, I also BEAT my goal of a 1:54 half marathon. My final time? 1:53:35 thankyouverymuch. And on a hilly course to boot. 14th in my age group (out of 104 runners), 293rd overall (out of 1050). WOOP WOOP!

I have been stressing over this race ever since I drove the course a couple weeks ago. It was the second “tune up” race of my training and I think I was just nervous that my results would tell me I was smoking crack rock for thinking I could run a full marathon in 4 hours. Mind you, I DO smoke crack rock — how do you think I’ve gotten so fast over the past few weeks? — but I know that doesn’t guarantee a BQ.

I kid, people! Sheesh. Everyone knows meth is the key to a BQ. (Mom and Dad, if you’re reading this, I am TOTALLY kidding. It’s just my little way of entertaining my legion of fan).

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Sheesh, for someone who calls herself a “non runner,” Nancy sure makes people run a lot. First there was “8 on the 8th,” THEN she wheedles us into “9 on the 9th.” Next thing I know she comes up with another hare-brained scheme: “10 on the 10th.” But while I dutifully join her in these shenanigans, does she reciprocate? NOOOOO. I asked her to run 22 miles on Dec. 22nd, and I don’t even think I got a response. HARRUMPH.

Oh! And get this: while 8 on the 8th and 9 on the 9th were in miles, for some reason she takes the easy way out with 10 on the 10th, making us run kilometers instead of miles (I think she needs to just go live with Pete Pfitzinger, ‘cuz she obviously isn’t a true American).

And while I’m on this rant, I have yet another beef: what’s with the freakin’ caveman getups? Doesn’t she realize I’m a zebra? Criminy.

Anyhoo, I’ve really had my panties in a wad over this, which mostly likely was the cause for the catastrophe that was my 10K: I DNF’d.

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One thing I’m finding with this program: one day you’re feeling great, collecting 1st Place ribbons and thinking you’re all that and a bag of chips, and the next day you feel like Sloggy McPlodster. But just when you think your BQ hopes are dashed, your body says, “Psych! Just wanted to see if you’re paying attention. We’ll go fast now.”

Once again it appears I’m not following the 10% rule, but it worked out better to do two long runs this week. With last Saturday’s 10K race, I pushed back my 18-miler to Sunday. I decided to do this week’s long run on my regular day (Saturday) since next week I’ll be tapering for the Kirkland Half Marathon, plus I have another long BUAL™ (barf up a lung) workout on Monday and wanted a day of rest between that and my long run.

Not only was this a high mileage week, I also achieved two milestones: I finally hit the 200-mile mark for the month (I was five miles shy for March), plus I’ve made great gains, er, losses with my weight:

(I apologize for the blatant nudity. I try to keep this a PG13 blog).

It’s been at least 12 years since I’ve seen that number (and actually that was a bit of a fluke; I had just returned from a 13-mile run. Once my darling and I scarfed on fish tacos, beer and ice cream, a couple pounds came back). I’ve been much more diligent with my diet (and by that I mean the food I eat; I’m not on any formal “diet”) and have curtailed a lot of the drinking. With five weeks to go before my marathon, I’ll be even more diligent. I probably won’t get down to my goal of 150 (not sure I want to at this point), but I know my pace has increased thanks to the decrease in weight.

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So I just checked the results from the Arlington “Walk & Roll” 10K and was surprised to see someone listed as the top female, 40-49. Turns out they have me listed as a male!!! (Although my time qualified me as the No. 3 male in that age group). There were 41 runners this year; I was No. 13 overall.

They might have the results listed incorrectly, but they can’t take that blue ribbon away from me!

May 3 update — I’m back to being a female again!

Not today.

Perhaps if you got me during my first lap.  After all, I was on a recovery run and my right calf was giving me grief.  I was running slowly, just enjoying my time outdoors.

But something funny happened after that first lap.  I stretched some more, and I loosened up.  I still forced myself to keep it slow; I’d go only as fast as felt good.  By the time you came up on me, I had run about 4.5 miles.  I felt GOOD.  “Spirit of the Marathon” was spurring me on.  I could hear the “slap, slap, slap” of your shoes against the gravel behind me, but I refused to slow to let you pass.  Did I mention I felt good?

Sure, if you had passed me I wouldn’t be disappointed.  I’ve come to understand and respect the role of the recovery run.  But I decided if you were going to pass me, you were going to work for it.  I don’t know what happened to you (heck, I don’t even know if you were a guy or a gal), but at some point I stopped hearing your foot falls.

Perhaps you were done, or perhaps you decided this old broad was too fast for you to pass.  Doesn’t matter, ‘cuz I felt GOOD.

Why would anyone want to drive almost 60 miles just to run a 10K race? Well, if you’re Ms. Follows-the-Rulester like I am, then you wouldn’t be asking that question.

As I’ve been yammering about for the past 12 weeks, I’ve been following the Pfitzinger “Advanced Marathoning” 18/55 training plan with hopes for a 4-hour BQ in June. As part of the program, Pete Pfitzinger (or “Pfitz” as I like to call him, us being pals and all) recommends running three “tune-up” races of 8-15K to monitor your marathon fitness level and prepare you mentally for racing.

That’s all well and good, but what Pfitzie (another pet name I have for him) is forgetting is that, unlike him — Mr. Kiwi — I live in AMERICA, so our races are in MILES. We have our 13.1-mile half marathons and our 3.1-mile 5Ks. Sure, I’ve heard about a handful of 6.2-mile races, and a couple of 4.96-mile ones, but 8-15K races? Please. Go back to where you came from, pal.

He calls for these races to be run on Saturdays, the day before your long run. Not only have I tweaked the schedule so my long runs fall on Saturdays (which would mean I’d have to run my tune-up races on Fridays), even if I DID follow the schedule to a T most races are held on Sundays. Doing my long runs on Monday ain’t an option.

But just when I resigned myself to running time trials instead of racing I saw on the NW Runner calendar that the Arlington “Walk and Roll” 10K had been rescheduled due to snow. The new date? Saturday, April 26. Huzzah! And since the race didn’t start until 11 a.m., I wouldn’t even have to drag my sorry butt out of bed at some ungodly hour.

Although I can’t recall ever visiting Arlington, I knew it was a small farm town an hour north of Seattle. I figured it wouldn’t be a big race — just a couple of local yokels with a stopwatch at the end. But hey — a race is a race!

To get an idea of what to expect I looked at the results from 2007. A whopping 35 people entered the 10K that year; the top woman in my age group finished in a little over 56 minutes. “I can beat that!” I exclaimed to no one in particular (although I did startle my kitty out of her slumber). When I plugged a 4-hour marathon into the McMillan Running Calculator, it said I should be running a 10K in a little over 51 minutes. It’d be a stretch, but that’s what I was shooting for.

I started having second thoughts about the race during my runs on the two days prior. My right calf was really tight, despite doing lots of stretching, and I couldn’t muster any more speed than just under 10-minute miles. But I figured I could always make the call on race day.

I awoke to an absolutely gorgeous morning — on the cool side, but not a cloud in the sky. As I ate my bowl of whole-grain cereal I entered the address for Haller Park (the race start) into Google Maps. Hmmm… it appears it’s in the middle of an industrial area. Could this possibly be a diabolical plot by the Arlington Runners Club to keep the ringer from Seattle from entering? I then Googled Haller Park and found a slightly different address for it on the web site for the Arlington Chamber of Commerce. When I entered that address into Google Maps nothing came up. Perhaps those Arlingtonites don’t want us city slickers coming to muck up their town.

I finally found some reliable directions on the Seattle Bike Tours web site (what the Arlington locals refer to as “Haller Park,” Google Maps and Mapquest call it “Arlington Park”). Crisis averted, I loaded my gear and 1-liter bottle of water into the car and took off, leaving my darling snoozing away in bed (he thought about joining me for the race but was up late shooting photos and getting hit on my drunken Seattle University alumnae since he conveniently “lost” his wedding ring. Bastard).

Where was I?

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Quick weekly recap, but stay tuned for the most awesomest race report. Or should I say, “stay tuned for a report on the most awesomest race.” But then again, is “awesomest” a word? Should it be “awesome-est”? I suppose all you English dorks majors would argue it should be “most awesome.” Or you may argue that hyperbole doesn’t belong in a measly race report — at least MY race report — ‘cuz after all I’m not Deena or Paula. But I AM getting faster. So I think I can crow a bit.

Umm… where was I? Oh yeah! My week in training:

Sunday: slacked off.

Monday: the second of my “barf up a lung” workouts, or, as I’ll now refer to it, BUAL™. 8 miles with 5 x 600 m sprints @ 5K pace. Although I was shooting for an 8 min/mile pace for each, I was able to run far faster without feeling totally wiped. As usual my first interval was REALLY fast (7:18 pace), but the rest were in the 7:39-7:44 range. Mind you, this was only for 600 meters; the real test will be when I have to do 1000-, 1200- and 1600-meter BUALs™

Tuesday: started my day with a much-needed restorative session in yoga with lots of stretching, particularly for our hips. Ended my day with an 11-mile long run around Lake Union (9:37 average pace).

Wednesday: whatever we did in yoga certainly caught up with me today — my butt and hips were killing me! Fortunately it was a rest day from running.

Thursday: 7.5-mile recovery run. Hips and butt muscles were still sore, so I welcomed the nice easy run. My darling joined me for the first couple of miles, then he finished up at his Speedy McSpeedster pace. I averaged 9:53 min/mile

Friday: gave myself a gold star today for doing my arm weight routine 3x a week for the past 4 weeks. Yeah me! My cook date went long so I wasn’t looking forward to that afternoon’s 12-mile long run. Didn’t head out until almost 5 p.m., which is late for me (I’m sure those of you who are stuck in an office until 6 or 7 p.m. are cursing me right now). My right calf was feeling really tight and I was very lethargic. However, I didn’t have much to eat during the day, so I’m sure that’s what contributed to it. I was concerned I wouldn’t be up for running the 10K race on Saturday, but since I’d be signing up day-of-race I figured I could bag it if I wasn’t feeling well. My pace was similar to yesterday’s: 9:54 min/mile.

Saturday: Walk & Roll 10K. It’s late, so I won’t be posting my race report until tomorrow. But I swear, you’ll be calling it Awesome McSplendidton. (Or maybe not; that’s kinda hard to say).

Yet another “Take it and Run” Thursday.  Our task this week was to write up something we’ve learned about running — in 13 words or less.  As the haiku queen, this was made for me!  (I’m hoping this introduction doesn’t count toward the 13 words):

23-mile run
Hot July air; the result?
Sweat stains on my boobs

My goodness, where has the time gone? I must apologize to you, dear readers, for I have been remiss. I know you wait with bated breath to read about the minutiae of my training, and I have failed you. As punishment, I will roll my IT band on the foam roller for a full hour.

Even though Pfitz is kicking my booty, dare I say it’s getting easier manageable. The weekday long runs are still a bitch, but my speed is increasing. My cross-training has primarily been limited to yoga and my weight/conditioning routine at the gym since I tend to get bored with laps at the pool and the weather hasn’t been conducive to biking. (As I write this I’m watching the snow fall — yes SNOW, on April 20; WTF? My poor tulips and daffodils are shivering). But hopefully I’ll be able to dust the Felt off soon and take it for a spin.

Week 10 recap (37.25 miles):

Sunday: Actually made it to the pool for 30 minutes of laps. I always feel great after a pool routine, but I never look forward to the “pool people.” They’re difficult to explain other than to say they’re “odd ducks.” You definitely know ’em when you see ’em. This week it was the guy who, rather than stand to the side at the shallow end while resting (as you’re supposed to), decides to stand about 10 feet out in the lane while gabbing with his friend. Both my darling and I would shoot our elbows out at him as we passed, hoping he’d get the hint and move.

Monday: 8-mile general aerobic run with an 8:57 average pace.

Tuesday: ran my first VO2 max run, or — as I believe it should be called — the “barf up a lung” run. The schedule called for an 8-mile VO2 max run with five 600-meter sprints at 5K pace. However, because I’d be running the Mt. Si Relay on Sunday I switched up my mileage a bit, increasing certain runs this week and decreasing others for next. Instead, my goal was to run 12 miles with the five 600-meter sprints at an 8 min/mile pace. I ran a 4-mile warm-up then hit the track. I went WAY too fast for the first one — 7:38 min/mile pace — but hit my target for the other four. I slowly jogged 90 seconds between each one. When I finished I still had about 5.25 miles to go to make up the 12 miles; UGH! By now I was running on dead legs so I decided I’d cut the run a mile short.

Wednesday: I was scheduled to do a 5-mile recovery run but was still rather wiped from the prior days’ speed work. I opted instead to walk to Trophy Cupcakes with my darling for a treat.

Thursday: I not only made up for the 5-mile recovery run, I tacked on another mile to make up for Tuesday’s shortcoming. Overall pace: 8:54.

Friday: Had a glorious 12.25-mile run around Seward Park and Lake Washington. The sun was shining and the smell of grass was in the air — from the freshly cut lawns to the more pungent odor wafting out of the cars at Colman Park.

Saturday: Rest day in preparation for the Mt. Si Relay.

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In my early 20s commitment was the farthest thing from my mind. I was a foot-loose and fancy-free single gal — I didn’t need nuthin’ or no one to tie me down. That philosophy served me well at the time, but as I matured I realized I was ready to settle down. I was ready to make a commitment.

My first wooed me with his promises. He respected my need for “me time,” never demanding my company for more than a couple of days a week. Our weekday trysts were short, yet intense; we saved our long encounters for the weekend. He made me feel great at first, but I began to sense things were moving too fast. I cut our weekday visits short, and sometimes avoided them altogether. I just don’t think I was ready for what he had to offer.

My second was recommended to me by my therapist. She thought his easy-going style would better fit my nature, plus he too respected my time. I was skeptical at first, but he soon won me over. Within five months I was professing my love for him in my diary; I just knew he was a keeper.

While others questioned my devotion to him — they felt our relationship made me less of a woman — I felt nothing but pure bliss. But a year into the courtship I started to feel pangs of want. I couldn’t put my finger on it, perhaps I was getting bored? Even though he assured me he’d provide everything I ever hoped for, the skepticism returned. I yearned for more. Within a month of our year anniversary we broke up, and I went it alone.

Three months later we hooked up again, albeit for a one-night stand. He was what I needed at that moment, but we both knew it wouldn’t last. I already had my sights set on someone else, someone much more exhilarating.

I’m now with my third and couldn’t be happier. Sure, he has a reputation of being a tough guy. He demands a lot and there are times I wonder if he’s asking too much of me. People who know him say it might not be obvious at first he loves me, but by sticking with him his true feelings will reveal themselves. But I gotta tell ‘ya: our sessions exhaust me; he’s insatiable!

You DO know I’m referring to my training plans, right?

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