Just One Marathon

The New Me: Old and Forgetful

Two days. Two good runs. Two demoralizing experiences. Here’s how it all went down.

Tuesday: Are You Talkin' to Me?

I decided to check out an indoor track near our house. It’s a 400 metre track inside one of those ugly sports dome monstrosities. But it’s convenient – just moments away and open seven days a week. When I arrived, the teenager staffing the front desk oriented me to the dome, explained the rules and outlined the costs. “It’s $9 a visit, or $43 a month”, he explained, then he glanced at my grey hair and paused. “Unless … ummm … how old are you?”

I felt a deadly calm come over me. Was this little twerp actually offering me the seniors’ discount?! I looked him straight in the eye and said, “You’d better not be asking me what I think you’re asking me.” His gaze faltered. “Uhhh, no, um, that’s not right. No, of course not. That’ll be $9.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said,” I replied. “Now just take the money and let’s both forget this ever happened.” (Okay, I didn’t say that last part out loud. But I definitely said it with my steely-eyed stare.)

After that, well, let’s just say I was very motivated to look kick-ass fast during my intervals.

Thursday: It's Not the Years, Honey, It's the Mileage

I ran to work, a distance of just under 10K. Running to work is a bit of a logistical challenge. I’ve got to bring in clothes the day before, then pare down all my possessions to the few I’m willing to carry with me on my run (passcard, Blackberry, keys, cash). I have a locker at work, with all my toiletries, makeup and a towel, so that I can quickly shower and change once I arrive. On Thursday morning, I thought I had it all under control. I had remembered to bring an outfit to work on Wednesday – even the shoes and jewellery.

I had a pretty good run. I started out with the intention of doing a tempo run. However, on a hilly route with snowy, slippery pavement, I just didn’t have it in me to pick up my speed. Instead, I aimed for a steady pace on the hills, and I think I achieved that. I made it to work in just under an hour – pretty decent time on a route with 10+ traffic lights.

Unfortunately, on arriving, I discovered that I’d forgotten the key to my locker. That meant I had no access to the soap, towel, shampoo, hair brush and make up stored just on the other side of the thin metal locker door. Fine. People of my advanced age are resourceful, right? I grabbed a handful of paper towels from the washroom, used a process of vigorous rubbing to substitute for soap in the shower (not as fun as it sounds), then finger-combed my hair, pinched my cheeks and went out to face the day. Everything went smoothly until the end of the day when I discovered what else I’d forgotten: a coat and boots to wear on the bus ride home. A kind friend from the office took pity and offered me a ride. We had a great chat and I was dropped right to my door in plenty of time to shuttle my youngest son to hockey practice.

So what could have been a really frustrating day actually ended on a really positive note. I’m not feeling quite as philosophical about becoming a member of seniors’ discount club, though.

The Real Walk of Shame

So there I was on Sunday morning, in a strange city, slinking home wearing my short shorts, bright pink halter top and shoes that (I hope) make me look like a fast woman.

Yup, I was doing the walk of shame.But not the one you’re thinking of, pervy reader! Get your minds out of the gutter (and away from the hyperlinks)!! Nah, I was doing the runner’s walk of shame – you know, the one where you start out speedy and full of hope on a long run and end up exhausted and beat, walking it in, hoping you don’t run into anyone you know.

I have no one to blame but myself. Our family was in Montreal on the weekend. And even though I knew my Sunday morning run would take me further than I’ve gone in months, I basically spent Saturday carousing -- shopping, eating rich food, drinking wine, neglecting my hydration and staying up late. I didn’t act like a person planning to run 24K the next morning. And guess what? I wasn’t a person who ran 24K the next morning. I ran 12 good kilometres, 10 more slow ones, and then walked the final 2. And I only walked because I couldn’t find a cab. I wasn’t injured -- I just felt tired beyond belief.  

It was very discouraging. The only positive was the enjoyable route I took along the Lachine Canal pathway. I got to see some very cool parts of the beautiful, vibrant, diverse and historical city of Montreal. What an amazing place for a terrible run.  

A Brimming Glassful of Whine

I’m not loving January. Circumstances have combined to turn this month into one long, miserable series of unfortunate events. Here’s why.

It’s cold and snowy. Yes, I live in Ottawa and, no, I’m not surprised. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

There’s too much hockey. My son’s minor league hockey team has become the monster that eats our weekends. Last weekend, for example, I was volunteer coordinator for the Peewee C Tournament, a job that’s just as glamorous and exciting as it sounds. This weekend, his team has two games, and no doubt, there will be at least one late-afternoon weekday practice necessitating a frantic trip through rush-hour traffic. Enough already.

 

There’s too much of everything else. The Runner I Married has been travelling, work has been incredibly hectic, my eldest son is wrapping up his semester and studying for his first set of high-school exams, and despite my good intentions, I’m starting to fall behind on my own studies.

 

There’s not enough running. I sold my bib in last Sunday’s Hypothermic Half-Marathon because I knew I’d be busy with the tournament. And believe me, running 21K in -21C probably would have been more relaxing. On a day-to-day basis, the snow makes running extremely difficult. I’ve been slipping and sliding around, feeling for my footing and having to slow my pace considerably – and I need all the pace I can get. I can probably also chalk up my decreasing speeds to the fact that I’ve been missing scheduled runs as often as I’ve been actually making them.

 

There are no buses. Ottawa has just settled a seven-week bus strike. Yes, that’s seven weeks without public transit, in the middle of winter. Though the union and city reached an agreement yesterday, they say it will take at least a week to get any buses on the road and three months to get the whole system up and running. Union leaders, workers, politicians, crazy commuters: a pox on all your houses.

 

Needless to day, although it’s officially six days past the most depressing day of the year, I’ve still got a raging case of the January blahs. But with the end of the month in sight, I hope to be back to a glass-half-full state of mind soon.

All of the Above

Here’s a multiple choice question for you. You have packed up your gym bag in preparation for a run or a workout during your lunch break. Which of the following would you rather forget?

 

A. A towel. (Giving you the option of air-drying – not really viable if you’ve got to put on panty-hose or another similarly body-hugging garment afterwards – or using those nasty rash-producing brown paper towels from the bathroom dispenser.)

B. Running socks. (This is the worst piece of running gear to forget, because it simply does not provide an adequate excuse to skip your run. You must run anyways, shoving your bare feet into what are probably the smelliest two items you possess. If you have to forget running gear, forget the shoes – a definitive run-stopper.)

C. Your Garmin. (If you go for a run in the forest, and there’s no Garmin to record it, did you really run at all?)

D. Post-run clean underwear. (A situation which forces you to decide on whether to forgo the extra layer between your naughty bits and the elements during your run, or go about your post-run business in a skivvie-deprived state … a problem you can’t really share with anyone except your friends in the blog world, because telling people you’re not wearing underpants at an afternoon meeting likely qualifies as harassment. There’s a reason they’re called “unmentionables”.)

Me, I can’t decide. So I’ll probably just go on forgetting one or the other every couple of weeks until I come up with the correct answer. Dammit.

...And Then What?

"Beginning Monday 19 May, you will enter the final phase of your pre-race taper. Some of you will feel very heavy, and your usual sunny disposition won’t be quite so sunny. Warn those close to you and be aware that your mood may be off. This is a normal reaction to the reduction in your training mileage.” – Words of wisdom from Tom, our marathon clinic leader

Why wait until Monday? Despite being early into a gradual two-week reduction of miles, I’m already feeling a bit blue. The reason – and I feel stupid admitting this – is that this marathon training roller coaster will soon be over. Yes, there have been cold mornings, sore muscles and bloody toes. But there’s also been the excitement of preparing to do something I never thought I’d do. What will I do without the constant planning, worry and underlying excitement of preparing for race day? What’s next? 

My post-marathon plan-of-record is to quit and never run again. But who am I kidding? I’ve gotten used to this fit new body I’ve been building. I like feeling strong and powerful. And I love having a goal that excites me.

Nonetheless, another marathon is out of the question right now. I have already put too many other things on hold to do this. Plus, I am really, really, really starting to bore my friends and family, who have endured (with remarkable patience) endless one-sided conversations that must sound something like this: “Blah, blah, blah MARATHON, blah, blah, blah, BLISTERS, blah, blah, blah, GROIN PULL.” Um, sorry guys. And thanks.

So now I feel downright panicky about not having another motivating running goal on the horizon – something that will get my butt out the door on hot (and eventually) cold days. Something to visualize while I’m out there on the 10th kilometre of a 20+K run.

It feels like there’s a big, empty void, looming just beyond race day. Is this normal? And how do I make the feeling go away?

It Wasn't All Bad

If you’ve visited here more than once this week, you’re probably marvelling at how much whining I can do about a single run. You might be asking, “If you hate it so much, why do you keep doing it?” To which I answer: I have no idea.

Okay, I have one or two ideas. Even on a bad run, good things happen. Here’s what went well on my personal 32K tour of hell last Sunday:

·         I got faster. My pace has improved pretty significantly over the past few long runs. In fact, I might be running too fast and using up my store of energy before the run has finished. However, I don’t think that’s the whole story. I also think I’m getting stronger.

·         My form improved. A couple of weeks ago, we had a presentation at our running clinic on form and the presenter suggested a couple of things that have made a real difference for me:

o       Concentrate on a point in the distance when running. When I do this, it lifts my head away from my chest and dramatically increases my ability to draw a deep breath. That’s a very good thing.

o       Keep elbows down to relax hunched shoulders. Tried it, and my Quasimodo-like crouch is almost gone.

·         I am learning. I have been following the “30 and 1” method I’ve used to run half-marathons (30 minutes running, 1 minute walk). Everyone else in my group follows the Running Room method of “10 and 1s” (10 minutes running, 1 minute walking). I thought my 30-minute stretch of running would help me maintain momentum and keep up with the pack. For the first half of the run, it worked. But all the other runners in my pace group pulled past me at about 21K and finished minutes ahead of me. So why am I killing myself? Next week, I’ll try “10 and 1s” and see if I can keep up.

Also, I recovered pretty quickly. On Sunday night, I was no longer hobbling up and down stairs. On Monday, I wore heels. By Tuesday, I had stopped moaning involuntarily every time I got up from a chair. By the time our next 32K run rolls around in three weeks, I may even be ready to do it again.

I’ll post the long-run schedule for the weeks leading up to the marathon, in case you’re interested:

Sunday, April 20 – 23K

Sunday, April 27 – 29K

Sunday, May 4 – 32-freakin’-K (20 miles)

Sunday, May 11 – 23K

Sunday, May 18 – 6K

Sunday, May 25 – Marathon

Monday, May 26 – Quit and never run again

I am declaring an official end to this week’s whine-a-thon. Tomorrow’s topics: sunshine, rainbows, adorable puppies or something equally cheerful.

Another Brick in the Wall

How do I get myself into these things? That’s what I started thinking part-way into my 32K training run this morning, and haven’t stopped thinking it since. It started out well, but at about 24K, I lost a lot of energy. I fuelled the remainder of the run with iPod tunes (thank you, Bruce Springsteen) and fear of humiliation.

By the time I finished (it took 3 hours and 30 minutes), I was wiped. And I haven’t recovered since, despite a nap, several dozen visits to the bathroom (damned energy gels), lots of sympathy from my family (who really deserve more from me on a Sunday afternoon), and a constant diet of foods that are probably not doing anything to aid my recovery, since they consist mostly of white flour and refined sugar.

Can I be honest? At this point – and I know it’ll change – I don’t know how I can possibly run an additional 10 kilometres in order to complete a marathon distance. I’m not even sure I want to. Is this what The Wall looks like? Because right now, I can’t see over it, under it, or around it. Simon Pegg is not standing on the other side beckoning to me.

I know I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep and a day of rest. But I’m low-down right now. I’m not writing this to garner sympathy (although, if you’ve got any, bring it on!) but because my purpose in writing this blog is to chronicle all the highs and lows that an inexperienced, slow, barely-committed runner experiences in training the marathon. In fact, I think I’ll bookmark this entry for re-reading, in case I ever have delusions of running a second marathon.

That Hurt

When I started training for a marathon, I didn’t think it would be much harder than running a half-marathon. After all, 21K is a long way to run and I did that with relative ease (at least that’s how I remember it now). So doubling that distance would be more challenging, sure, but basically the same thing, right?

Wrong!

On Sunday, I ran 26K – the first time I’ve run substantially longer the half distance. It was the toughest run I’ve ever done. At 20K, my brain just stopped talking to my body. I used my primary muscles, the back-up muscles and then just lurched through the last two or three kilometers, swinging my legs forward from the hip like Frankenstein.

What kept me moving? Ralph did. He’s one of my running buddies from the marathon clinic I’m attending. He ran with me for the entire distance, setting a pace that was, for me, challenging but not impossible. Once or twice, I encouraged him to go ahead if he wanted to run faster. That might have been nice. Then I could have just given up – laid down in a snow bank and waited for spring. But Ralph would not hear of it. He just led the way, occasionally slowing down while I caught up and sometimes increasing his speed a little to keep me from slowing to a pace somewhere between a hobble and a shuffle (not sure which is faster – I will have to check the Garmin).

In addition to thanking Ralph for his support, I should probably apologize for the laser beams of hate I occasionally directed at the back of his blue running jacket during the last 5K of our run. And also say how sorry I am for the evil thoughts I had about him when he told me that it was mostly downhill after 18K, when there were actually several more (albeit small) hills to come.

That wasn’t me thinking those thoughts, Ralph, that was my screaming muscles.

When we got to the end of the run, I realized that although I'd gone far, I’ll have to add another 20K in order to make a marathon distance – essentially, run another half marathon. I wanted to weep. But I’m feeling better now for a couple of reasons. First of all, my body bounced back remarkably quickly. Nothing was too sore. Secondly, I don’t have to log another really big distance for two more weeks. Next Sunday’s long run is 19K, followed by 29K (!) the following week. Right now, I’m not thinking that far ahead, just putting one foot in front of the other, the way I did last Sunday.

Back to Real Life

Legs: sore

Toes: blistered

Motivation: dangerously low

Yup, the post-race blues are here and I got ‘em bad. I hesitate to put this in writing because it sounds so … well … so suck-y. But I’m disappointed I didn’t achieve the time I wanted (I was off by just over two minutes), and I’m surprised how crummy I felt during the two days following the race. Head cold, digestive problems, and quads so sore that every time I walked anywhere, the thought bubble above my head read something like this: “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch” (and so on, one “ouch” for each step). 

I think – no I know – I didn’t train as hard for this half-marathon as I did for my first one last spring because I don’t remember feeling this sore afterwards. And the idea of doing double this distance at the marathon in May? Horrifying. I know I will have to prepare better.

But there’s no time for wallowing in whiny self-recriminations. Today, I get back on the horse (otherwise known as the treadmill) for a very slow and easy canter … uh, run. On Thursday, I rejoin my marathon running group, which will be very good therapy.

In the meantime, I heard the following quote on The Cranky Middle Manager podcast and it seemed aimed right at me:

Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. -- Epicurus