Tuesday: nothing.
Yesterday: athletic gain at the expense of good planning. I grabbed the dog and headed out for a short run, but we got rolling and I was feeling good, so I decided to push to a 3 mile point, just to see. The dog was dragging a bit, but I was in his awkward pace zone--I couldn't go fast enough for his canter except on some of the downhills. Anyway, total: 21:20ish. This included a pee break (for the dog), waiting for cars, and running about a third on it on the shoulder, mostly on grass and/or pine needles. Since my best three mile time is only about a minute faster, I was pleasantly surprised. Although, I was pretty sick then and the weather was great yesterday.
And then we cut back through the forest and it got dark. I had to walk a few portions. By the time we got back to the road, the headlights were blinding, and then I realized my excellent choice of wardrobe: all black. Yep. Winner! total run/jogged/walked: 65ish minutes.
Had a decent weight workout after that, though. Lots of power cleans, with pushups, pike situps, delt flies, and clamshells.
TODAY: Gotta say, I'm sitting pretty right now. I'm eating leftover pizza, drinking chocolate milk, just had a nice run, and I have absolutely no schoolwork to worry about because I turned in my phosphocreatine shuttle paper yesterday, no illustration (well, sort of, but nothing pressing and I finished editing yesterday too), and the Macy's parade is on TV--actually, now it's a dog show, even better, and I'm going to totally plow through turkey and the works later and I can smell it cooking, and I've already done most of the prep, and after I finish this, I'm going to read a book for FUN. It's been weeks.
Plus I recently gained major street cred. Oh, yeah.
The dog and I jogged to the forest and did 1 loop. Total 75 minutes. And the scene this morning was great. Temps just around freezing, super duper stuff, and more people than usual (ie, zero or one) out running, including two guys with dogs. And one dog without anyone: the German Shepherd. But it can read! I just found out.
On our way back, we were on the opposite side of the road (the wrong side, but the shoulder is wide), and I looked ahead and saw a guy and a dog running towards us. No prob. We crossed the road to give them space. And then I heard the bark.
Oh, yeah, it was on. I stopped my dog and myself, locked into what felt like a strong stance, held out my hand, looked that GS in the eye, and told it to "back off", just once, and it ran off. It actually tucked its tail in between its legs, although perhaps was a combination of dejection and inbreeding (some GS dogs have a cringy sort of stance due to poor genetics). The lazy **** owner didn't bother opening her door this time, but started rapping on her window, but the dog was already in retreat by then. Ha, ha, your big bad dog is a wuss! We resumed our run and passed the guy with the dog. Maybe he was rushing to our aid, maybe he'd stopped, I wasn't paying attention, but he asked me how I was doing.
"Fine. Happy Thanksgiving!"
I was more than fine. I felt half total Boss, half, WTF? That dog has never backed off that quickly before. And then I realized that I was wearing my shirt from the Old Glory Trail Trot. It is one of those inclusive race shirts: all the distances are on it, 50 mile, 50K, and relays (maybe the 10 mile too, I can't remember). Plus the American Flag is on one of the shoulders. Maybe the GS saw "50 mile" and freaked. Like a wuss!
Wow, the German pinscher is a gorgeous dog...kind of looks like mine.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Monday, November 25, 2013
Winter!
It was -4 C when I ran this morning! I didn't sweat much--I definitely didn't feel any sweat on my face. That pooling of sweat on the underside of my chin...yeah, blech. Instead, my face felt cold, but dry and wonderful. The dog and I jogged about 80 minutes.
Some of the trails looked different due to a recent clean-up. One trail in particular has been cleared of debris, and I was surprised to see how many roots are actually on it. And I was surprised at how white its sand is. I hadn't noticed that before. It was almost as good as snow (in terms of minimalist aesthetic and inefficient footing/lack of ping).
I know which trail they should tackle next: one with especially protruding roots and deep piles of dead leaves. I had my worst trip and fall on this section before it was so covered. This morning, all I could do was keep my cadence and my feet up, and hope that it wouldn't hurt too much.
Some of the trails looked different due to a recent clean-up. One trail in particular has been cleared of debris, and I was surprised to see how many roots are actually on it. And I was surprised at how white its sand is. I hadn't noticed that before. It was almost as good as snow (in terms of minimalist aesthetic and inefficient footing/lack of ping).
I know which trail they should tackle next: one with especially protruding roots and deep piles of dead leaves. I had my worst trip and fall on this section before it was so covered. This morning, all I could do was keep my cadence and my feet up, and hope that it wouldn't hurt too much.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
~
Fri: walk
Sat: 25 minute jog
Sun: 30 minute jog, plus modest weight workout. My quads almost feel normal, although I didn't attempt any squats to check for sure. It had been a long time since I last trashed my legs this badly, if ever. It feels worse than after any of my marathons. Big time myofibril renos.
Amazingly, these jogs were truly recovery jogs, on the "annex" sandy and slightly hilly trails close to my house--these felt tough when I first moved here, but they were blissfully easy yesterday and today. The weather helped too: close to freezing today. I felt like I didn't even actually sweat this morning. Lovely. I've been waiting for this for so long! Too bad it wasn't a week earlier, but I just can't seem to shake too warm race weather, so I guess I just have to deal with it.
Anyway, it's taken only ten months, but now that I've finally acquired recovery run options that are convenient, I can run more. I just can't do as much without those super easy runs.
Sat: 25 minute jog
Sun: 30 minute jog, plus modest weight workout. My quads almost feel normal, although I didn't attempt any squats to check for sure. It had been a long time since I last trashed my legs this badly, if ever. It feels worse than after any of my marathons. Big time myofibril renos.
Amazingly, these jogs were truly recovery jogs, on the "annex" sandy and slightly hilly trails close to my house--these felt tough when I first moved here, but they were blissfully easy yesterday and today. The weather helped too: close to freezing today. I felt like I didn't even actually sweat this morning. Lovely. I've been waiting for this for so long! Too bad it wasn't a week earlier, but I just can't seem to shake too warm race weather, so I guess I just have to deal with it.
Anyway, it's taken only ten months, but now that I've finally acquired recovery run options that are convenient, I can run more. I just can't do as much without those super easy runs.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
My attempt to run home turned into a long walk
I managed about a mile on a nice firm sand path around a lake, but my quads wouldn't stop complaining. I experimented a bit with form, trying to see if activating glutes would make a difference (a bit) or cadence, or whatever, and then I realized things never really stopped hurting, but I'd managed to distract myself. I must remember this next time.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
recovery
This morning, while the dog and I walked in the annex (small forest), a runner passed us three times. I almost never see anyone else running in there. It was a sign: get back out there.
I still feel a bit tender, though, so I just did some light power cleans and pike situps*. However, tomorrow, I will attempt to run home from an exam. 8-ish miles. It might be mostly walking, or perhaps 3.5 hours of writing and pensive thinking and panicked guesstimating will coil the springs more tightly than I could ever imagine.
*I can't believe it's taken me this long to discover pike situps. I don't like core work because I find it either boring or fussy, and often both. Situps are ok because they are simple, but they sometimes take an awful lot of time to get to the burn. What typically happens is that I work up to about one hundred and then lose interest...I've done this a few times now. Admittedly, I haven't tried them with weights, but pike situps seem to do the trick just as well, and perhaps target my lower abs and hip flexors more. And pike situps are funny. Close the book, open the book, close the book, open the book. Or maybe a trap, a rusty old trap that doesn't close properly. That's more accurate.
I still feel a bit tender, though, so I just did some light power cleans and pike situps*. However, tomorrow, I will attempt to run home from an exam. 8-ish miles. It might be mostly walking, or perhaps 3.5 hours of writing and pensive thinking and panicked guesstimating will coil the springs more tightly than I could ever imagine.
*I can't believe it's taken me this long to discover pike situps. I don't like core work because I find it either boring or fussy, and often both. Situps are ok because they are simple, but they sometimes take an awful lot of time to get to the burn. What typically happens is that I work up to about one hundred and then lose interest...I've done this a few times now. Admittedly, I haven't tried them with weights, but pike situps seem to do the trick just as well, and perhaps target my lower abs and hip flexors more. And pike situps are funny. Close the book, open the book, close the book, open the book. Or maybe a trap, a rusty old trap that doesn't close properly. That's more accurate.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
How it went down
I slept pretty well and we got to the start at about 4:30 am without any issues. By the time I was in the corral, I was starting to feel too warm with a long-sleeved shirt, so I gave it to my husband to put in our drop bag (his race started later than mine). I had a tank top on over my bra, but I'd pinned my bib to my shorts because I wasn't sure how warm it would get. I wasn't crazy about the forecast high, but I figured I wouldn't be moving very quickly anyway.
I had my MP3 player tucked in my bra (and protected by a plastic bag just in case), but I didn't turn it on then. It was dark and I didn't need distractions. I put myself near the back of the pack and was soon dropped by almost everybody. The lights ahead of me faded into the gloom. However, it was easy letting everyone go on ahead (at other times, this has felt demoralizing if not scary). I was trailing someone somewhat closely during the stream crossings, though, which helped. There were four, and I could jump the first, but the rest were too wide--I tried, but I have poor depth perception even at the best of times and even though my light was adequate, I misjudged and got wet feet early on. Fortunately, I'm not unused to wet feet, and I wasn't worried about it. Meanwhile, it was really cool being in the dark all alone, rushing along a mysterious trail. Fog added to the intrigue. I had a flashlight, and there were glowsticks to mark the trail, but since some parts of the trail were narrow and through fields or forests without much undergrowth, it wasn't always easy to follow. A few times, I veered into brush, including thorns. However, there were only a few roots, and no rocks--there wasn't anything dangerous.
The first hour, and for most of the race, I was on my own. I had no expectations, actually, and I had music on standby; I felt really comfortable. That was my goal for the first two laps: wake up, then warm up. It was going to be a long haul, nearly 20 miles further than I'd ever gone before, and I needed to settle into a good groove.
I got to the first aid station a bit after 6:00 am. Just five miles. 10 percent, yeah! I can't remember if I took Coke and/or banana chunks then, but these, and water, were the only things I took from the aid stations. They also had cooked potatoes that looked really good, but I didn't want to burst my comfort bubble by asking about gluten (sometimes fries and other random things are coated in flour).
It was still dark, but the haze was lightening. At one point, I thought I was running along a precipice, but it turned out to be a lake. Sometime after that, I came to a confusing fork in the road. It looked like I should go straight, but there was also a path to the left with signs for the trail.
Uh-oh. I went down one option, and then down the other. And then I remembered the trail description: tadpole, stay right. The lap started at the tip of the tail, ran around the body, and back onto the tail. But I wasn't sure if I was where the body met the tail, or on some different part. Fortunately, two other runners caught up to me, confirmed that we should stay right, and I followed them. They pulled ahead and I went back into my bubble.
They saved me 7 extra miles. Turns out that some (most? all?) of the people ahead of me took the left turn. On the one hand, I felt almost guilty, as though I had cheated; on the other hand, I felt relieved because, though I hadn't majorly detoured during my prior 50 mile attempt/DNF, I'd gone mildly off-track a lot, and I wouldn't have wanted that miserable "learning experience" to have been for naught. It was before I'd found out that I can't do gluten, and I hadn't realized how weak I was then, and I probably wouldn't have made the first cut-off at any rate...but to DNF for the same sort of mistake a second time would have bit. I might as well have chowed down on those cooked potatoes.
Near the end of the first lap, it was becoming light enough to see; I was switching my flashlight on and off. It soon became apparent that we were back on the tail of the tadpole. Back to the stream crossings. This part of the trail was starting to get muddier, but it was still ok for running on at this point. It got progressively boggier. I keep my shoes loosely tied, and they didn't stay on my feet a couple of times, but I didn't lose them permanently or get them too full of mud.
There was also another potential false turn close to the end, but the two guys from before weren't too far ahead of me, and we sorted it out.
First lap: 10 miles, 2:06 or something like that. It was nice to return to the startpoint--lots of cheering. I ditched my flashlight, grabbed another gel, another bottle of mix, some more Coke and banana.
The second lap was pretty much like the first, except it was light, and I turned on my tunes. At the beginning, I met the lead woman (and lead runner), Connie Gardner, leading a pack in the other direction--she asked me if I was doing the 50 mile. Oh, so that's what the cheering was about. Were the two guys and I the first ones through the first lap? I told her there must have been a wrong turn. I figured I was ok, because my first five mile segment had taken about an hour, and I'd taken two hours overall to do ten. The math seemed legit, and well before my math moron stage (later on during long runs I attempt calculations, and fail). I figured that they would catch me.
But when? I made a few goals--please please don't catch me before the 5 mile aid station, the tadpole joint...etc. I decided if I could hold off until the last stream crossing, that would be great, and I wouldn't be a hindrance on the path, nor feel like I had someone breathing down my neck. I set off on the second loop and was like seeing the trail for the first time again!
And my feet hadn't retained any experience, either: downhill, heading toward one of the streams, I found myself in flight. I got good air. I'm not sure if I tripped or slipped: one instant, I was running, and the next, I wasn't connected to the ground anymore. I landed on my left knee, left shoulder, and left side of my face. My knee hurt, but I figured that maybe the shake loosened everything up. It actually did, and I went on without incident, although I realized later that my left knee was kind of bloody.
There were a couple of Air Force guys stationed at the tail-head junction of the tadpole, and there were other people at the other dodgy intersection, which really helped. Even though I'd been there before, I still almost messed up. The two guys were still just ahead of me, but at some point, I passed them. I don't recall when, maybe at the aid station. I tried to stick in their vicinity, but eventually I guess I drew ahead. EDIT: oh, I remember, I think: they stopped on the side to take care of business, and told me to not get too far away or whatever because I was part of their pack now. So I stayed just ahead of them for a while and eventually pulled away.
Second lap: about 2 hours. I was passed by Connie shortly before the last stream crossing. Not bad. Other people passed me later--unfortunately, I can't recall exactly when, and there more people out because the other races had started. I was pretty much an island of tunes around the body of the tadpole, and then I took an earbud out on the tail because it was nice to chat with oncoming runners there, plus much of this was single-track and thus I wanted to hear if anyone was catching up. At the end of the lap, I restocked and ditched my tank top. It was starting to get warm. I reapplied bodyglide after each lap after this, but still chafed. I have lats now. Ok, I'm a bit flabby too.
Third lap: about 2 hours. Same-same, a bit warmer, the sun came out, Coke and bananas, I was passed more often than I passed others, mud, sand, glorious tunes. Near the end of the lap, I started to feel sore. That wasn't a surprise.
The last time I ran about 30 miles, the last couple were quite wretched. This was a bit of a concern: was I facing 20 more miles of that? However, the hip-quad tightness didn't seem to get worse, and my core was fiiiine, amazingly...but uphills started to prove troublesome. However, once I got through the stream crossings and onto the body of the tadpole, and I knew for a fact that I'd gone farther than I ever had before, I felt overjoyed. Yeah, it hurt, but it wasn't getting worse, and I was still moving. I had been worried that the second last loop would be the worst mentally, but it was great. I've rarely, if ever, felt more uplifted. It was more than the usual endorphin rush. It felt close to intravenous Demerol (surely that story is already in this blog somewhere). Oh, so that's the runner's high. AH. Only took me, what, twelve years to get it? Now I can quit! (joking)
That glorious penultimate lap was also slow: about 2.5 hours. Oh, well! My husband had returned--he had finished his 50K in under 6.5 hours. I'm so proud of him. We heard about and signed up for these races last month, not really a last-minute decision, but neither of us had planned to run so far in November until then. Anyway, it was a big boost seeing him at the start/finish area. I ended up changing my socks and shoes because the mud and sand inside them was starting to bug me. Otherwise, I felt fine, sore, but ok.
The last loop, however, was a bit too much of more of the same, I guess. There were fewer people running by that point, which was kind of depressing. And I was starting to get annoyed with the trees. So many trees! There were a few sections through forest that seemed to elongate with each repetition, and I started thinking ungenerous thoughts about witch trees leading me astray. The lowest point in the entire race was during one of these sections. I walked uphill and
barely
made
it.
My thighs were so sore. I didn't have ITBS, nothing that sharp and localized, just burning. I tried to walk as quickly as I could when I couldn't run, and it felt like my knee joints were hyper-extending. I imagined a future of crawling up hills and, eventually, across the flats, and down hills. A three hour loop that would break me. Where the heck was that field with the weird smell that was just before the other field with rusted artifacts, including what looked like part of a moonshine still (I don't know for sure), that was just before the aid station? By this point, I had formed a general, though still hazy, expectation of the trail, but those trees stretched on forever.
And if I start talking about the sand, which was so many times worse....
I run in sand all the time. Doesn't mean I want to buy it dinner.
After from that (and what more could I expect from the Sandhills region, anyway?), the trails were fine. There was some variety, some challenging bits but nothing that extreme or difficult, and ten miles was a good distance for a lap, I thought.
Anyway, I got to the aid station, restocked, and thanked the volunteers again. They commented about my smile. Other people did too. Yeah, I guess I was enjoying myself. It's great seeing other people out running. I rarely see anyone else except on weekends, and usually it's just a couple of people or so. I don't mind running on my own, and I often prefer it. I sometimes find it hard to adjust to someone else's pace, sometimes I can't talk much because of cramps, and my dog and I have a pretty killer bond--but I like seeing other people out when I'm exercising. And, coming from urban areas where I saw many people exercising every day to a rural place where there just aren't that many people outside of their cars is sometimes a downer. So, anyway, I appreciated seeing the other race participants and volunteers--the latter were especially helpful! They refilled my water bottle for me while I scarfed down Coke and banana chunks.
The last time, though, my water and mix residue tasted funny. Probably my sense of taste was jacked up by this point, but I thought it tasted like soap, and it made me feel nauseated. So I didn't drink any water after that first dismal mouthful for the last five miles. This turned out to my advantage: it forced me to push through as quickly as possible. END THIS NOW.
Near the end, a girl passed me. I have no idea if she was a 50 miler, or relay runner--I figured that bib numbers 100-130 were for fifty milers somehow, but I didn't get a good look at hers. Anyway, I followed her toward a small ravine/marsh area, and I saw a man in black on the other side of the ravine going towards us. And then, when I got to the edge of the ravine, I saw her, but not him. My first running hallucination! I should have looked for a stump or something that could have tricked my eyes, but I was too focused on looking for Mr. Cash.
My last five mile section was a bit over an hour, while the 5 mile section before that took me nearly 1.5 hours. I even ran up some of the uphills.
It was nice to finish under 12 hours, that being my general expectation, no matter how much I'd tried to dispel it.
My stomach was messed up and I didn't eat any of the post-race barbeque even though it was gluten free. I managed to eat some salmon spread at home, though, and I think I fell asleep around 8 or 8:30.
The last two nights of sleep have been kind of rough with inflammation and sweating, but today I walked the dog and, more importantly, stood up without having to push myself off with my hands--I didn't even think about it. My goal is to run again by Friday, but I won't force it. I did some delt flies with light weights and might try some situps this evening to get back into the grind.
At any rate, the Old Glory Trail Trot was an excellent way to finally become an official ultramarathoner! Edit: I have to emphasize how pampered I felt by the volunteers and race staff--they really took care of me. The folks at the Old Glory Foundation were really kind, too.
Now what? I'm not sure. I'm still on the wait list for a January ultra, and I have no plans after that, although my husband talked about doing a marathon in March. I'm going to do a long run in December, maybe another 30 miles, just in case.
I had my MP3 player tucked in my bra (and protected by a plastic bag just in case), but I didn't turn it on then. It was dark and I didn't need distractions. I put myself near the back of the pack and was soon dropped by almost everybody. The lights ahead of me faded into the gloom. However, it was easy letting everyone go on ahead (at other times, this has felt demoralizing if not scary). I was trailing someone somewhat closely during the stream crossings, though, which helped. There were four, and I could jump the first, but the rest were too wide--I tried, but I have poor depth perception even at the best of times and even though my light was adequate, I misjudged and got wet feet early on. Fortunately, I'm not unused to wet feet, and I wasn't worried about it. Meanwhile, it was really cool being in the dark all alone, rushing along a mysterious trail. Fog added to the intrigue. I had a flashlight, and there were glowsticks to mark the trail, but since some parts of the trail were narrow and through fields or forests without much undergrowth, it wasn't always easy to follow. A few times, I veered into brush, including thorns. However, there were only a few roots, and no rocks--there wasn't anything dangerous.
The first hour, and for most of the race, I was on my own. I had no expectations, actually, and I had music on standby; I felt really comfortable. That was my goal for the first two laps: wake up, then warm up. It was going to be a long haul, nearly 20 miles further than I'd ever gone before, and I needed to settle into a good groove.
I got to the first aid station a bit after 6:00 am. Just five miles. 10 percent, yeah! I can't remember if I took Coke and/or banana chunks then, but these, and water, were the only things I took from the aid stations. They also had cooked potatoes that looked really good, but I didn't want to burst my comfort bubble by asking about gluten (sometimes fries and other random things are coated in flour).
It was still dark, but the haze was lightening. At one point, I thought I was running along a precipice, but it turned out to be a lake. Sometime after that, I came to a confusing fork in the road. It looked like I should go straight, but there was also a path to the left with signs for the trail.
Uh-oh. I went down one option, and then down the other. And then I remembered the trail description: tadpole, stay right. The lap started at the tip of the tail, ran around the body, and back onto the tail. But I wasn't sure if I was where the body met the tail, or on some different part. Fortunately, two other runners caught up to me, confirmed that we should stay right, and I followed them. They pulled ahead and I went back into my bubble.
They saved me 7 extra miles. Turns out that some (most? all?) of the people ahead of me took the left turn. On the one hand, I felt almost guilty, as though I had cheated; on the other hand, I felt relieved because, though I hadn't majorly detoured during my prior 50 mile attempt/DNF, I'd gone mildly off-track a lot, and I wouldn't have wanted that miserable "learning experience" to have been for naught. It was before I'd found out that I can't do gluten, and I hadn't realized how weak I was then, and I probably wouldn't have made the first cut-off at any rate...but to DNF for the same sort of mistake a second time would have bit. I might as well have chowed down on those cooked potatoes.
Near the end of the first lap, it was becoming light enough to see; I was switching my flashlight on and off. It soon became apparent that we were back on the tail of the tadpole. Back to the stream crossings. This part of the trail was starting to get muddier, but it was still ok for running on at this point. It got progressively boggier. I keep my shoes loosely tied, and they didn't stay on my feet a couple of times, but I didn't lose them permanently or get them too full of mud.
There was also another potential false turn close to the end, but the two guys from before weren't too far ahead of me, and we sorted it out.
First lap: 10 miles, 2:06 or something like that. It was nice to return to the startpoint--lots of cheering. I ditched my flashlight, grabbed another gel, another bottle of mix, some more Coke and banana.
The second lap was pretty much like the first, except it was light, and I turned on my tunes. At the beginning, I met the lead woman (and lead runner), Connie Gardner, leading a pack in the other direction--she asked me if I was doing the 50 mile. Oh, so that's what the cheering was about. Were the two guys and I the first ones through the first lap? I told her there must have been a wrong turn. I figured I was ok, because my first five mile segment had taken about an hour, and I'd taken two hours overall to do ten. The math seemed legit, and well before my math moron stage (later on during long runs I attempt calculations, and fail). I figured that they would catch me.
But when? I made a few goals--please please don't catch me before the 5 mile aid station, the tadpole joint...etc. I decided if I could hold off until the last stream crossing, that would be great, and I wouldn't be a hindrance on the path, nor feel like I had someone breathing down my neck. I set off on the second loop and was like seeing the trail for the first time again!
And my feet hadn't retained any experience, either: downhill, heading toward one of the streams, I found myself in flight. I got good air. I'm not sure if I tripped or slipped: one instant, I was running, and the next, I wasn't connected to the ground anymore. I landed on my left knee, left shoulder, and left side of my face. My knee hurt, but I figured that maybe the shake loosened everything up. It actually did, and I went on without incident, although I realized later that my left knee was kind of bloody.
There were a couple of Air Force guys stationed at the tail-head junction of the tadpole, and there were other people at the other dodgy intersection, which really helped. Even though I'd been there before, I still almost messed up. The two guys were still just ahead of me, but at some point, I passed them. I don't recall when, maybe at the aid station. I tried to stick in their vicinity, but eventually I guess I drew ahead. EDIT: oh, I remember, I think: they stopped on the side to take care of business, and told me to not get too far away or whatever because I was part of their pack now. So I stayed just ahead of them for a while and eventually pulled away.
Second lap: about 2 hours. I was passed by Connie shortly before the last stream crossing. Not bad. Other people passed me later--unfortunately, I can't recall exactly when, and there more people out because the other races had started. I was pretty much an island of tunes around the body of the tadpole, and then I took an earbud out on the tail because it was nice to chat with oncoming runners there, plus much of this was single-track and thus I wanted to hear if anyone was catching up. At the end of the lap, I restocked and ditched my tank top. It was starting to get warm. I reapplied bodyglide after each lap after this, but still chafed. I have lats now. Ok, I'm a bit flabby too.
Third lap: about 2 hours. Same-same, a bit warmer, the sun came out, Coke and bananas, I was passed more often than I passed others, mud, sand, glorious tunes. Near the end of the lap, I started to feel sore. That wasn't a surprise.
The last time I ran about 30 miles, the last couple were quite wretched. This was a bit of a concern: was I facing 20 more miles of that? However, the hip-quad tightness didn't seem to get worse, and my core was fiiiine, amazingly...but uphills started to prove troublesome. However, once I got through the stream crossings and onto the body of the tadpole, and I knew for a fact that I'd gone farther than I ever had before, I felt overjoyed. Yeah, it hurt, but it wasn't getting worse, and I was still moving. I had been worried that the second last loop would be the worst mentally, but it was great. I've rarely, if ever, felt more uplifted. It was more than the usual endorphin rush. It felt close to intravenous Demerol (surely that story is already in this blog somewhere). Oh, so that's the runner's high. AH. Only took me, what, twelve years to get it? Now I can quit! (joking)
That glorious penultimate lap was also slow: about 2.5 hours. Oh, well! My husband had returned--he had finished his 50K in under 6.5 hours. I'm so proud of him. We heard about and signed up for these races last month, not really a last-minute decision, but neither of us had planned to run so far in November until then. Anyway, it was a big boost seeing him at the start/finish area. I ended up changing my socks and shoes because the mud and sand inside them was starting to bug me. Otherwise, I felt fine, sore, but ok.
The last loop, however, was a bit too much of more of the same, I guess. There were fewer people running by that point, which was kind of depressing. And I was starting to get annoyed with the trees. So many trees! There were a few sections through forest that seemed to elongate with each repetition, and I started thinking ungenerous thoughts about witch trees leading me astray. The lowest point in the entire race was during one of these sections. I walked uphill and
barely
made
it.
My thighs were so sore. I didn't have ITBS, nothing that sharp and localized, just burning. I tried to walk as quickly as I could when I couldn't run, and it felt like my knee joints were hyper-extending. I imagined a future of crawling up hills and, eventually, across the flats, and down hills. A three hour loop that would break me. Where the heck was that field with the weird smell that was just before the other field with rusted artifacts, including what looked like part of a moonshine still (I don't know for sure), that was just before the aid station? By this point, I had formed a general, though still hazy, expectation of the trail, but those trees stretched on forever.
And if I start talking about the sand, which was so many times worse....
I run in sand all the time. Doesn't mean I want to buy it dinner.
After from that (and what more could I expect from the Sandhills region, anyway?), the trails were fine. There was some variety, some challenging bits but nothing that extreme or difficult, and ten miles was a good distance for a lap, I thought.
Anyway, I got to the aid station, restocked, and thanked the volunteers again. They commented about my smile. Other people did too. Yeah, I guess I was enjoying myself. It's great seeing other people out running. I rarely see anyone else except on weekends, and usually it's just a couple of people or so. I don't mind running on my own, and I often prefer it. I sometimes find it hard to adjust to someone else's pace, sometimes I can't talk much because of cramps, and my dog and I have a pretty killer bond--but I like seeing other people out when I'm exercising. And, coming from urban areas where I saw many people exercising every day to a rural place where there just aren't that many people outside of their cars is sometimes a downer. So, anyway, I appreciated seeing the other race participants and volunteers--the latter were especially helpful! They refilled my water bottle for me while I scarfed down Coke and banana chunks.
The last time, though, my water and mix residue tasted funny. Probably my sense of taste was jacked up by this point, but I thought it tasted like soap, and it made me feel nauseated. So I didn't drink any water after that first dismal mouthful for the last five miles. This turned out to my advantage: it forced me to push through as quickly as possible. END THIS NOW.
Near the end, a girl passed me. I have no idea if she was a 50 miler, or relay runner--I figured that bib numbers 100-130 were for fifty milers somehow, but I didn't get a good look at hers. Anyway, I followed her toward a small ravine/marsh area, and I saw a man in black on the other side of the ravine going towards us. And then, when I got to the edge of the ravine, I saw her, but not him. My first running hallucination! I should have looked for a stump or something that could have tricked my eyes, but I was too focused on looking for Mr. Cash.
My last five mile section was a bit over an hour, while the 5 mile section before that took me nearly 1.5 hours. I even ran up some of the uphills.
It was nice to finish under 12 hours, that being my general expectation, no matter how much I'd tried to dispel it.
My stomach was messed up and I didn't eat any of the post-race barbeque even though it was gluten free. I managed to eat some salmon spread at home, though, and I think I fell asleep around 8 or 8:30.
The last two nights of sleep have been kind of rough with inflammation and sweating, but today I walked the dog and, more importantly, stood up without having to push myself off with my hands--I didn't even think about it. My goal is to run again by Friday, but I won't force it. I did some delt flies with light weights and might try some situps this evening to get back into the grind.
At any rate, the Old Glory Trail Trot was an excellent way to finally become an official ultramarathoner! Edit: I have to emphasize how pampered I felt by the volunteers and race staff--they really took care of me. The folks at the Old Glory Foundation were really kind, too.
Now what? I'm not sure. I'm still on the wait list for a January ultra, and I have no plans after that, although my husband talked about doing a marathon in March. I'm going to do a long run in December, maybe another 30 miles, just in case.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
I'm an ultramarathoner! For real!
A lot of it was a blur; hopefully that means this post won't be too long. My husband and I ran the Old Glory Trail Trot.
After a while, time sort of ceased to be linear, so I'll just recap the highlights.
The good:
I got used to running with femurs of fire much more than expected. My quads gave up on uphills after about 30 miles, but I was able to run downhill right to the end.
I'm an ultramarathoner!
My core didn't hurt at all, though my stomach got kind of upset after my last water refill tasted funky--I thought it tasted like soap, my husband thought it tasted chalky...not sure if it was the water or voodoo. It was likely just my sense of taste gone awry. (EDIT: highly doubt it was the water--probably some sort of chemical reaction due to the mix sitting out for so long in a warm day, and I didn't empty my bottle at the water station, just refilled it). At this point, I'd been going for ten hours.
I didn't lose my shoes in the mud!
Everybody was so nice! The other runners were cool, and the race staff were INCREDIBLE! SOOO helpful. They helped me refill my water bottles and helped me clean a wound at one point. The race was hosted by a horse farm and the staff were also super cool. One guy helped me hose off most of the mud at the end, and offered me use of an indoor shower--I did take up his offer of an indoor bathroom to change. Much better than a portaloo.
Miles 30-40 were euphoric! Really. I realized that I'd run further than ever before (well, technically after mile 31 or 32), and I was still feeling surprisingly strong even beyond the final frontier. I never had that thrill during my first marathon nor the times I've run over that distance--it took me completely by surprise.
And I didn't really get lost. A bunch of people ended up doing about seven extra miles, and these trails weren't forgiving. Had that happened to me, I might have lost heart and quit. But, fortunately, I was so slow on the first lap in the dark that I didn't get swept off course by the front
runners. I had my moments of bushwhacking in the dark, and I had to backtrack a bit (twice) at one intersection, but not more than a few minutes. I'm wondering if this is the intersection where others got lost.
Running with tunes ROCKS. Utterly ROCKS. OMG, that was my saving grace. I had a mix of trance, ambient, and Laurie Anderson, and though I didn't make a playlist and didn't mess around with it except during a low point when I wanted to listen to One Thousand Suns umpteen times in a row, the songs that came up were perfect. It seemed that whenever an ambient song or Laurie came up, I was reading for something more meditative, and then the return of trance was well-timed and pumptastic. I'm going to use tunes for future ultras, if I run anymore, but I don't want to get into the habit.
And, TMI, I had just one poop before the race--victory! pre-5 am is not one of my usual times, and even on the best of days, it's usually multi-daily, and races are worse--but I guess my bowels never even woke up! In general, I'm very proud of my guts. They held in there great until the soapy/chalky/wtf water.
Oh, yeah, and I saw my very first running hallucination. I was running toward a ravine and I saw a guy in black running toward me, and then he dipped out of view--and vanished. There was nowhere he could have gone. I suppose I saw a tree and my brain tricked me. I'd read about running hallucinations and was curious about experiencing one.
The bad:
After mile 40, things got pokey. I had to switch shoes and socks because they were filled with mud and sand, and my 2nd pair of shoes weren't a good choice.
Because I found out that at least a few of the 50 mile runners had done 7 (!!!) extracurricular miles, I felt guilty. For some of the 2nd lap, I may have actually been in the lead, but I was caught eventually by the people more deserving of spots on the podium.
Sand sand sand sand. The muddy portions were short and the stream crossings were decent, no loose slimy rocks, but there were miles and miles of stupid loose sand.
Way too warm--a few hours of 23 C, so I sweated off bodyglide despite a few reapplications and my lats are now developed enough--still puny, but there--that they chafe against my arms, which they didn't use to do even when I was, uh, squishier in general.
I'm not sure I'll ever get my feet entirely clean again.
I kept running off the trails while it was still dark, including into thorn bushes more than once. Some of the trails were weaving single track and kind of hard to follow even with a light.
I also ran into thornbushes a few times after dawn. I somehow pricked my left index finger and it feels fine now, but was a distraction during the race.
I should check if my tetanus shot is current.
The really ugly.
I bailed spectacularly on a downhill during 2nd loop, when it was light. I hit the ground with the left side of my head, my left shoulder, and my left knee, and it looked kind of gruesome, especially my knee. Someone took my photo and then a volunteer helped me clean the wounds as best as possible, and I scrubbed as much dirt out as I could in the shower, but I couldn't get every last bit out. Hopefully, my jaw isn't going to start to get stiff.
Stupid stupid sand! And I'm keeping it clean here!
But hey, for a supposedly tough 50 mile trail race, I didn't fare too badly! 11-ish hours--I kept to 12 minute miles until 30 (these felt comparable to 9:00/mile on roads, just jogging, but tiring after a while), and then that wasn't feeling so hot anymore, but my last 5 miles was only just over an hour. I was told that this is one of the toughest 50 milers out there, and that sand really sucked, but my DNF race was considerably worse because of loose rocks and a lot more water. And there were hardly any roots to contend with. I suppose the footing wasn't "technical", but draining.
My husband did well too, 50 K in 6:30, and he's actually moving around. As for me, I think I'm going to get fused to this couch.
After a while, time sort of ceased to be linear, so I'll just recap the highlights.
The good:
I got used to running with femurs of fire much more than expected. My quads gave up on uphills after about 30 miles, but I was able to run downhill right to the end.
I'm an ultramarathoner!
My core didn't hurt at all, though my stomach got kind of upset after my last water refill tasted funky--I thought it tasted like soap, my husband thought it tasted chalky...not sure if it was the water or voodoo. It was likely just my sense of taste gone awry. (EDIT: highly doubt it was the water--probably some sort of chemical reaction due to the mix sitting out for so long in a warm day, and I didn't empty my bottle at the water station, just refilled it). At this point, I'd been going for ten hours.
I didn't lose my shoes in the mud!
Everybody was so nice! The other runners were cool, and the race staff were INCREDIBLE! SOOO helpful. They helped me refill my water bottles and helped me clean a wound at one point. The race was hosted by a horse farm and the staff were also super cool. One guy helped me hose off most of the mud at the end, and offered me use of an indoor shower--I did take up his offer of an indoor bathroom to change. Much better than a portaloo.
Miles 30-40 were euphoric! Really. I realized that I'd run further than ever before (well, technically after mile 31 or 32), and I was still feeling surprisingly strong even beyond the final frontier. I never had that thrill during my first marathon nor the times I've run over that distance--it took me completely by surprise.
And I didn't really get lost. A bunch of people ended up doing about seven extra miles, and these trails weren't forgiving. Had that happened to me, I might have lost heart and quit. But, fortunately, I was so slow on the first lap in the dark that I didn't get swept off course by the front
runners. I had my moments of bushwhacking in the dark, and I had to backtrack a bit (twice) at one intersection, but not more than a few minutes. I'm wondering if this is the intersection where others got lost.
Running with tunes ROCKS. Utterly ROCKS. OMG, that was my saving grace. I had a mix of trance, ambient, and Laurie Anderson, and though I didn't make a playlist and didn't mess around with it except during a low point when I wanted to listen to One Thousand Suns umpteen times in a row, the songs that came up were perfect. It seemed that whenever an ambient song or Laurie came up, I was reading for something more meditative, and then the return of trance was well-timed and pumptastic. I'm going to use tunes for future ultras, if I run anymore, but I don't want to get into the habit.
And, TMI, I had just one poop before the race--victory! pre-5 am is not one of my usual times, and even on the best of days, it's usually multi-daily, and races are worse--but I guess my bowels never even woke up! In general, I'm very proud of my guts. They held in there great until the soapy/chalky/wtf water.
Oh, yeah, and I saw my very first running hallucination. I was running toward a ravine and I saw a guy in black running toward me, and then he dipped out of view--and vanished. There was nowhere he could have gone. I suppose I saw a tree and my brain tricked me. I'd read about running hallucinations and was curious about experiencing one.
The bad:
After mile 40, things got pokey. I had to switch shoes and socks because they were filled with mud and sand, and my 2nd pair of shoes weren't a good choice.
Because I found out that at least a few of the 50 mile runners had done 7 (!!!) extracurricular miles, I felt guilty. For some of the 2nd lap, I may have actually been in the lead, but I was caught eventually by the people more deserving of spots on the podium.
Sand sand sand sand. The muddy portions were short and the stream crossings were decent, no loose slimy rocks, but there were miles and miles of stupid loose sand.
Way too warm--a few hours of 23 C, so I sweated off bodyglide despite a few reapplications and my lats are now developed enough--still puny, but there--that they chafe against my arms, which they didn't use to do even when I was, uh, squishier in general.
I'm not sure I'll ever get my feet entirely clean again.
I kept running off the trails while it was still dark, including into thorn bushes more than once. Some of the trails were weaving single track and kind of hard to follow even with a light.
I also ran into thornbushes a few times after dawn. I somehow pricked my left index finger and it feels fine now, but was a distraction during the race.
I should check if my tetanus shot is current.
The really ugly.
I bailed spectacularly on a downhill during 2nd loop, when it was light. I hit the ground with the left side of my head, my left shoulder, and my left knee, and it looked kind of gruesome, especially my knee. Someone took my photo and then a volunteer helped me clean the wounds as best as possible, and I scrubbed as much dirt out as I could in the shower, but I couldn't get every last bit out. Hopefully, my jaw isn't going to start to get stiff.
Stupid stupid sand! And I'm keeping it clean here!
But hey, for a supposedly tough 50 mile trail race, I didn't fare too badly! 11-ish hours--I kept to 12 minute miles until 30 (these felt comparable to 9:00/mile on roads, just jogging, but tiring after a while), and then that wasn't feeling so hot anymore, but my last 5 miles was only just over an hour. I was told that this is one of the toughest 50 milers out there, and that sand really sucked, but my DNF race was considerably worse because of loose rocks and a lot more water. And there were hardly any roots to contend with. I suppose the footing wasn't "technical", but draining.
My husband did well too, 50 K in 6:30, and he's actually moving around. As for me, I think I'm going to get fused to this couch.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
bounce trounce
My taper has mainly consisted of not bolting about for the past two or three days. It's a hard habit to break. Resisting feels disappointing and even uncomfortable. When I was a kid, my father tried to stop me from running up the stairs by making me walk up them however many times I'd run up them to that point. Finally, somewhere past 40 reps, he got bored and I was left to dash with impunity. I wasn't even trying to be a brat: I just couldn't help myself. It feels so good. I've even bolted in various workplaces. Stairs and working odd shifts without too many people about helps a lot. Wearing polypro booties doesn't always, but I refrain from bolting around corners as much as possible.
Anyway, I've bolted only twice in the past two days. It feels really weird. This is the first bolt-free taper I've attempted. Surely I'm very tightly coiled by now.
And I've been eating a lot. I'm presently eating kimchi and rice (I have no issues with chili peppers, just gluten), and then I'll eat some pasta. Meanwhile, I'm also putting together my kit. Thank goodness it's a loop course--I'm bringing what looks like a lot of food, but I will be able to get at it roughly every 2 hours/10 miles (hopefully I'm not slower than that--I'm really hoping that these trails are tight). I don't know what they'll have at the aid stations that I can risk. Even potato chips can be dodgy. So I'm bringing my own, plus I'm going to bake GF pizza tonight and bring that too, and maybe some more kimchi and rice as well. It would rock if they had GF hotdogs there. Hotdogs are super mid run snacks.
Other things I've ingested during long runs and races include beer (before I found out about the gluten issue, but I always had light beers which went fine), ice cream, bubble tea, various smoothies including this killer beet-carrot-ginger combo a store at home makes, hotdogs, sausages, Indian desserts, Persian desserts, sesame balls, coffee, French fries, hotdogs, pasta (controlling volume is very important with pasta), bananas, stupid bananas, sushi, fudge, random Asian snack foods, meat-on-a-stick, Doritos, hotdogs, and Makgeolli which I JUST learned has wheat in it. No wonder it really messed me up--it was downright malignant, that stuff. The most painful time was actually after a race. I was the only non-Korean at this race (I was actually using a South African friend's bib, but we figured that there wouldn't be an issue with packet pickup because all white people look alike anyway, and they do after a while), and so I made a bunch of acquaintances, and one of them gave me a cup of what I assumed was soy milk. Oh, no, it wasn't. But I was polite and finished it, and then I suffered through stomach cramps during a performance of Henry Purcell's Dido and Aeneas that evening, and then I went to my friend's birthday party (bar crawl? I can't remember), but I lasted until only 2 or 3 am because hair of the dog doesn't work too well with soju, got into a cab, which got into a minor accident, and the language barrier and cramps became too much and I bailed and spent the next hour and a half walking home. I still miss Seoul a lot.
Anyway, with eating on the run, the trick is to take it super easy and let it settle down for a bit, and not immediately leap into action. And I can't have apples. Oranges and lemonade are fine, but apples usually give me stomach cramps unless I have just a little bit. In general, I don't mess with fruit except bananas.
At any rate, I am going to be bringing tunes to this thing. I've never run with tunes except on the TM and during one winter in Ottawa when I was running on the Canal--plenty of room on the ice--and those weren't even tunes but microbiology lectures. Usually there's enough to see or think about without music (it's sometimes fun to determine precisely why I'm feeling so rotten), but I'm going to need all the help I can get tomorrow. I figure the first 10 or 20 miles, I'll be fine, and then I'll likely be too smelly to socialize anyway. The high will be 24 C.
Anyway, I've bolted only twice in the past two days. It feels really weird. This is the first bolt-free taper I've attempted. Surely I'm very tightly coiled by now.
And I've been eating a lot. I'm presently eating kimchi and rice (I have no issues with chili peppers, just gluten), and then I'll eat some pasta. Meanwhile, I'm also putting together my kit. Thank goodness it's a loop course--I'm bringing what looks like a lot of food, but I will be able to get at it roughly every 2 hours/10 miles (hopefully I'm not slower than that--I'm really hoping that these trails are tight). I don't know what they'll have at the aid stations that I can risk. Even potato chips can be dodgy. So I'm bringing my own, plus I'm going to bake GF pizza tonight and bring that too, and maybe some more kimchi and rice as well. It would rock if they had GF hotdogs there. Hotdogs are super mid run snacks.
Other things I've ingested during long runs and races include beer (before I found out about the gluten issue, but I always had light beers which went fine), ice cream, bubble tea, various smoothies including this killer beet-carrot-ginger combo a store at home makes, hotdogs, sausages, Indian desserts, Persian desserts, sesame balls, coffee, French fries, hotdogs, pasta (controlling volume is very important with pasta), bananas, stupid bananas, sushi, fudge, random Asian snack foods, meat-on-a-stick, Doritos, hotdogs, and Makgeolli which I JUST learned has wheat in it. No wonder it really messed me up--it was downright malignant, that stuff. The most painful time was actually after a race. I was the only non-Korean at this race (I was actually using a South African friend's bib, but we figured that there wouldn't be an issue with packet pickup because all white people look alike anyway, and they do after a while), and so I made a bunch of acquaintances, and one of them gave me a cup of what I assumed was soy milk. Oh, no, it wasn't. But I was polite and finished it, and then I suffered through stomach cramps during a performance of Henry Purcell's Dido and Aeneas that evening, and then I went to my friend's birthday party (bar crawl? I can't remember), but I lasted until only 2 or 3 am because hair of the dog doesn't work too well with soju, got into a cab, which got into a minor accident, and the language barrier and cramps became too much and I bailed and spent the next hour and a half walking home. I still miss Seoul a lot.
Anyway, with eating on the run, the trick is to take it super easy and let it settle down for a bit, and not immediately leap into action. And I can't have apples. Oranges and lemonade are fine, but apples usually give me stomach cramps unless I have just a little bit. In general, I don't mess with fruit except bananas.
At any rate, I am going to be bringing tunes to this thing. I've never run with tunes except on the TM and during one winter in Ottawa when I was running on the Canal--plenty of room on the ice--and those weren't even tunes but microbiology lectures. Usually there's enough to see or think about without music (it's sometimes fun to determine precisely why I'm feeling so rotten), but I'm going to need all the help I can get tomorrow. I figure the first 10 or 20 miles, I'll be fine, and then I'll likely be too smelly to socialize anyway. The high will be 24 C.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Cold front
STAY! STAY!
A lovely -5 C this morning, and then I jogged 8 miles back from an exam in a still decent 11 C and I'm feeling pretty relaxed...I love this weather. I've been waiting for it for months. The only drawback is that everybody's bundled up, even indoors, and while I was writing my exam, I could smell cigarette smoke on people's jackets. For three hours. Worth it.
But this is a cold front, and not normal temps, and we're going to swing toward the opposite extreme just in time for the weekend, yay! When I'm supposed to jog/walk 50 miles! Yippee! At least the previously rumoured forecast of a high of 80 F doesn't look likely, but, man, cut me some slack! What's wrong with this nice refreshing high of 11 or 12 C or whatever? So far, it's looking like the low will be that, if I'm lucky.
{remove obscene warm weather in late November rant}
Whatever. Really, Dixie, is this the best you got? You pulled this shit when I ran the OBX marathon several years ago (that was the first time I saw another runner pass out, I think), but I got through it.
Even better, I have to start at the ridiculous hour of 5 am (I'm kind of bitter about that because, when I signed up, the start time was listed as 9 am), so I should be mostly almost comfortable for the first few hours, as long as it's not so humid that I stop sweating, and then hopefully I will stay in the endorphin funzone until I get sick/bored of running and/or injured and then, heck yeah, I'll have a walk in the tropics. Seriously easy going. Which is exactly the attitude I need for this thing because I've never actually done 50 miles before. My last attempt was a DNF.
Whatever.
A lovely -5 C this morning, and then I jogged 8 miles back from an exam in a still decent 11 C and I'm feeling pretty relaxed...I love this weather. I've been waiting for it for months. The only drawback is that everybody's bundled up, even indoors, and while I was writing my exam, I could smell cigarette smoke on people's jackets. For three hours. Worth it.
But this is a cold front, and not normal temps, and we're going to swing toward the opposite extreme just in time for the weekend, yay! When I'm supposed to jog/walk 50 miles! Yippee! At least the previously rumoured forecast of a high of 80 F doesn't look likely, but, man, cut me some slack! What's wrong with this nice refreshing high of 11 or 12 C or whatever? So far, it's looking like the low will be that, if I'm lucky.
{remove obscene warm weather in late November rant}
Whatever. Really, Dixie, is this the best you got? You pulled this shit when I ran the OBX marathon several years ago (that was the first time I saw another runner pass out, I think), but I got through it.
Even better, I have to start at the ridiculous hour of 5 am (I'm kind of bitter about that because, when I signed up, the start time was listed as 9 am), so I should be mostly almost comfortable for the first few hours, as long as it's not so humid that I stop sweating, and then hopefully I will stay in the endorphin funzone until I get sick/bored of running and/or injured and then, heck yeah, I'll have a walk in the tropics. Seriously easy going. Which is exactly the attitude I need for this thing because I've never actually done 50 miles before. My last attempt was a DNF.
Whatever.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
////////////
Saturday: 1/2 hour jog, tide too high (soft sand) but still decent compared to the sand here
Sunday: 2 hour jog, well-timed and nearly perfect except for the camber of the sand was a bit tiring after a while, and there were a couple of loose dogs.
Monday: 1/2 hour jog, even better timed and nearly perfect except for one rather memorable loose dog, once it broke free of a toddler's leg--more about that--
Tues: 3 hour jog, great weather (7-12 C), but back to the soft torn up pocked sand, liberally seasoned with leaves, pine needles, roots, branches, horse poop (but no snakes this time). Some of the horse poop was fresh.
Ok, Monday, we ran on the beach, and the sand was practically perfect. Flat, firm, and not too many shells or loose dogs. WHY DO PEOPLE LET THEIR STUPID DOGS LOOSE? There are signs all over the place stating that dogs must be leashed. I keep thinking I'm going to lose my shit the next time I hear "Oh, but he's friendly" or some other variant, or see that certain apologetic helpless smile: dogs, what can you do, eh? Heck no, you're better than this! Buy a leash! It's not rocket surgery.
Anyway, without loose dogs to wonder about, I got into a zone, and then I saw a large-ish dog sitting with a small-ish kid on the beach, close to an adult surf fishing. Uh-huh. Let's see what happens. I hoped the adult would notice and secure the dog in time.
Nope! He caught a fish, saw us, but turned back to the surf, according to my husband. I was preoccupied by the dog and its advance. It probably weighed as much as the kid; it was no contest. The leash was around the kid's leg, and the dog hit a decent speed and dragged the kid several metres before the leash slipped off. Freed from resistance, it bolted after us.
My husband had our dog, so I intercepted the other dog and, after a couple of good pulls (how the heck did that adult ever think that such a small kid could match that strength?), it gave up, but not before it slid out of its collar. Fortunately, dogs aren't always that observant--every time I've popped or slipped the collar off a strange dog, I've been able to get it back on before it noticed. Same thing this time; I slid it back on before the dog bolted, and then I looked up, saw the bawling kid and the owner still fishing--it was a rather striking tableau actually. Tears and ocean spray, one captive hooked by a bloodied mouth, the other breaking free. I felt bad for the kid, but mainly ticked off because I was still holding this random dog and the owner (father? older brother) was apparently oblivious. Perhaps he couldn't hear the screaming. Perhaps he also didn't hear the words out of my mouth: "Come and get your fucking dog." Oh, yeah, oops. You know, for losing my shit, that was tame. I didn't even yell. But I glanced again at the kid and felt exceedingly low. At least he was too far away to hear me over his own wailing, I think. The dog heard me, at any rate, and it sat down and gazed at me with beautiful sad brown eyes. Sometimes, when I'm holding other people's dogs, I look into their eyes and see what looks like pleading. Take me with you. Take me away. I wish I could, but I can't. Not this time. I'm sorry. Finally, the owner grabbed it, said something apologetic, I replied, "it's ok", mostly to the dog, and we ran off, the kid still screaming in the background. I guess that's a good dose of childhood trauma right there. Fortunately they were absent on our way back.
Anyway, today's run was far less uneventful. I met one other person, another runner, about halfway through our first loop. I got excited because, even though I have no way of knowing what route a random runner will take nor even if they'll do a repeat, I want to beat them. Even with fit guys (and there are a number of SF guys living here), I have to try. Worse still, I was intending an extra-relaxing run, but I decided to squeeze some ping out of comfort. Just a bit. While I was back at the ranger station drinking out of a water fountain, she passed us and went back into the forest. Yeah, it was still on! I still took the hills lazily--I've been envisioning the hills lasting an hour apiece, in order to sink into the true lack of effort I'll need during a super long run--but I pushed on the nice downhills sections.
There are two, when I go clockwise. One of them isn't the best, still some sand and roots, but it's decent. The other is my favourite stretch. Even uphill/counter-clockwise, it's pretty nice. Downhill, though, it's a great mental and physical break. Pea gravel and dirt, gentle undulation, very few roots...even the snakes like it. Yeah, I've seen the most snakes on this stretch, including one of the copperheads. The trail had more dead leaves on it this time, and so my first pass was rather hesitant and a big downer because I was deprived of the best part.
However, on the second loop, I was on to beat the other runner and, as I approached the lovely snake stretch again, I remembered something I've learned recently thanks to an assignment: the appropriate antivenom, CroFab goes for all pit vipers. This is a great relief! Honestly, I've been a bit concerned about getting bit, failing to study the pattern adequately, and getting injected with the wrong antivenom. Nope, turns out that all the poisonous herps here are pit vipers, and pretty much all of the harmless ones are black. Surely I can hack that. It's not rocket surgery!
With that reassurance, I tore through that section. Wakey wakey, Snakey! I figured if I went fast enough, I would--actually, that's a really lousy attitude for avoiding predators, but it works great for picking up speed and a bit of a thrill.
But we didn't see the other runner at all! I was beginning to wonder if maybe she'd gotten bit instead, and we'd find her and run back to the ranger station and ask them to call an ambulance and rev up their four-wheeler or whatever their SOP for snake bite victims is. I think I overthink things but, honestly, running here is really, really, boring; I'm not into nature that much. Some weeks, my highlight has been reencountering the "Library Viking" guy (sadly, I haven't seen "Serious Green Shirt" guy or "Shirtless Zen" guy (who actually won the ultra last month here) in a while). I prefer urban rec paths because it's more interesting seeing a bunch of other people than trees and horse poop--actually scat can be intriguing, but I rarely see anything here but horse poop. There's no mystery in that.
We didn't get bit, we didn't see the other runner again, but I still felt a bit amped up so we did a third loop. 52, 47, 51 minutes. Total jogged just over three hours. No walking except down a short steep stretch that always makes me stumble unless I walk (it's a bunch of closely-packed roots covered with pine needles and then a few stairs, and I've failed to find a good line through it). This was decent though still easy run--I wanted to run relaxed for a while to get my body primed to soak up whatever it needs to soak up in prep for the ultra this weekend.
And now it's time to eat sensibly and rest. I'm undertrained but in decent shape. My guts are better now and the only weird glitch I seem to have is a pinch or something in my left hip (it happens when I squat or lunge with poor form: muscle and the hip bone have a bit of an altercation, and the hip bone wins). Funnily enough, I also rammed that exact area into the sharp corner of our counter earlier this morning. I am kind of bouncy and I get hurt in the house more often than outside it because of the corners and stairs and doorframes and so on. At least I don't have stairs in this place--two of our former dwellings didn't have enough clearance above stairs and I used to hit my head--and I'm short! At any rate, I have to tone it down for the next few days.
Sunday: 2 hour jog, well-timed and nearly perfect except for the camber of the sand was a bit tiring after a while, and there were a couple of loose dogs.
Monday: 1/2 hour jog, even better timed and nearly perfect except for one rather memorable loose dog, once it broke free of a toddler's leg--more about that--
Tues: 3 hour jog, great weather (7-12 C), but back to the soft torn up pocked sand, liberally seasoned with leaves, pine needles, roots, branches, horse poop (but no snakes this time). Some of the horse poop was fresh.
Ok, Monday, we ran on the beach, and the sand was practically perfect. Flat, firm, and not too many shells or loose dogs. WHY DO PEOPLE LET THEIR STUPID DOGS LOOSE? There are signs all over the place stating that dogs must be leashed. I keep thinking I'm going to lose my shit the next time I hear "Oh, but he's friendly" or some other variant, or see that certain apologetic helpless smile: dogs, what can you do, eh? Heck no, you're better than this! Buy a leash! It's not rocket surgery.
Anyway, without loose dogs to wonder about, I got into a zone, and then I saw a large-ish dog sitting with a small-ish kid on the beach, close to an adult surf fishing. Uh-huh. Let's see what happens. I hoped the adult would notice and secure the dog in time.
Nope! He caught a fish, saw us, but turned back to the surf, according to my husband. I was preoccupied by the dog and its advance. It probably weighed as much as the kid; it was no contest. The leash was around the kid's leg, and the dog hit a decent speed and dragged the kid several metres before the leash slipped off. Freed from resistance, it bolted after us.
My husband had our dog, so I intercepted the other dog and, after a couple of good pulls (how the heck did that adult ever think that such a small kid could match that strength?), it gave up, but not before it slid out of its collar. Fortunately, dogs aren't always that observant--every time I've popped or slipped the collar off a strange dog, I've been able to get it back on before it noticed. Same thing this time; I slid it back on before the dog bolted, and then I looked up, saw the bawling kid and the owner still fishing--it was a rather striking tableau actually. Tears and ocean spray, one captive hooked by a bloodied mouth, the other breaking free. I felt bad for the kid, but mainly ticked off because I was still holding this random dog and the owner (father? older brother) was apparently oblivious. Perhaps he couldn't hear the screaming. Perhaps he also didn't hear the words out of my mouth: "Come and get your fucking dog." Oh, yeah, oops. You know, for losing my shit, that was tame. I didn't even yell. But I glanced again at the kid and felt exceedingly low. At least he was too far away to hear me over his own wailing, I think. The dog heard me, at any rate, and it sat down and gazed at me with beautiful sad brown eyes. Sometimes, when I'm holding other people's dogs, I look into their eyes and see what looks like pleading. Take me with you. Take me away. I wish I could, but I can't. Not this time. I'm sorry. Finally, the owner grabbed it, said something apologetic, I replied, "it's ok", mostly to the dog, and we ran off, the kid still screaming in the background. I guess that's a good dose of childhood trauma right there. Fortunately they were absent on our way back.
Anyway, today's run was far less uneventful. I met one other person, another runner, about halfway through our first loop. I got excited because, even though I have no way of knowing what route a random runner will take nor even if they'll do a repeat, I want to beat them. Even with fit guys (and there are a number of SF guys living here), I have to try. Worse still, I was intending an extra-relaxing run, but I decided to squeeze some ping out of comfort. Just a bit. While I was back at the ranger station drinking out of a water fountain, she passed us and went back into the forest. Yeah, it was still on! I still took the hills lazily--I've been envisioning the hills lasting an hour apiece, in order to sink into the true lack of effort I'll need during a super long run--but I pushed on the nice downhills sections.
There are two, when I go clockwise. One of them isn't the best, still some sand and roots, but it's decent. The other is my favourite stretch. Even uphill/counter-clockwise, it's pretty nice. Downhill, though, it's a great mental and physical break. Pea gravel and dirt, gentle undulation, very few roots...even the snakes like it. Yeah, I've seen the most snakes on this stretch, including one of the copperheads. The trail had more dead leaves on it this time, and so my first pass was rather hesitant and a big downer because I was deprived of the best part.
However, on the second loop, I was on to beat the other runner and, as I approached the lovely snake stretch again, I remembered something I've learned recently thanks to an assignment: the appropriate antivenom, CroFab goes for all pit vipers. This is a great relief! Honestly, I've been a bit concerned about getting bit, failing to study the pattern adequately, and getting injected with the wrong antivenom. Nope, turns out that all the poisonous herps here are pit vipers, and pretty much all of the harmless ones are black. Surely I can hack that. It's not rocket surgery!
With that reassurance, I tore through that section. Wakey wakey, Snakey! I figured if I went fast enough, I would--actually, that's a really lousy attitude for avoiding predators, but it works great for picking up speed and a bit of a thrill.
But we didn't see the other runner at all! I was beginning to wonder if maybe she'd gotten bit instead, and we'd find her and run back to the ranger station and ask them to call an ambulance and rev up their four-wheeler or whatever their SOP for snake bite victims is. I think I overthink things but, honestly, running here is really, really, boring; I'm not into nature that much. Some weeks, my highlight has been reencountering the "Library Viking" guy (sadly, I haven't seen "Serious Green Shirt" guy or "Shirtless Zen" guy (who actually won the ultra last month here) in a while). I prefer urban rec paths because it's more interesting seeing a bunch of other people than trees and horse poop--actually scat can be intriguing, but I rarely see anything here but horse poop. There's no mystery in that.
We didn't get bit, we didn't see the other runner again, but I still felt a bit amped up so we did a third loop. 52, 47, 51 minutes. Total jogged just over three hours. No walking except down a short steep stretch that always makes me stumble unless I walk (it's a bunch of closely-packed roots covered with pine needles and then a few stairs, and I've failed to find a good line through it). This was decent though still easy run--I wanted to run relaxed for a while to get my body primed to soak up whatever it needs to soak up in prep for the ultra this weekend.
And now it's time to eat sensibly and rest. I'm undertrained but in decent shape. My guts are better now and the only weird glitch I seem to have is a pinch or something in my left hip (it happens when I squat or lunge with poor form: muscle and the hip bone have a bit of an altercation, and the hip bone wins). Funnily enough, I also rammed that exact area into the sharp corner of our counter earlier this morning. I am kind of bouncy and I get hurt in the house more often than outside it because of the corners and stairs and doorframes and so on. At least I don't have stairs in this place--two of our former dwellings didn't have enough clearance above stairs and I used to hit my head--and I'm short! At any rate, I have to tone it down for the next few days.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Goodbye, hills
I finished and submitted my essay--did you know that tuberculosis has its very own journal?--and now I have to throw a few things in a bag because we're going to the beach for a few days! That means more sand, but flat, and fresh fish. Gotta hand it to the Outer Banks.
I'm especially pumped because, for the past few days, I've been living on sweet potatoes and rice noodles. Fellow hosts of intestinal turmoil might recognize this as a variant of the classic bananas and congee/rice gut-calming diet. Throw ginger ale in there too, and it becomes a surprisingly comfortable menu. The longest I went on it was about two weeks. This was before I knew that gluten was the culprit, and so I gorged myself on it during Christmas before going to Asia, where my system jumped at the chance to purge itself once it realized that I'd switched completely to rice. Bye bye wheat, bye bye appetite. It was actually not unpleasant.
The only problem with the banana-rice-ginger ale trifecta is that I despise bananas. As bland and soothing as they are lower down, they provoke revulsion higher up. I loathe the taste and the texture often makes me gag. The more I eat them, the more I hate them. But their convenience can't be beat and so I choke them down.
Fortunately, there's also a good chunk of potassium in sweet potatoes! I'm probably missing out on vitamin C by nuking them, though, but a few days won't bring on scurvy. Plus, Emergen-C.
Even more fortunately, I broke my diet last night with a small slice of gluten-free pizza without ill effects, and so it's on. Fishies, beware.
I'd thought about lifting before we leave, but I still feel kind of drained. Maybe just a few power cleans for funsies.
I'm especially pumped because, for the past few days, I've been living on sweet potatoes and rice noodles. Fellow hosts of intestinal turmoil might recognize this as a variant of the classic bananas and congee/rice gut-calming diet. Throw ginger ale in there too, and it becomes a surprisingly comfortable menu. The longest I went on it was about two weeks. This was before I knew that gluten was the culprit, and so I gorged myself on it during Christmas before going to Asia, where my system jumped at the chance to purge itself once it realized that I'd switched completely to rice. Bye bye wheat, bye bye appetite. It was actually not unpleasant.
The only problem with the banana-rice-ginger ale trifecta is that I despise bananas. As bland and soothing as they are lower down, they provoke revulsion higher up. I loathe the taste and the texture often makes me gag. The more I eat them, the more I hate them. But their convenience can't be beat and so I choke them down.
Fortunately, there's also a good chunk of potassium in sweet potatoes! I'm probably missing out on vitamin C by nuking them, though, but a few days won't bring on scurvy. Plus, Emergen-C.
Even more fortunately, I broke my diet last night with a small slice of gluten-free pizza without ill effects, and so it's on. Fishies, beware.
I'd thought about lifting before we leave, but I still feel kind of drained. Maybe just a few power cleans for funsies.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
weights
Just a walk in the forest today. Matters have improved, and the forest is rather a forgiving environment, but the sustained internal jostling of running would have tempted fate.
But that's not a factor during weightlifting, especially in my garage with a bathroom steps away. Yeah! Although, I didn't do squats, just in case.
I repeated the impromptu workout I did last time:
power cleans
delt flies
pike situps
power cleans
clamshells
X3
It's short and targets what I can't neglect.
The power cleans were better today. I ended up with two sets at the heaviest weight I used last time and they felt fine. And I got reacquainted with a certain moment. Just after the starting exhalation, just after the first impulse, when muscular force is countered by mass X acceleration, the deciding tension yanks against my fingers (more so than my palms)--that tug tests commitment. When I haven't fully invested, the pull is spongy and slow, and the outcome is sloppy. However, if I've focused properly, the pull is sharper and stronger, and it provokes a violent response that strips away mass and fatigue. The bar disdains gravity and sails serenely upward. As though it launches from a dark pit of spikes into a cerulean sky, dragging me with it.
THIS is why I like this exercise! After weeks of struggling, it's back.
I tried to find music to capture this feeling, but failed (best I could think of was a combo of Autechre Fol3 and Lully's Te Deum, but I have no idea what to search for, what it would be called, nor even if it's been composed yet), but I discovered the Shredlord instead!
But that's not a factor during weightlifting, especially in my garage with a bathroom steps away. Yeah! Although, I didn't do squats, just in case.
I repeated the impromptu workout I did last time:
power cleans
delt flies
pike situps
power cleans
clamshells
X3
It's short and targets what I can't neglect.
The power cleans were better today. I ended up with two sets at the heaviest weight I used last time and they felt fine. And I got reacquainted with a certain moment. Just after the starting exhalation, just after the first impulse, when muscular force is countered by mass X acceleration, the deciding tension yanks against my fingers (more so than my palms)--that tug tests commitment. When I haven't fully invested, the pull is spongy and slow, and the outcome is sloppy. However, if I've focused properly, the pull is sharper and stronger, and it provokes a violent response that strips away mass and fatigue. The bar disdains gravity and sails serenely upward. As though it launches from a dark pit of spikes into a cerulean sky, dragging me with it.
THIS is why I like this exercise! After weeks of struggling, it's back.
I tried to find music to capture this feeling, but failed (best I could think of was a combo of Autechre Fol3 and Lully's Te Deum, but I have no idea what to search for, what it would be called, nor even if it's been composed yet), but I discovered the Shredlord instead!
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
!!! not about running at all!
Really shouldn't've sipped that beer. Blammo!
Eh, I didn't get enough sleep anyway for a decent run, once again. Distractions. The final stage of my final assignment for a immunology course includes an essay about a pathogen, and naturally I didn't start thinking about this until going to bed at about eleven because I'm most productive at night. Pick a Pathogen, Any Pathogen! Usually Pathogen picks YOU. Nice to have the choice for once! So I lay back and thought of the possibilities.
C. tentani can't be beat for individual drama, I think. There are other bugs with shocking symptoms and larger swaths of destruction, but risus sardonicus leading to full-on tetany is particularly spectacular.
And then, I turned to more noble considerations. The essay prompts include describing vaccination. What if I somehow found the missing key to crushing malarial merozoites? Millions of children would then survive and prosper, wiring their villages for electricity and internet = blogging.
But laziness and self-loathing prevailed. A virus is a simpler target, and influenza is just as epic. Antigenic variation pretty much screws the pooch (NOTE FROM THE DOG: STOP SAYING THIS ITS NOT FUNNY (the dog doesn't understand punctuation)), but it might be fun to describe the limitations of vaccines that are shots in the dark. Oh, let's pour millions of dollars into R&D for flu season next year, and meanwhile that devilish little bug is like, nah, I'm going to change this instead, 5'-GUAUUAAUAAXetc is the new black, smell ya later!
My hubris quickly led to despair, which led to fungi. Unfortunately, the only agent I could think of at that hour was C. albicans. Yeast infections. Yep. This led my ungenerous mind towards chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis and a certain Canadian large-breasted starlet and Josephine Bonaparte (who was possibly rendered sterile from a gonorrhea or chlamydia infection).
And then, in pursuit of lost innocence, I thought of childhood vaccinations. How about those diseases kids don't get to experience these days? Odd story about the MMR combined vaccine...when I was going through the U.S. greencard process, I had to pay an approved USCIS Civil Surgeon to sign my form I-693, and so my chest was x-rayed, blood was drawn, and my immunization records were looked at. I actually didn't meet the doctor in person and I don't know if he did much except notice that I hadn't been vaccinated for chickenpox = $$. I had had chickenpox but wasn't taken to the doctor because it was just chickenpox--I had no proof. I didn't think chickenpox was on the USCIS go list or whatever, but the doctor had latitude and it would've cost more to pay another Civil Surgeon to start over.
So, I got the shot for chickenpox (and possibly an invitation for mutant shingles later in life), and then Surgeon Greed took another look at my records and, oh, it was unclear that I'd had an MMR re-up= $$. Guess there wasn't enough of my blood sample left to check antibodies. The prospect of I-693's cost proliferating to four figures was dismaying; I was already out several hundred bucks. An army doctor (unfortunately not an approved Civil Surgeon) took a look at my records, re-transcribed my shot record, and put my dual MMR vaccinations in clearer context. Surgeon Greed signed my I-693, but he was evidently stripped of his Civil Surgeon designation by the time I had my USCIS interview. Yep, massive sketchiness, and potential complications: more $$, another random doctor off a list (no customer reviews available), another virtual rectal exam added to the routine. However, after a few anxious minutes clicking on the computer, my USCIS interviewer decided to just let it go. RELIEF! However, later on when I was working at a hospital and my blood antibodies were screened, it was discovered that I needed an MMR booster. So maybe Surgeon Greed was right after all. I could've caught mumps!
Meanwhile, I still haven't picked a pathogen. Present conditions remind me C. diff but feelings are still too raw. Not a nice way to wake up. No soup for you.
I have until Thursday. Back to the books!
Eh, I didn't get enough sleep anyway for a decent run, once again. Distractions. The final stage of my final assignment for a immunology course includes an essay about a pathogen, and naturally I didn't start thinking about this until going to bed at about eleven because I'm most productive at night. Pick a Pathogen, Any Pathogen! Usually Pathogen picks YOU. Nice to have the choice for once! So I lay back and thought of the possibilities.
C. tentani can't be beat for individual drama, I think. There are other bugs with shocking symptoms and larger swaths of destruction, but risus sardonicus leading to full-on tetany is particularly spectacular.
And then, I turned to more noble considerations. The essay prompts include describing vaccination. What if I somehow found the missing key to crushing malarial merozoites? Millions of children would then survive and prosper, wiring their villages for electricity and internet = blogging.
But laziness and self-loathing prevailed. A virus is a simpler target, and influenza is just as epic. Antigenic variation pretty much screws the pooch (NOTE FROM THE DOG: STOP SAYING THIS ITS NOT FUNNY (the dog doesn't understand punctuation)), but it might be fun to describe the limitations of vaccines that are shots in the dark. Oh, let's pour millions of dollars into R&D for flu season next year, and meanwhile that devilish little bug is like, nah, I'm going to change this instead, 5'-GUAUUAAUAAXetc is the new black, smell ya later!
My hubris quickly led to despair, which led to fungi. Unfortunately, the only agent I could think of at that hour was C. albicans. Yeast infections. Yep. This led my ungenerous mind towards chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis and a certain Canadian large-breasted starlet and Josephine Bonaparte (who was possibly rendered sterile from a gonorrhea or chlamydia infection).
And then, in pursuit of lost innocence, I thought of childhood vaccinations. How about those diseases kids don't get to experience these days? Odd story about the MMR combined vaccine...when I was going through the U.S. greencard process, I had to pay an approved USCIS Civil Surgeon to sign my form I-693, and so my chest was x-rayed, blood was drawn, and my immunization records were looked at. I actually didn't meet the doctor in person and I don't know if he did much except notice that I hadn't been vaccinated for chickenpox = $$. I had had chickenpox but wasn't taken to the doctor because it was just chickenpox--I had no proof. I didn't think chickenpox was on the USCIS go list or whatever, but the doctor had latitude and it would've cost more to pay another Civil Surgeon to start over.
So, I got the shot for chickenpox (and possibly an invitation for mutant shingles later in life), and then Surgeon Greed took another look at my records and, oh, it was unclear that I'd had an MMR re-up= $$. Guess there wasn't enough of my blood sample left to check antibodies. The prospect of I-693's cost proliferating to four figures was dismaying; I was already out several hundred bucks. An army doctor (unfortunately not an approved Civil Surgeon) took a look at my records, re-transcribed my shot record, and put my dual MMR vaccinations in clearer context. Surgeon Greed signed my I-693, but he was evidently stripped of his Civil Surgeon designation by the time I had my USCIS interview. Yep, massive sketchiness, and potential complications: more $$, another random doctor off a list (no customer reviews available), another virtual rectal exam added to the routine. However, after a few anxious minutes clicking on the computer, my USCIS interviewer decided to just let it go. RELIEF! However, later on when I was working at a hospital and my blood antibodies were screened, it was discovered that I needed an MMR booster. So maybe Surgeon Greed was right after all. I could've caught mumps!
Meanwhile, I still haven't picked a pathogen. Present conditions remind me C. diff but feelings are still too raw. Not a nice way to wake up. No soup for you.
I have until Thursday. Back to the books!
Monday, November 4, 2013
Tapering!
I'm once again dealing with a dietary reaction, but the weather is very agreeable. Only 10 C this morning! Easy 80 minute jog.
At any rate, the last back-to-back runs didn't happen this weekend, and now it's time to rest.
Easy running so I don't forget how to run
Lots of fluids to eliminate present gut inflammation
Lots of sleep to get out of debt
Supplements, mainly iron to plump up those RBCs. Even on trails, I squash a fair number of them and it doesn't help that I seem to be back to renting food. (The bright side is, dropping a few pounds sensibly will make things more comfortable on race day!)
A bit of weight lifting to keep the springs
I feel undertrained but in otherwise decent shape. The back tightness I was dealing with recently is mostly gone, and though the previous glitch in my left Achilles returned, it was not en force and I didn't even feel it this morning. The gluten-related inflammation is a bummer, though, and the same seemingly disparate quirks have returned: sore guts, yep, left knee somehow slides out of joint in my sleep and locks, yep (my right one does too, but my left one leads the way), weird respiratory discomfort, yep, right shoulder tightness, yep. But nothing is that bad and I have almost two weeks to get rid of it all.
Time to play gluten FBI. Possible culprits include a certain "gluten-free" beer--the gluten is removed and the batch tested to below 5 ppm, which seemed fine. Gluten-free food, at least in the States, just has to test below 20 ppm, and I don't think I've ever had any issues with that limit. And I had just one sip. One delicious sip, followed by a sinking feeling: I don't think I should be drinking this. Maybe I was right.
I've also eaten a bit of Hallowe'en candy, just stuff that is gluten-free according to manufacturers, but it's not stuff that's tested and I don't need to be eating it anyway. It had been a few weeks since I'd eaten candy, and I'd lost the taste for it, and I ate it mainly because I was bored! Serves me right!
I haven't eaten out in weeks, and haven't eaten anything else that I usually don't eat except for a new kind of almond meal; there's not much else that can account for it.
At any rate, the last back-to-back runs didn't happen this weekend, and now it's time to rest.
Easy running so I don't forget how to run
Lots of fluids to eliminate present gut inflammation
Lots of sleep to get out of debt
Supplements, mainly iron to plump up those RBCs. Even on trails, I squash a fair number of them and it doesn't help that I seem to be back to renting food. (The bright side is, dropping a few pounds sensibly will make things more comfortable on race day!)
A bit of weight lifting to keep the springs
I feel undertrained but in otherwise decent shape. The back tightness I was dealing with recently is mostly gone, and though the previous glitch in my left Achilles returned, it was not en force and I didn't even feel it this morning. The gluten-related inflammation is a bummer, though, and the same seemingly disparate quirks have returned: sore guts, yep, left knee somehow slides out of joint in my sleep and locks, yep (my right one does too, but my left one leads the way), weird respiratory discomfort, yep, right shoulder tightness, yep. But nothing is that bad and I have almost two weeks to get rid of it all.
Time to play gluten FBI. Possible culprits include a certain "gluten-free" beer--the gluten is removed and the batch tested to below 5 ppm, which seemed fine. Gluten-free food, at least in the States, just has to test below 20 ppm, and I don't think I've ever had any issues with that limit. And I had just one sip. One delicious sip, followed by a sinking feeling: I don't think I should be drinking this. Maybe I was right.
I've also eaten a bit of Hallowe'en candy, just stuff that is gluten-free according to manufacturers, but it's not stuff that's tested and I don't need to be eating it anyway. It had been a few weeks since I'd eaten candy, and I'd lost the taste for it, and I ate it mainly because I was bored! Serves me right!
I haven't eaten out in weeks, and haven't eaten anything else that I usually don't eat except for a new kind of almond meal; there's not much else that can account for it.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Multitasking!
While I'm making pancakes (in this case, hopeful long run fuel), I might as well try to figure out the vigorous highlights of a 1/2 week that apparently got swallowed up.
Every morning: walk/half-hearted short jog. It's been warm and humid.
On Friday morning, we met two loose dogs in the forest, a pit mix and a mystery. No owner in sight. So I stopped and moved so that the dogs wouldn't come straight at us, for my dog usually doesn't like meeting canine Lord Nelsons: "Never mind maneuvers, go straight at 'em!". Meanwhile I talked to the dogs and did my best to keep the mood light. I didn't know these dogs from Adam, but they didn't appear to be aggressive, and they weren't after all. The pit mix, another male, was pushy, but tempers didn't fray. The owner showed up after a minute, but failed to call off her dogs . By this point, we were on our way again with the dogs trailing us--and when I passed the owner, I managed to reciprocate her pleasantries with a smile (I'm taking a Bless your heart attitude to these people who either can't read or can't leash their dogs), but she stopped me. She said our dogs looked alike. As it turned out, they did: their heads were a similar shape, and, as it turned out, both of them had had their ears cropped off with scissors before they were "rehomed" with us. :( I told her that scissors were the scumbag tool of choice, and she laughed. That was nice. Very few people laugh at my jokes below the Mason Dixon line, even though I keep them very clean and non-political/non-religious. We talked some more, and while I don't agree with her dog-handling completely, especially since she admitted that her pit mix could be belligerent with other males and yet lets him run loose, we found some common ground.
Yesterday: 2 hr 15 min jog with the dog, and then weights. The jog was about as typical as they come: warmish weather, 21-22C and humid, but no major issues. The weights, however, were dramatic. I warmed up with some power cleans, 40 pounds below my all-time best, and then I cleaned and squatted 20 pounds below my all-time best--but just one rep. The clean was horrible and almost incomplete, and the squat was about as good. I'd miscalculated: I was tired out.
Yet I didn't walk away. Maybe I needed more of a warm up. I could still do the injury prevention stuff (delt flies and clamshells) and throw in some pike situps--but, above all else, I couldn't leave the power cleans messed up like that, not again. So I took off 20 pounds again and started over. I alternated between power cleans and other exercises. Once I felt more comfortable, I put 10 pounds back on and did some more reps. 10 more pounds, and more reps, and more confidence and, unexpectedly, more aggression and more speed. I realized then that I'd been overly cautious; I had to trust that my form was well-practiced enough. I had to become that pit mix and/or Lord Nelson: "Go straight at 'em!" Just fling it up. ASAP
And then, finally, I did three reps with 10 more pounds. Still 10 pounds under my all-time best, but that dates from a while ago--I was actually at my present max. It felt brutal--not painful or hard at all, but emotionally vicious. It was actually thrilling and cathartic. I would have done more reps, but my dog distracted me. He was lying on a pile of packing mats, like he usually does, and he knows better than to step on my square when I'm lifting stuff, but perhaps he sensed my sudden burst of temper and was coming over to check it out. Fortunately, he was not, and I completed my set. I wound up 10 pounds heavier than the first failed clean. Success!
I'm not so sure we'll salvage today's long run after all...we both seem to have a cold, or allergies.
EDIT: aw, I forgot to mention that 50 minutes of that jog was a fartlek session. I pushed on the parts of trails that I like, and slacked off on the annoying stretches. This was considerably slower than pushing through the entire loop, but I don't think my breathing dropped much at all during it. And it was more fun because I went faster on the nice bits.
Every morning: walk/half-hearted short jog. It's been warm and humid.
On Friday morning, we met two loose dogs in the forest, a pit mix and a mystery. No owner in sight. So I stopped and moved so that the dogs wouldn't come straight at us, for my dog usually doesn't like meeting canine Lord Nelsons: "Never mind maneuvers, go straight at 'em!". Meanwhile I talked to the dogs and did my best to keep the mood light. I didn't know these dogs from Adam, but they didn't appear to be aggressive, and they weren't after all. The pit mix, another male, was pushy, but tempers didn't fray. The owner showed up after a minute, but failed to call off her dogs . By this point, we were on our way again with the dogs trailing us--and when I passed the owner, I managed to reciprocate her pleasantries with a smile (I'm taking a Bless your heart attitude to these people who either can't read or can't leash their dogs), but she stopped me. She said our dogs looked alike. As it turned out, they did: their heads were a similar shape, and, as it turned out, both of them had had their ears cropped off with scissors before they were "rehomed" with us. :( I told her that scissors were the scumbag tool of choice, and she laughed. That was nice. Very few people laugh at my jokes below the Mason Dixon line, even though I keep them very clean and non-political/non-religious. We talked some more, and while I don't agree with her dog-handling completely, especially since she admitted that her pit mix could be belligerent with other males and yet lets him run loose, we found some common ground.
Yesterday: 2 hr 15 min jog with the dog, and then weights. The jog was about as typical as they come: warmish weather, 21-22C and humid, but no major issues. The weights, however, were dramatic. I warmed up with some power cleans, 40 pounds below my all-time best, and then I cleaned and squatted 20 pounds below my all-time best--but just one rep. The clean was horrible and almost incomplete, and the squat was about as good. I'd miscalculated: I was tired out.
Yet I didn't walk away. Maybe I needed more of a warm up. I could still do the injury prevention stuff (delt flies and clamshells) and throw in some pike situps--but, above all else, I couldn't leave the power cleans messed up like that, not again. So I took off 20 pounds again and started over. I alternated between power cleans and other exercises. Once I felt more comfortable, I put 10 pounds back on and did some more reps. 10 more pounds, and more reps, and more confidence and, unexpectedly, more aggression and more speed. I realized then that I'd been overly cautious; I had to trust that my form was well-practiced enough. I had to become that pit mix and/or Lord Nelson: "Go straight at 'em!" Just fling it up. ASAP
And then, finally, I did three reps with 10 more pounds. Still 10 pounds under my all-time best, but that dates from a while ago--I was actually at my present max. It felt brutal--not painful or hard at all, but emotionally vicious. It was actually thrilling and cathartic. I would have done more reps, but my dog distracted me. He was lying on a pile of packing mats, like he usually does, and he knows better than to step on my square when I'm lifting stuff, but perhaps he sensed my sudden burst of temper and was coming over to check it out. Fortunately, he was not, and I completed my set. I wound up 10 pounds heavier than the first failed clean. Success!
I'm not so sure we'll salvage today's long run after all...we both seem to have a cold, or allergies.
EDIT: aw, I forgot to mention that 50 minutes of that jog was a fartlek session. I pushed on the parts of trails that I like, and slacked off on the annoying stretches. This was considerably slower than pushing through the entire loop, but I don't think my breathing dropped much at all during it. And it was more fun because I went faster on the nice bits.
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