What's Old is New

Last weekend, husband and I tossed about the idea of purchasing an iPod. Fortunately, we remained sane and left the store with $350+ still in our bank account. Nonetheless, we remain fascinated by the possibility of this little contraption which allows a person to download favorite tunes at random - such a novel concept. My husband and I both recall in our youth tape recording songs off the radio on the Sunday morning top 40 countdown. The tapes made from these expeditions always sounded like absolute crap from hitting the record button too late or not hitting the stop button soon enough, resulting in cut songs and too much commentary from Casey. Once again, I start feeling old. A younger law school colleague of my husband's received an iPod as a holiday present and has had a wonderful time downloading music. My husband relayed a story in which said colleague futilely attempted to locate the theme to CSI Miami, searching for it as the theme to CSI Miami. I just laughed. All three of the CSI shows use songs from The Who for the introduction. There is a generation that is being introduced to The Who through primetime tv. Likewise with the theme used for Num3ers on CBS, which uses the Talking Heads song "Once in a Lifetime." Television commercials use songs that were in vogue when my husband was a pubescent teenager.... What's old is now new again.

As far as running goes: last week I managed to stick my schedule well in terms of mileage. However, I did ditch the AT workout on Thursday, and ran an easy five miler on Friday morning instead. I've been experiencing "discomfort" in my feet and ankles lately and decided to scale back a bit.

This week's schedule:

Today: get my butt out the door and run 5
Tuesday: 12X200
Wednesday: rest
Thursday: 8 + strides
Friday: rest
Saturday: 5 with the in-training group
Sunday: 15

Total miles: 38

5K = OK

It has been two years since last I attempted a 5K race. Since the 10-miler in April went so tragically wrong, I decided to enter another race to get a gauge for fitness. Today, I ran a race in Duluth, Georgia. Duluth's biggest claim to fame of late has been the whole "runaway bride" fiasco. This 5K race only has about 200 runners participating, which is a refreshing change from many of the races in Atlanta proper.

I drove up this morning in time to give myself an hour to work through anxiety and prepare for the race. One thing I realized during this warm-up period was that I definitely needed to wash my hat. I felt like Pigpen from the Peanuts with little gnats flying around. No doubt they were drawn by the sweet stench of my Nike Dri-Fit hat that I'd been neglecting to wash. Recognizing how bad it was, I could barely stand myself.

Knowing this was a small race and I could possibly finish in the top 25-30 runners, I lined up at about the third row from the start. I pondered about the others who joined me there and whether they indeed needed to be so close. The race starts and we spirit off. I go through the first mile in a decent (for me) 6:50 split, according the guy calling out times. I hit the second mile slowing down a bit at 14:22. I think it was during the second mile that I was passed by not one, but two men pushing baby joggers. I made some comment to them about being utterly demoralized. They jokingly responded that they were assisted by some sort of propulsion system. The remainder of the course had two generous hills to conquer, so I really slowed down in the third mile (not sure what that split was). Nonetheless, I passed the men pushing the joggers and managed to come in ahead of them. Finish time: 23:44, second in my age group. I wasn't too disappointed. I had set a goal of coming under 24:00 minutes, which I accomplished. However, I still have much work to do in the upcoming months to get me where I'd like to be.

Reinforced for me during this race was the notion that you can't judge a runner by looking at them. My husband jokes about the "zombies" running ahead of me during certain races. A nine-year-old girl finished about 10 seconds ahead of me. There was a woman I noticed warming up who looked as though she'd kick butt. I passed her with about a quarter mile left in the race (and felt pretty good about it too). However, the woman who won my age group (4 seconds ahead of me) didn't look like Ms. Superfit or anything. Then again, neither do I....

Iron?

So far, so good on the schedule posted on Monday. I ran a little over eight miles yesterday and right on around five miles this evening.

I've started thinking about the reason why I'm tired much of the time. I think the constant pounding of running, combined with a diet that does not regularly include red meat perhaps has me a little low on iron. Although my morning cereal (eaten dry, without milk) is iron fortified, I'm probably just not getting enough. From what I've read, this condition is a common occurrence in distance runners, and being a woman doesn't help matters. This realization further reinforces the need for me to focus on diet. I need to fuel my body rather than comfort my tastebuds with cookies, chocolate and ice cream. One running resource (Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning) indicates that iron absorption can be aided by consuming a beverage such as orange juice in tandem, particularly over other beverage choices such as coffee or tea. Hopefully starting to take a multi-vitamin and paying better attention to iron intake will alleviate some of this low energy problem.

80's Music

On Saturday after wandering around our local big box media retailer, we walked away with a boxed set of 80's music. A trio collection of CDs with hits from the 80s. This week's song of the week is "Tempted," by Squeeze. "Tempted" earns this honor not because it reflects my state of mind (the only thing tempting me now is dark chocolate M&Ms), but rather just because it's a cool song. Listening to these tunes has me hearkening back to my youth. Mainly these songs remind of rollerskating as we went to the rink nearly every Sunday with a "Parents Without Partners" group that my father belonged to. Imagine the evening of desperate single parents looking for love, or at the very least someone with whom to share the couples skate sessions. Further, imagine the young awkward children, also looking for someone to skate with, quarters for video games and cash for snacks, drinks and the like. When I first met my husband, I argued that the 80s were a bastion for bad music. I was wrong, somewhat. The big hair bands spawned during this time period were horrid. But some of the pop from this time period is just classic to me - because it takes me to a place in time.

This upcoming weekend I've signed up for a 5K. I ran this race a couple of years ago and actually got some hardware but didn't even break 25:00. However, the field of competition was quite small. My goal is to come in under 24:00 on Saturday. We'll see how it goes. I look back to my college years running cross country and can't imagine how I could have rattled off times in the 22:00 minute range with far less mileage and focus than what I have now. Hopefully the speedwork and endurance I've fought for over the past year will yield results, more hardware, and a gauge of fitness.

This week's running schedule looks like this:

Today: rest
Tues: 8
Wed: 5
Thurs: 2 X 1 1/2 mi. AT
Fri: rest
Sat: 5K (probably 5 miles total)
Sun: Maybe 12?
Total: Hopefully around 35 for the week.

Transitions

It's been a while since I've posted because the whole chicken salad mess had me down and life was just plain busy.

I've been continuing my base building/race preparation for the upcoming 10K. I've managed to stay at or above 30 miles per week for the past couple of weeks and will build up to around a peak of 38 in the next few weeks prior to cutting back a bit before the race. My schedule has included something largely new to me: intervals. Last week I was tasked with 300 meter intervals, this week was 200s. The remaining speedwork on the schedule is 200s. The speed sessions are tough; I simultaneously look forward to and dread them. Hopefully I can increase my speed a bit to help me better reach my goal. I'm gearing the paces of these sessions towards a 48:00 10K time. That time goal may not be realistic, but it's a nice dream.

My life has entered a new phase as my husband has just completed his third and final year of law school. This transition seemed like such a milestone. However, it's merely a stepping stone along the path as the bar exam looms ahead toward the end of the summer. I equate law school and bar preparation much to marathon preparation. My husband is even preparing to stay at the "host hotel" of sorts near the testing location so as to avoid any mishaps in transit and to fully focus on the task of the two-day exam. Along the way, he'll study, do practice tests, etc. I equate this to daily training runs, interval sessions and tune up races.

Husband's graduation was also marked by a visit from my mother. I can run a marathon, but I have a tough time enduring a weekend visit from my mother. Previously I posted ruminations of a trip to Paris. Forget Paris. Right now, there's absolutely no way I could lead my mother and my sister around a foreign locale for a week. My mother's visit further confirmed in me the ultimate need for me to overcome my shyness. I learned from this visit that the reticence and discomfort of others makes me feel uncomfortable. Therefore, I know that in certain instances, my own reluctance to speak in social situations and general discomfort probably contributes significantly to a lack of ease in others. Basically, I can be no fun at times. Something I definitely need to work on.

This post has turned into a narcissistic self reflection. But I guess this blog is for me anyway. And all the literary voyeurs who like to look into my life.

My Chicken Salad Story

As planned, I ran the Sunset Stampede in Asheville, North Carolina this past weekend. The 10-mile race in this event proves an extraordinary challenge; after mile marker 2, the course is literally all uphill with switchbacks and steep climbs through to mile 5. At the fifth mile, a small group of cheerleaders with a cow bell ushers the runners into the downhill portion of the race which is essentially after mile 5 to mile 9.25.

On Saturday morning as I prepared my gear and obsessively checked to make sure I had all of the necessities (two pairs of running shoes, back up clothing, etc.), thunderstorms roared outside and rain poured down. This tempest was a harbinger of things to come. As I prepared to leave, I also learned that the bride-to-be from Duluth, Georgia, Jennifer Wilbanks, had not been kidnapped; rather, she’d escaped to the great western frontier with a bad case of cold feet. The fact that she used the excuse of “going out to run,” was so shameful. Most runners picked up on the fact that her disappearance was fishy given that most runners now have technical fabric apparel and would not wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt on a 50 degree night.

The drive from Atlanta to Asheville was full of rain. A traffic snafu north of Greenville, South Carolina gave me a chance to stop for a half hour, on the highway. After several minutes of sitting, I finally just shut the car off as I waited. Amazingly, with each state border crossing, the rain gradually subsided. In South Carolina, it was not so bad, crossing into North Carolina, the rain had completely stopped. I drove under tunnel-like cloud covering, at the end of which a verdant green of the Blue Ridge awaited.

I met up with a former running buddy and good friend. We determined we’d meet for lunch. After retrieving our race packets, we wandered around downtown Asheville in search of fuel for the upcoming race which started at 5:00 p.m. We settled on a small café and ate outside. I decided on a chicken salad sandwich and waffle cut fries. As we supped in the mountain breeze, a musician strummed a guitar. I also helped my compadre with an apple tart. Following the victuals, we roamed further to an awesome chocolate shop called The Chocolate Fetish (http://www.chocolatefetish.com) and purchased some tasty (and expensive) chocolate. This chocolate isn’t the kind a person simply wolfs down carelessly. It’s the kind of chocolate that demands savoring.

After sitting around and catching up, my running buddy and I proceeded to the race start where I made two portalet stops out of nervousness. Something just wasn’t right with me though. My legs felt achey. My innards felt yucky.

We saw Jared from the Subway commercials who was working the crowd accompanied by a person enrobed in the guise of a large faux sub sandwich. It was thrilling.

The race starts. Running buddy and I crank out the first mile feeling pretty good in a fast time, 7:26. The next mile we slowed down a bit because we encountered some inclines. Then the hill that lasts for three miles began to break me down. My running buddy left me somewhere around mile four, but I could still see her up ahead. I felt awful. I wished that I would simply throw up just so I could feel better. My gut felt like a large heavy ugly greasy mass. I kept hope that soon the huge ongoing series of hills would end and I could simply flow on down the last half of the course. Along the way there were small children handing out water and a woman in an evening gown standing out by her mail box. My running buddy later told me that there was a woman in an evening gown handing out water at a water stop; I’d missed her in my stomach stupor. After the cow bells, I began to feel even worse. My stomach seized and felt as though someone was repeatedly stabbing me with each footfall. I found it difficult to breath. Every single smell (someone cooking dinner, tires, oxygen) made me want to vomit my brains out. Finally I the pain subsided and I tried to pick up the pace a little bit, but I still felt like a giant running turd. I was being passed by so many other runners that it was simply demoralizing. Men with baby joggers. Weird men who weren’t moving their arms. People who were talking about their great grandchildren. Around mile 7.5, a woman asked me if I was tracking time on my watch. I replied that yes, I was, and for the first time saw how very slow I was going. She actually just wanted to look at my Garmin watch because someone had recently purchased on for her.

I continued on, slogging my way to the finish line with a rather disappointing 1:32:26 finish time. I can run a marathon at a faster pace than that! My running pal came in about nine minutes prior. I was pissed at myself for being so stupid. Chicken salad? French fries? Stupid. I never want another chicken salad sandwich again. Ever.

Nonetheless, I had a great time with the one person other than my husband that I feel comes close to understanding me. My running buddy and I had some terrific conversations and a good time wandering around Asheville.

Next year, just a Powerbar for lunch. No chicken salad.