The treadmill reunion

Cancel the Amber alert, call off the dogs, send the search parties home…I have been located.  I wasn’t found pounding the pavement on any local roads or stomping through the trails.  I was hiding out *gasp* on a treadmill.  That same dreaded belt I cursed all winter long as snow banks reached heights exceeding the arc of my swinging ponytail.  I joined a gym specifically to use the treadmill in lousy weather, and although I was thankful to have it, I quickly burnt out over the winter.  I haven’t even been to my gym since February and honestly didn’t expect to be back there until this winter. 

                My mileage has decreased significantly over the summer.  I’m partially okay with that, because I expected to back off during the summer and pick it back up in August to prepare for a half marathon in October.  Obviously that plan is on hold at the moment until I meet with the surgeon regarding my hip.  Although the hip is quite cranky, I’ve been trying to at least get moving a couple times a week.  My running log is embarrassing these days.  I managed a whopping 34 miles in June and only 26 so far in July.  I got a couple runs in last week from my house, which is a combination of trails and roads, with some hills.  The hills seem to irritate my hip more than anything, so even those runs have become more of a walk/jog than a “run”.  My other excuse (I have an endless supply of them according to Todd) is that we’ve been stuck in a miserable heat wave this week.  I know my limits, and I know that I will literally boil to death if I run in extreme heat.  While Todd and Jaimee skipped off for their lunch time runs in 90 degree heat, I stayed inside and missed more opportunities for miles.  My hip has continued to throb, a constant reminder that I shouldn’t feel guilty about missing these lunch runs, but I still do.

                Today I decided to switch things up a bit and head to the gym.  I haven’t run in a full week and wanted to put in a few miles without burning to death.  Plus, I thought it would be a nice break for my hip to be able to run without hills, and the added benefit of being able stop at any time if the hip became too sore.  So off to the gym I went, all decked out in my running gear.  I hopped on a treadmill and was immediately disappointed at the lack of entertainment.  Running on the roads is a great chance to sightsee, check out peoples’ gardens, explore new roads, and perhaps spy on neighbors.  Today at the gym there were very few people to spy on, so it was a chore trying to stay interested enough to keep running.  I managed to get through 4.6 miles, and amused myself by watching all the people that came and went as I continued plodding along.  Seems that I can still outrun most people at the gym, even with a torn hip!  (At least this is what I tell myself).  I alternated speeds every quarter mile to keep it interesting, and by the third mile my body was in the “long distance” groove.  It’s funny how for the first couple miles of a run my body continuously wants to stop, and then after I settle into my groove, my body seems to concede that it will be working for a while and stops asking.  I did take a couple of walk breaks, but I have a bit of a limp when walking and it’s really awkward on a treadmill, so for my safety and to avoid stares I tried to keep running most of the time.  I also cursed myself for drinking that 4^th margarita last night, which provided a constant source of heartburn during the run.

                Today’s run, albeit boring, was a success and might just be the alternative that will keep me running for a while (pending surgery at least).  If this ends up being the case, I’m going to have to start inventing some new mind games to hold my attention!

Harvard Pilgrim 10k race report

Today was the 2nd annual Harvard Pilgrim 10k at Gillette Stadium, and I've been looking forward to this race since I ran the first one last year.  About a mile into this run I thought to myself, why the HELL have I been looking forward to this??  True, it's a fun race.  Yes, it's a super flat course.  Yup, very scenic.  Definitely a fun experience to run through the inflatable helmet and cross the finish at the 50 yard line.  So what's not to like?  Just the fact that it takes place on the 4th of July which is bound to be...you know...HOT.  As we New Englanders say, it was a real scorcha!  The sun beat down on us with very little shade, and the result was people dropping like flies all around me.  I can say I was very grateful for already determining I would be running super slow due to my hip, which eliminated any pressure for me to hit a time goal.

The day started off fairly cool and I was hopeful that it would remain that way throughout the morning.  Unfortunately the race started at 9:00am, which I think is a bit late for a mid-summer race.  I wish they would consider starting it early.  I packed up my race bag as well as a cooler full of goodies for after the race, ate my bagel thin with almond butter, downed two preemptive Motrin, and headed to Foxboro.  My son Andrew came with me and was on camera duty.  I asked him to take some scenic shots while I was out running.  Apparently Andrew and I differ on definitions of "scenic".

About 15 minutes before the race started I lined up, and stayed in the 10:00 minute pace area.  Within that 15 minutes of standing in the sun, I already had worked up a good sweat and knew that the race was going to be tough for me.  I never do well in the heat.  We started off and I tried to stick to my slow pace, and kept about a 9:40 pace for much of the first couple miles.  I was running amongst all sizes and shapes, shufflers, limpers, stroller pushers, and speed walkers.  Less than two miles in I got passed by Captain America.  I also got passed by a guy in combat boots and camouflage pants carrying a giant American flag.  Although some of this was a little discouraging, I had two main priorities with this race. 

1. Don't cause further damage to the hip, and require a lift back to the stadium
2. Don't get heat stroke and die, and require a lift back to...wherever dead runners go

I stuck to my plan, grabbed water and walked at every water stop, and even built in a couple extra walks in the shade when I needed to.  I did get a little nervous at one point because I started feeling chilly and had the goosebumps.  I reflected on the last time I ran these streets, back in February during the very frigid Foxboro 10 Miler, and thought of how many layers I was wearing that day.  Today I was thankful to be wearing a nice light airy singlet.  Around mile 5 I caught up with Team Hoyt.  Seeing Dick Hoyt pushing his son Rick in the wheelchair was uplifting and gave me motivation to forge ahead.  How can I possibly complain about being a little hot when he's pushing his grown son in that chair, and he's twice my age.  I continued on until I reached the stadium and then did something unusual.  I slowed down!  It's kind of instinctual for a runner to speed up near the finish line.  "Finish strong!", we always hear.  But running through the tunnel, then the inflatable helmet, and finally out across the field...this was an experience I didn't want to pass too quickly, and I decided to enjoy every moment.

Officially I have said all along that I didn't have a time goal in mind since my goal was just to finish this race, but my unofficial hope was to finish in less than 60 minutes.  My official time was 60:07.  I guess maybe I shouldn't have wandered quite so slowly to the finish! 



Ronnie & I after the race.  (He hasn't discovered technical fabrics yet)

After crossing the finish line I made a beeline to a giant container of water bottles and ice.  I grabbed handfuls of ice and stuffed them down my shirt.  That really did the trick and I was feeling cool in no time!

Bumped into fellow TVFR member Charlene at the finish line...


Once I finally caught back up with Andrew, we snuck him onto the field so he could feel the experience too.

We met up with more of Ronnie's friends, fellow runners from Papa Gino's.  We snapped more pictures before heading out.


Ronnie with his Papa pals

Finally with the race behind us and heart rates back in a normal range, we left the stadium and headed over to Ronnie's house for a cookout.  Lounging around in the pool all afternoon with a couple Corona's was a perfect end to this holiday and a great post-race treat.




Triathlon training

Notice I've said very little about my hip?  Honestly, it wasn't too awful.  I think the strategy of running slow and sticking to flat runs is a good one!  (I know, I sound like such a wuss).

Yes, I will most definitely have this race on my calendar for next year too.  I'm just going to pray for a cloudy morning!


Click here to see the course

The signs of Spring!

Spring is in the air here in New England!  After endless complaints of the cold and snow, today was a picture perfect – and might I add – well deserved Spring day.  (Must be the luck o’ the Irish!)  I have been hiding from my Asics and avoiding looking other runners in the eyes over the last week, and have not run even once since – gasp – a week ago.  I realize I’m taking a huge gamble on this, with a half marathon coming up on Sunday, but with my foot and my stomach getting progressively crankier over the last week I felt I needed to scale back a bit.  Well… scale back I did!  At this time last month, while complaining about the weather, I had accumulated about 60 miles.  Today, I’m up to 30.  I knew it was critical that I got in a decent run today if I had any chance of completing the half on Sunday, and at some point I had to dust off my foot and see how it held up.  With temperatures in the 50’s, today was the perfect day to give it a shot.

                Todd, Kerri and I were supposed to run together at lunch but at the last minute Todd bailed (for some “work related” conference call – this is the first evidence of Todd actually “working” since I met him in December).  Luckily Old Reliable was still up for a run, so Kerri and I headed out on our favorite Ice Cream stand route.   Technically Spring doesn’t begin until Sunday, but today for us was the official start to Spring.  Here’s why:

·         Today marked the first day we traded in our full length running tights for running Capri’s.  A small change to some, but to me having my ankles exposed felt like I was running around half naked.  (Not to mention my pasty ankles would no doubt blind some drivers).

·         The roads were so crowded with runners and walkers it was akin to running an organized race.  Part of me expected to see an aid station on the way back.

·         The driving range was open!  The driving range is adjacent to the ice cream stand, and from a good distance we could hear the unmistakable strike of the golf ball and the subsequent crackle as the ball ricocheted between trees after taking a sharp slice off the tee. 

·         It’s still unclear if the actual ice cream stand was open but we once again confirmed our future Summer plans to someday stop in for a cone during our run.  

As we headed back to the building, we were honked and waved at by a guy on a motorcycle, who I’m pretty sure was mesmerized by our exposed ankles.  Seems even the motorcyclists have a touch of the Spring Fever. 

                For all the preparation that had gone into training for Hyannis, I have done surprisingly little for New Bedford.  There have been no dress rehearsals, and no time spent fretting over directions, pre-race foods, or energy gels.  At this point there’s nothing I can do to improve my fitness so hopefully the base I had developed for Hyannis will be enough to get me through this race.  And if that’s not enough, maybe the Luck O’ the Irish will carry me through!  J

(In the interest of full disclosure… I’m only a wee bit o’ Irish.  But it’s Saint Patrick’s Day, so why not jump on the bandwagon.  Plus, it’s way cooler than say… Bastille Day.)

Countdown to Hyannis

When you order a beer called an “Arrogant Bastard” on a Wednesday night, it should be obvious that there’s going to be some backlash.  It should make you wonder what this beer did to earn such a distinct name.  I unfortunately wasn’t astute enough to make this connection Wednesday night, which made yesterday a physical challenge on many levels. 

                The last couple days have been great for running.  Temperatures in the upper 30’s and widespread sunshine have melted down some of the snow banks, and we took advantage of this and ran on the streets at lunch.  Our last seven runs have taken place in the parking lot around the building, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of running around in circles again.  (I know it’s been seven consecutive runs, thanks to a quick glance of my running log).  We did the best we could with it, using scandalous stories and controversial topics to make the time pass quickly.  We’ve run out of topics to cover and all of us have been getting antsy to hit the road again.  I had checked out some of the side roads on the way in the office and they looked safe enough, so at lunch on Wednesday we headed out.  This was an all-girls run.  Todd was sidelined with a slight knee injury after his half marathon on Sunday.  Kerri, Jaimee and I had a very nice 4.5 mile run and even met up with some guys that are also running Hyannis this weekend.  Their first question was asking if we were marathon training.  For some reason I thought this was fantastic, that two marathon runners thought we looked like marathon runners.  When people drive by, do they look at us and say, “Now there’s a group of real runners.  Did you see that girl’s magic running shoes?  And her seen-from-space windbreaker?  Only a real runner would wear such advanced running attire!”  The two guys also clued us in about a 5 mile trail down the road that makes a nice summer run.  We’ll be checking that out in a few months, for sure!  Overall it was a great run, and we spent most of the time listening to Jaimee’s stories about Sunday’s half marathon and some of the “mistakes” she made along the way.  I’m so glad I did my two dress rehearsals!  The best part about the run was being out on the road again.  For people that never run on the roads, they really don’t know what they are missing.  I’m guessing it’s the equivalent of seeing in shades of gray your whole life, not knowing that there’s a whole world of color all around you. 

                Yesterday was my last run before Hyannis and I planned another 4.5 miles.  It was critical that I got this run in for two reasons:  1.Today it is going to be pouring rain and flooding, changing over to snow, and 2.My super-fancy new sports bra finally came in the mail, and I simply MUST try this out!  This has been the one piece of equipment that has failed the dress rehearsals, and I’ve been watching FedEx like a hawk for this precious cargo to make its way across the country (FedEx ground from Oregon! What was I thinking??)  Of course, I hadn’t anticipated the after effects of the Arrogant Bastards that had entertained me so well the night before.  My stomach was in turmoil and my head pounded heavier with every step I took.  Note to self: No more Arrogant Bastards.  Ok, maybe just one.

                Todd was back running with us yesterday, and when I proudly announced I was using this run to test out the new sports bra, Kerri stuffed her iPod back in her bag.  She knew the running conversation would be more entertaining than any music.   Yes, we spent most of the run discussing undergarments and Vaseline, and I was compelled to give regular status updates on the performance of the new sports bra.  The conversation was good and it distracted me from my pounding head. 

With my final 4.5 miles in the books and the final piece of equipment passing the test, it’s now a waiting game for Hyannis.  I won’t be running at all today or tomorrow.  Just like last week’s 10 miler, I’m giving myself two full days of rest before the race.  Also during this time, I have to be extra cautious of food and beverages.  That means no Arrogant Bastards.  No food I’ve never eaten before.  No food that may not agree with me.  (Last night I had to politely decline a bowl of Jambalaya.  Others see it as a nice hot bowl of food.  I see it has a bowl of stomach acid, with a skull and crossbones on top).  Tomorrow the rules will get stricter: No beer, no vegetables, no popcorn.  So, that pretty much puts me on lockdown for the next two days, all in preparation for Hyannis. 

So here I sit, a monsoon outside with driving rain and flooding.  The Cape and Islands are getting 60-70 MPH winds later this afternoon.  Tomorrow will have gusty wind.  Sunday, the forecast is 2-4 inches of snow (“in spots”) until noon.  Really, after this winter, what did you think the forecast would be?  You know what I say… BRING IT!  I would love to tell people how I ran a marathon in the snow, in a winter where snow was measured only in feet instead of inches.  And I’ll order up another Arrogant Bastard, and we will laugh. 

“Old Fashioned Ten Miler” – Race Report

The theme of this entire winter has been about lousy running conditions, unusually high snowfall totals, and unbearably cold temperatures.  So, it should come as no surprise that the 50 degree temperatures from two days ago were replaced today by bitter cold and unrelenting wind.  As I packed this morning for the Foxboro Old Fashioned Ten Miler, the temperature was 14 degrees and trees were still blowing sideways.  What had seemed like a good idea, a nice easy ten miler a week before the half marathon, was turning into a much bigger challenge than I had bargained for.  I started having doubts about my level of preparation for this race as well as next weekend’s half marathon.  I had taken two days off of running, and every run during the past week has been only 3.25 miles.  My longest was a slow 12 miles from last Sunday.  The weather wasn’t helping, of course, and if I hadn’t pre-entered for this race, I’m certain I would have checked the temperature on my phone, laughed, and rolled over with the covers over my head.  However, I had invested money in this race (not to mention it’s on my very official Blog race calendar!) so I couldn’t possibly skip it. 

                I knew I was in trouble when I went to warm my car up and my legs were so cold I had to go put a second pair of pants on over my running pants.  The wind tossed my hair in every direction, and my toes were instantly numb.  I packed a couple extra layers in my bag so I could make some last minute wardrobe changes if needed.  On the way to the race, my mother wondered if maybe the bitter cold would deter people from showing up.  No, I figured.  Anyone who paid would be here.  Runners are a weird bunch.  They’ll suffer through this and then boast about how they ran 10 miles in the bitter cold.  Heck, I know I will.  When I arrived at the race location, sure enough, the place was mobbed with runners sprinting in every direction.  Some had bare legs; most had hats, gloves, and even a few face masks.  I managed somehow to navigate through the registration tables despite the extremely tight crowds, then headed back to the car to change.  I stayed in the car as long as I could for warmth, but eventually headed out to make a pit stop at the porta-toilet and then skip off to the starting line.  At about 10 minutes before the race started I jumped in the toilet line and started to get nervous I wouldn’t get out in time.  Fortunately the line went quickly and with 5 minutes to spare I headed towards the starting line.  I walked, and walked, and walked, following other runners.  Most of the runners started running.  Where the heck is this starting line??  I overheard a guy at the toilet line saying the starting line was a half mile up the road, but geesh, I thought he was exaggerating.  Finally I realized I wasn’t going to make the starting line if I walked the whole way, so I handed my coat to my mother and took off at a run to the starting line.  It’s a good thing I did, because the guy in the toilet line wasn’t exaggerating.  It was a full half mile to the start of the race.  Once I made it to the starting line I realized I had a problem.  The runners were facing me, and were thick from one side of the road to the other.  The only way to get around the giant pack of runners at the front was to climb onto the snow bank along the side of the road, and precariously make my way towards the back.  With just enough time to retie my shoes, the gun went off. 

                Whenever the gun goes off, people immediately try to jockey for position and there’s always a contest to see how many people you can pass in the first quarter mile.  Against my primal instinct, I chose to wait it out.  I knew from the beginning that I would be running a very slow race today.  I was not looking to set any records, I just wanted a nice easy 10 mile race to give me one last long run before Hyannis.  Although I wanted so badly to start darting around people and getting up to speed quickly, I knew it would waste too much energy and was unnecessary.  Instead, I forced myself to exercise patience and have faith that the crowd would eventually thin out and I’d have plenty of breathing room.

                After two miles my toes thawed out and went from numb to burning.  Aside from that, the weather actually didn’t bother me, except at miles 6 and 9 where the wind really picked up and was very difficult to run through.  The sun was strong and made the temperature a little more bearable.  A few miles into the race I was very happy.  Like, VERY happy.  I was just bopping along the road thinking to myself, this is exactly where I want to be right now.  There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.  The roads were beautiful and scenic, and I took full advantage of the rare opportunity to run straight down the middle of them.  A couple observations made:

·         In the first mile of the race there was a lot of talking among friends, which is fine because I wasn’t wearing an iPod so it was a good chance to eavesdrop.  However, when one girl received a phone call on her cell and then answered it and had a full conversation, that was annoying.  I secretly hoped she’d fall into an open manhole. 

·         All of the volunteers that stood out there for hours repeating mile splits and saying “stay left!” deserve the biggest round of applause, and I thanked them whenever I could.

·         At some intersections were long lines of cars waiting to get through.  Some drivers were clearly aggravated, but others turned down their windows (in 20 degrees!) and blasted music for us.   That was a pretty awesome thing to do.

·         Passed a number of runners wearing Boston Marathon jackets.  One from 2010.  Zing!

The rolling hills were enjoyable.  There was one sizable, gradual hill between miles 6 and 8 that seemed to slow everyone down.  At the 8 mile marker, a volunteer exclaimed that there were no more hills for the rest of the race.  Sure enough, the road instantly evened out and it was smooth sailing to the finish.  I picked up the pace and finished strong.  Through the entire race I felt great.  I was very cold in a couple spots, and I got a bad side stitch at mile 6, but as far as muscles, joints, previous injuries, everything felt great.  Like, oddly great.  Maybe I was just so completely numb that I couldn’t feel anything, or maybe it was the two full days of rest I took before today.  Whatever it was, this was exactly the confidence boost I needed for Hyannis, and I am so incredibly glad I ran this race.  I am also so incredibly grateful to the liquor store down the street that sells Japanese wine, since a glass of hot sake was the perfect antidote to my blue-ish lips.  Cheers! J

Alternatives

Yesterday I was in surprisingly good spirits, considering the environment.  Maybe it was because the sun was shining and it was a mild 32 degrees, or maybe it was because it was Friday, or maybe it was because I knew that as soon as my work day was over I was heading to the gym for a mega-dose of physical punishment.  I’m talking a trifecta here: 1. Safari class (think Zumba, with an African flavor), 2. Yoga class, 3. Logging every mile I can muster on the treadmill.  The reality is it’s crunch time.  Hyannis is 22 days away and I have lots of catching up to do.  I was genuinely looking forward to hitting the gym after work, and suddenly the three feet of snow outside didn’t seem quite so unbearable.

I worked at home yesterday and since I couldn’t run, I decided go snowshoeing in the trails behind the house.  The trails were especially tricky to navigate due to the deep snow and recent ice storm that left a thick coating of glaze to crush through.  A quarter of a mile in and my glutes were on fire.  Great!  Awesome cross training!  What a great idea this was!  While snowshoeing I got to thinking about my other main activities, running and mountain biking.  A lot of people have asked me why I don’t move up a notch and do triathlons.  Two reasons: 1. I hate swimming.  The only body of water I’ll go into is a Jacuzzi.  2. I do not ride on roads.  Cars scare me, wild animals do not.  It’s unfortunate that triathlons require these specific sports.  If we could change it up a bit, I would love to try one.  For example, if instead of road biking it was changed to mountain biking.  And if instead of swimming it was kayaking.  That I would gladly sign up for.  Then I got to thinking, you know, I might be onto something here.  Who says triathlons can only be swim-bike-run?  Why not kayak-mountain bike-run?  Or, speed skate-snowshoe-run?  I haven’t worked out all the details and I’m sure someone has already beaten me to this, but I think this is an adventure worth pursuing.  After all, different physical pursuits and challenges are always popping up.  Tough Mudder and Ragnar relays are examples of extreme alternatives to just-your-average-race.  I know a guy that just this weekend flew from Kansas City to North Carolina to compete in the Krispy Kreme Challenge: a 2 mile run to a Krispy Kreme doughnut shop, an “obstacle” to consume 12 honey glazed doughnuts, and a 2 mile run back.  Then I wondered philosophically, would that be considered a dualthlon (running-eating-running), or a triathlon (running-eating-absence of vomiting)? 

Shortly after returning from my exhausting lunch time adventure, I received a message from my sister telling me the gym was closed until further notice due to a failing roof, under threat of collapse from the weight of the snow.  After exclaiming a smorgasbord of profanities, I realized she must be joking.  She probably just read my blog, saw how desperate I’ve been for miles, and like a typical big sister was just looking to get me riled up.  I tried to play it cool when responding, but eventually I realized this was no joke.  The gym was closed.  Those rotten treadmills I’ve learned to love and love to hate were locked up and getting dripped on by a leaking roof.  As if Mother Nature hadn’t messed with me enough already, she dealt me one last blow.  I was furious, and felt completely out of control.  Having tried everything to get in a decent run, everything I tried failed.  I hated snow even more right at that moment, and decided to take my frustrations out on my own roof.  I climbed onto the roof and shoveled until it was too dark to see.  It was my own little private revenge on Mother Nature.

                Today I vowed not to be a victim to the snow.  I would do whatever was necessary to get a run in and log some miles.  I sent a message to Ron, asking if I could join him at his gym.  He agreed, but it wouldn’t be for a while.  In the meantime I took the dog for a walk out the street and used it as an opportunity to check out the road conditions.  If absolutely necessary, could I run up and down the road repeatedly to accumulate miles?  After a short walk it was clear that the road was still not in good enough condition to run.  It still had a fair amount of snow on the road and was quite slippery.  While I continued to wait for Ronnie to call me back, I killed some time going snowshoeing again.  Shortly after I strapped on the snowshoes it started raining.  Oh, Mother Nature.  Bite me.  I made my way down the trails, quickly warming up from the strenuous exercise, and considered the absurdity of my current situation.  Here I am, on a 30 degree winter day, snowshoeing in the freezing rain while hoping and praying for my phone to ring so I can hurry down to Rhode Island for a free trip on a treadmill.

                As I continued my adventure, feeling sorry for myself, I remembered a conversation I had last night.  I had met up with some friends at a local bar and spent some time chatting with the bartender, an old friend from high school I hadn’t seen in… oh… 17 years.  While I complained about the snow and how it was screwing me up so much this winter he said, “I love New England, and all the different seasons.  Think about it.  Every story we have revolves around weather.  You remember events based on the season: if there was snow on the ground, if the leaves were changing, if it was the first frost.  Wouldn’t stories be so boring without that frame of reference?”  It didn’t mean much to me at the time (I think I was still shaking snow out of my pants), but out there in the woods today it started to make a lot of sense.  I thought about some of my more memorable moments and quickly realized the weather connection.  Like the time we had a tornado fly through our campground during a group camping trip with the horses.  We refer to that as the “tornado” trip, and I even have the Me-and-my-horse-survived-the-tornado-of-2008 commemorative T-shirt as a reminder.  Then there was the mid-August camping trip where the temperature overnight got below freezing.  No one in camp was prepared for such extreme cold except for one friend who came out of her trailer sporting a fuzzy winter hat with ear flaps.  Everyone was impressed with her foresight to pack winter garments on a mid-August camping trip and now it’s become the standard for all of us.  (Note: the following year we had a heat wave, 100 degree temperatures, in which we had to cut the rides short or eliminate them altogether and stay in the shade).  Other camping trips have involved extreme floods and evacuations, and those stories inevitably get retold time and time again.  I can’t think of a story at the moment that is frequently retold involving average temperatures and forgettable wind chills. 

                While I can’t control every aspect of my training plan, and I certainly can’t control the weather, I can control my reaction to it.  I’m going to continue doing everything I can to prepare for Hyannis but I know I won’t be in top shape.  The race might hurt a little, but one way or another I will finish it.  A short time from now we’ll be looking back on this winter laughing, and I’ll be saying, “That was the year I trained for the Hyannis half marathon on nothing but snowshoes!”, and we will laugh harder.  I certainly won’t get a PR at Hyannis, but this winter has been a collective PR for me.  It’s been the winter I’ve logged more miles on snowshoes than Asics, and overcome some ridiculous obstacles in pursuit of fitness.  In the triathlon of Snowshoe-Snow Shovel-Nose Blow, I win. J

(bleep)’ing snow!!

Sounding like a broken record, I once again had to run on the treadmill at the gym tonight.  After yet another snow storm, followed by a crystallizing ice storm, the roads are barely driveable let alone run-able.  I’m really trying to stay positive about this, but I’ll admit: the snow-pocalypse is wearing on my very last nerves.  And now to add insult to injury, I have to add Yaktrax to my list of necessary equipment required to walk out the front door.  Not to mention that yet another storm is due to arrive Saturday night, which will more than likely cause a banquet I’m attending to be postponed.  Just as well, as I’m sure the conversation will revolve around the weather, the snow, the cold, etc.  I’d rather suffer through awkward silences at this point than resort to the old weather standby.  My life and my schedule are now completely revolving around snow, and I’m resenting it deeply.

My friend Chris had talked me into signing up for a 10k this weekend in South Boston.  Not thrilled about driving to Boston for a 6 mile race, I was finally swayed by two compelling attractions:  1. Each runner receives hot Whole Foods soup, and two free Harpoon beers.  (It’s well documented, I will do nearly anything, up to and including driving long distances and running my ass off, to obtain free alcohol.  Even if it requires paying a $30 entry fee).  2. It would be a chance for me to finally get to run outside, on a measured course, in a very scenic area, with cops holding off traffic and allowing me to run in the road without fear of being bowled over by Masshole drivers.  Once I weighed the options I knew signing up was the right choice. 

I’ve been eyeing the weather carefully and although another storm is scheduled for Saturday, Sunday is shaping up to be a beautiful 40 degrees and sunny.  As the week has progressed, I’ve started really looking forward to this race and recruited a couple more runners from work.  It was shaping up to be a great winter race.  After another lousy day of work (which comes after a lousy day of work, which came after another lousy day of work, etc., etc.,) I was trying to psych myself up into going to the gym and running a few miles.  On my way to the gym I received an email.  The email was from this weekend’s race organizer, announcing that the race for this weekend has been postponed until the following weekend.  Furthermore, the police will not allow the roads to be closed for the run, so we are not allowed to run in the roads.  And since sidewalks have been replaced with 10 foot snow banks, this means the official “race” has been cancelled, and only the post-race party will take place.  I guess that’s all well and good if you live in Boston and just want to go party for an afternoon.  For me, I signed up for the miles.  This was a crushing blow, and I took it as a personal insult by Mother Nature, screwing me once again with the weather. 

I lost whatever enthusiasm I had left for the gym and came close to bagging it altogether.  But, knowing that I had even less miles to look forward to this weekend, the treadmill wasn’t a nice-to-have; it was a requirement.  However, if I was going to survive the gym, it meant adhering to a strict set of rules:

·         Absolutely no watching the news while running.  The news has turned into all-snow-all-the-time, and I can’t bear to hear one more cliché snow story; one more breaking news story involving pot holes, roof collapses, power outages, stranded animals, drainage problems, or any other snow-related calamity.

·         No thinking about snow.  The word snow cannot enter my brain.  At.  All. 

·         No peeking at other TV’s on other treadmills.

·         This run must be mentally uplifting.  Therefore, I created my mentally uplifting plan:

o   Mile 1: Observation.  I will use the first mile as a warm up, and an opportunity to observe (read: make fun of) other gym patrons

o   Mile 2: Visualize the most positive warm-weather activity I can think of

o   Mile 3: Observation, part two

o   Mile 4: Hard core run, followed by cool down

The gym was filled to capacity today.  When I selected a treadmill I was forced to squeeze in between two walkers.  Out of respect to them, I tightly knotted up my ponytail to prevent splattering my neighbors with sweat.  I trotted along on the treadmill and once settled into a groove, I started my mile 1 observations.  I noticed that the treadmills were occupied by a large variety of people, and that there would be a lot more open treadmills if the following rules were enacted and enforced:

·         No excessive stretching on the treadmill.  Stretch on a mat for Pete’s sake, and save the treadmill for those who wish to engage in a forward motion movement

·         No idle chatter on the treadmill.  And by that I mean, standing perfectly still kibitzing with neighbors on adjacent treadmill.

·         Forward motion must be at least 2 MPH (*exception: Elderly blind men).  If you are going to walk less than 2 MPH with your arms straight at your sides, then just go walk in circles in the locker room.  Or in the snowy parking lot.  Or from your couch to your refrigerator. 

Unfortunately, I have little faith that I could ever get the gym to adopt such strict policies (heck, I can’t even get them to enforce wiping down the treadmills), so we’ll all be forced to fight for treadmills until the New Year’s honeymoon wears off and I’m back to being alone in the row.  I’m betting it won’t take long. 

Mile two, for my positive warm weather activity, I chose to start planning my vegetable garden.  Last summer was my first time in complete control of the garden, and it was a big success.  I thought about what went well and what I could change.  By mile three, I had worked out the following plan:

·         Must remember to fertilize.  Dad always insisted on chicken manure.  I will replace that with something bagged, tidier, with less offensive odor.

·         Lettuce, winter squash, and beans were a big success.  Will plant lots this year.

·         Planted too much basil and radishes last year.  No one actually eats radishes, and one can only have so much pesto.

·         The cucumbers got overshadowed by giant squash leaves.  Must plant more spaciously.

·         Dad never wanted to plant peas, because he thought they never grew well.  (In reality, they grew just fine.  They just never made it to the house because I ate them all straight out of the garden.  And I blamed it on rabbits).  As the inherited keeper of the garden, I’m making the executive decision to plant snow peas this year.  OMG did I just think “snow”?  Scratch that.  Sugar snap peas.  Not snow peas.  Never snow peas.

Mile three prompted more fun observations.  I spotted a trainer working with two people on treadmills.  I know he was a trainer because he was wearing an official gym shirt, which said “TRAINER” on the back.  I also noticed he was sporting a rather large cast all the way up his right arm.  No doubt from a horrific kettlebell accident, I concluded.  Here is an observation I’ve never made before.  Apparently it was couples night at the gym.  Nearly everyone I saw heading to the treadmills came in pairs.  What’s worse, they all insisted on working out side-by-side.  They scoured up and down the rows of treadmills in search of adjacent equipment.  I started to feel out of place as the single one, which is pretty much how I feel all the time, and these cutsie little couples started to irritate me.  I was further irritated when one of these couples wasn’t able to get adjoining treadmills and they ended up sandwiching around me, and proceeded talking over me.  Screw you two, and screw my plan.  I’m starting my hard core running now before I “accidentally” spit on you.  I cranked up my run and did the last two miles at an 8:00 pace, while sweating and breathing heavily and being generally disruptive and obnoxious.  On several occasions I noticed him looking over at me.  I’m pretty sure he was in awe of my sustained high treadmill speed.  Or, maybe he was just checking out my Asics.  (Guys, I said ASICS.  He was checking out my ASICS). 

I ended my run with a quarter mile cool down while checking out the weightlifters.  It’s always fun to watch these guys, who spend an awful lot of time flexing in front of the mirrors while managing to only very rarely lift an actual dumbbell.  Overall it was a decent workout, and with no end in sight of that four letter word, I need to learn to love that dreaded belt and conjure up more new and exciting mind games.  Or, move to a snow-free environment.  Right now, it’s a toss-up.  Stay tuned!

To run or not to run: there is no question

The ass-beating I received on Monday night’s kettlebell class has left my quads screaming for days.  On Tuesday and Wednesday not only could I not run, I could barely walk and could only descend stairs backwards.  By Thursday the pain had subsided slightly, just enough to walk and maybe run.  The decision on whether or not to hit the gym was a tough one.  I’ve been torn between my obligation to collect miles and the growing list of reasons not to.

Yesterday morning we woke up to another foot or so of snow.  The snow topped off the 2-3 feet we already had on the ground and was just more salt in the snowy wound.  The snow has become such a burden, it’s now affecting me both physically and mentally.  Shoveling before work was a miserable start to the day.  I tried to hoist the shovels full of snow up to the top of the snow banks, which were now well over my head. 

While working at home, I had to balance a crummy day of work with snow removal.  A certain someone got the plow truck stuck in a snow bank and we spent a good hour trying to shovel it out.  When that didn’t work, that certain plow driver took my car to work.  That left me locked at home with work, a stuck plow truck, a ton of snow all over the place, and a serious case of the grouchies.  Eventually a wrecker winched out the truck, at which time I got the envious job of plowing the yard and digging out every nook and cranny around the house and barn.  Even the horses seemed to be pleading with me to get them out of the knee deep snow.  We are all on the edge.  When I finally came in the house from 2.5 hours of shoveling, my back was burning and I could barely stand up straight. 

I had promised myself that no matter what, I was going to make it to the gym tonight.  Unfortunately I didn’t consider all the possible interferences (the lousy long work day, the 2.5 hours of shoveling, the plowing, the not having a car until 7pm).  Not to mention the fact that my legs were still burning from kettlebell.  I had tons of reasons not to run, but one reason to run: I had to.  It was that simple.  I didn’t want to go through all the hoops of dressing and packing and driving all the way there, but for whatever reason, I just simply had to do it.  I arrived at the nearly empty gym at 8:30pm, and ran 3 miles while watching Wipeout.  What a great show to watch when you’ve had a bad day.  There’s something so satisfying in watching people mangle themselves trying to maneuver through obstacles and inevitably crashing into a horrific pile of mud.  While it was only 3 miles, considering the day I had, I think it was a big win.  I had every reason not to run and I ran anyways.  Afterwards, I felt so renewed.  It reset my mind frame and for that brief moment in time, I wasn’t the snow bound, snow shoveling, snow plowing snowman living in the land of snow hell. 

Today I worked in the office (after yesterday’s snow debacle, I needed some serious structure and focus on the job).  I packed my gym bag with three different outfits: winter running clothes, treadmill running clothes, and yoga clothes.  If everything went according to plan, I would be running on my lunch break, and then hitting a yoga class after work.  If for some reason I couldn’t get to yoga on time, and I couldn’t run on my lunch break, then the backup plan would be to run on the treadmill again.  Work proved to be a bigger disaster than yesterday, and again I had a hundred reasons not to run on my lunch break.  But today I had something else: peer pressure.  My lunchtime buddies were running and insisted I come along.  I again was torn between the zillions of issues I had at work and running.  As much as I wanted to run, it made me feel guilty about the amount of time I would be away from my desk.  My buddies insisted that my day would be better if I ran, I wouldn’t regret it, and I’d come back refreshed and twice as productive.  After some mild cajoling, I caved.

Our lunchtime run was lots of fun today.  After enduring ridiculous amounts of snow and unbearably cold temperatures, it was great to be outside in the sunshine and warmer temps (30!).  The roads were still too narrow to run on, so we could only run the one mile loop in the parking lot around the building.  Most of the parking lot was well plowed and treated, except for the quarter mile section that still had a good 4 inches of snow, on top of ice.  We had to very carefully maneuver our way through the tire tracks and snow and ice, which only added to the adventure.  Todd wears the 5-toe Vibrams, so his footprints through the snow resembled bear claws.  (Or in Todd's case, maybe extra large puppy tracks?)  I just got the biggest kick out of this.  It was so enjoyable to run outside, in the sun, with friends.  I’ve been spending so much time running solo on the treadmill lately.  Running with these guys reminds me how much I’ve really missed this camaraderie and vitamin D.  We chattered about work, upcoming race calendars, sordid gossip, and discussed who we felt were the best looking celebrities.  Jaimee and I both agreed on Bradley Cooper.  I forget what Todd said, because I was distracted with images of Bradley Cooper.  Both of them expressed concerns about how their spouses were going to react to their upcoming races, as if they were telling them they were going to spend the weekend at Foxwoods with their college frat brothers.  I’m glad I don’t have those same limitations.  The only one I have to work my running schedule around is Rocco, which is why I don’t run a lot of Sunday races in the Spring-to- Fall timeframe.  Rocco doesn’t give a hoot at how many races I run otherwise, because he’s tucked in his stall and enjoying his winter hiatus from riding. 

My legs were still sore from kettlebell, and if I were running alone I probably would have stopped after the first or second lap.  But with my friends encouraging me, I made four laps around the building.  A four mile run at lunch was exactly what I needed.  Sure, when I got back to my desk I had a zillion more things to do and a zillion people looking for me.  But it all seemed a little easier to tolerate.  Which is great, because my day went two hours long, my commute was two hours home, and the yoga pants remained in the bag.  I guess sometimes I just have to take what I can get. 

Running amnesia

The last two weeks in Massachusetts have been perfect winter weather, if you are an avid sledder, snowboarder, plow driver, or own a ski lodge.  For those of us that run, our training plans have gotten thrown out the window.  My athletic gear over the last couple of weeks has gone from sneakers and tech shirts to snow shovels and ice cleats.  Twice I even packed my gym bag with hopes of a midday lunch run, only to see the parking lots covered with snow, the sidewalks un-shoveled, and the roads narrower than Giselle on an Atkins diet.  Times like this are the reason I have a gym membership so that I can at least continue running on the treadmill in the event of lousy road conditions.  Unfortunately over the last couple of weeks between major snow storms and a few evening appointments, even my backup plan got tossed out the window.  I’ve been so ashamed by my lack of running that I haven’t even been able to face looking at my running log.  Kind of like when I spend way too much money irresponsibly, then I can’t bear to look at my bank statement.  My total miles for December were nearly 70.  My total miles for January so far are just under 30, and most of those were all logged in the first week.

That brings us to tonight.  A Friday night, the day of another snow storm that dropped another 8” on us.  Nine days have passed since my last run, and this big gap in my training schedule was starting to make me very nervous.  My half marathon is five weeks away, and I should be logging 25-30 miles a week right now.  Instead, I’m averaging 0 miles per week over the last two weeks.  The snow had stopped in the afternoon, the plows had a chance to clean up the roads, and I was taking advantage of it.  Time to lace up and hit the belt. 

I’m a creature of habit.  I like my routines, which is why I run almost every day.  If I don’t run on my lunch break, I have anxiety because I don’t know what else to do.  If I don’t run outside on a Saturday and Sunday morning, my weekend routine is thrown off.  Now, after a nine day vacation from running, the opposite is true.  It felt like my first time going to the gym.  Dressing and packing for the gym were painfully slow events, and I nearly talked myself out of going altogether.  This is after only nine days.  I can’t imagine how people feel that are starting their first gym membership, where every action is foreign. 

I navigated the snowy streets to the gym and when entering the parking lot, I became aware of my first mistake.  I didn’t consider how sloppy the parking lot would be.  Foolishly I had worn my running sneakers, which meant carefully dodging the deepest bands of snow all the way across the parking lot.  Despite my careful plodding, by the time I reached the entrance to the gym, my feet were wet and very cold.  Add this to my list of running gear: snow boots.

The gym was very quiet because, a. it was a Friday night, and b. it was a snow storm.  Nearly the entire cardio end of the gym was empty except for a couple people on ellipticals.  Once again I had the whole row of treadmills to myself.  For convenience, I chose the one closest to the end.  I started up the treadmill at a walk and then… you know the annoying sound wet sneakers make when they walk across a tile floor?  Squeak, squeak.  Well, my sopping wet sneakers sounded like a squeaky metronome as I walked, and quickly the whole treadmill belt was shining with wet footprints.  The eerily quiet gym was suddenly disrupted by the high pitched repeated squeaks, and I’m guessing the people on the ellipticals were none too thrilled.  After a minute walking I cranked up the speed on the treadmill and the squeaks sped up to match the pace.  I quickly turned up the volume on the TV just to drown out the sound of my own squeaky footfalls.  I’m guessing everyone else did the same.  On the news, they were reporting how one area town hired a “snow cop” to monitor snow removal and diffuse tempers between plow drivers and residents.  You know the end of the world is near when we have snow cops patrolling the roads.  I hope the gym doesn’t follow suit or I might get bagged by the squeak police.

The good part about not running for nine days was that it gave my foot a chance to rest.  I was curious to see how it would hold up today.  For the first tenth of a mile, there was no pain.  Then, like an old familiar bill collector, the pain returned.  Every step of my run felt off for the first mile.  After a mile I walked to grab water and assess the pain.  It went away when I walked, and returned only slightly when I started running again.  After the second mile, the pain was completely gone.  Still, nothing felt right about my stride.  I felt like I was learning to run again.  Could it be that after only nine days, my body has a sudden case of running amnesia?  After the third mile it occurred to me that perhaps I was running at the wrong speed.  I cranked up the treadmill faster, and suddenly everything fell into place.  I’m finding that the slower pace is actually hurting my joints more, but when the pace speeds up a bit, my legs flow more smoothly. 

I’m happy to report that after my four mile run I was not in major foot pain, my legs were not tired or sore, my breathing was not labored.  My body had not, in fact, forgotten how to run.  Instead it appeared to be all systems go.  I’ll be testing this out again on the treadmill both Saturday and Sunday, hoping to collect some make-up miles.  At this point I’m becoming desperate for miles, and I will log them wherever and however I can.  You never know when the next snowstorm is going to thwart your best-laid training plan.  I heard another storm is on the docket for Tuesday, as much as 2 feet predicted to fall.  At the rate I’m going, my entire training plan might be conducted on a treadmill.  Or snowshoes.

My blog, my rules!

It’s no secret that I’m not a fan of winter or winter sports.  All of my favorite activities are warm weather related (or at least snow-excluded): Running, horseback riding, mountain biking, golfing, sunbathing… You may ask why I choose to live in New England and suffer through every winter of my life here.  Well, as much as I don’t like snow, I like earthquakes, landslides, tornadoes, rattlesnakes, crocodiles, gumbo, coal mines, and ice fishing even less.  A few years ago, I decided that if I was going to mentally survive winter, I would have to embrace it somehow and find something I truly enjoyed doing.  Skiing and snowboarding were obvious choices, but those just aren’t the sports for me.  I have no desire to, a. ascend a mountain on a precarious ski lift, or b. careen down said mountain on a piece of timber.  Ice hockey became our pastime, and my homemade ice rink provided endless hours of fun (pain), exercise (exhaustion), and excitement (bruises and groin pulls).  But, kids grow up, ice rinks get sold, and soon I was looking for a new winter weather sport.

                Snowshoeing is something I dabbled in off and on for years, but never really put a lot of effort into it.  Last year, a particularly snowy winter, I spent hours out in the woods alone trudging through snow, leaving giant-sized footprints in my wake.  Once I fell through some ice and was stuck in about 12 inches of frozen mud with no idea how I was going to lift my legs out.  Surprisingly, that has been my only real mishap thus far.

                When we received word that a blizzard was headed towards us, I reacted with mixed emotions.  On one hand, I was disappointed that it might interfere with my running.  On the other, I looked forward to dusting off the snowshoes.   Coincidentally, for Christmas two days earlier my mother had given me some new snowshoeing poles and a Camelbak backpack, and I was just itching to use the new gear.  The day the blizzard was going to hit, I hopped out of bed early to hit the food store and run a few errands before the snow started.  My goal was to finish my errands within a couple hours, and still have time for my 6 mile run.  Unfortunately, the storm came in earlier than predicted and there was a thick film of snow on the roads as I headed home.  As much as I like running and really wanted that one last run on the bare roads, I wasn’t going to risk a car sliding into me.  Sadly, despite my best planning, the run wasn’t going to happen.  I was further irritated when, as the snow fell heavily, a runner came trotting down the street and into the woods behind me.  I know it sounds irrational, but I was actually jealous of that fool for running during the blizzard.

                The blizzard hit mid-morning on Sunday, lasting all day and night, and by Monday the snowfall started to taper off.  The wind lingered though, a constant reminder of the blizzard’s power, and created high snow drifts in seemingly random locations.  By midday I was punchy on a lousy night’s sleep, along with way too much shoveling and plowing, and needed to relieve my cabin fever.  Times like this I would normally slip on the sneakers (and Garmin, iPod, fuel belt, High-Vis jacket, energy gel, leave a detailed note as to my anticipated route and return time) and hit the road for an impromptu run.  But… even I’m not crazy enough to run in a blizzard.  Heck no.  Not me.  I’d rather go snowshoeing during the blizzard, by myself, in the woods, and not tell anyone where I was headed.  Yes, much safer.

                I got myself all geared up in the Camelbak, poles, snow shoes, and grabbed my camera.  Figured this might be an adventure worth digitizing.  I realized quickly that despite all the fancy gear, it might not have been the best idea to head out solo during this crazy windstorm.  Trees swayed severely overhead, and the 40 mph gusts of wind spit icy snow at my face.  Undeterred I ventured on, determined to work up a sweat and hopefully get some good scenery shots on the Kodak.  Stopping to take pictures turned into quite a challenge: Stop, unhook ski poles, remove gloves, unzip pocket, find camera, (blow nose), take picture, repeat everything in reverse order.  Needless to say, most of the pictures were taken in the first couple miles of the adventure.  At one point, as I started to make my way over the notoriously windy dam, gusts of wind were so powerful that I would have been knocked down if I didn’t quickly crouch to the ground, with my back facing the wind.  At that moment I realized how incredibly insignificant humans are up against Mother Nature, and the feeling was invigorating.  It was also a little embarrassing, when I noticed a photographer watching me from a safe distance.  No doubt he was thinking, look at this fool, on top of the dam in a blizzard.  Maybe I should stick around in case this goes south, I could make headlines in the paper tomorrow.

                Reenergized from my brush with death (or at least, my brush with a strong gust of wind), I picked up the pace and charged on, alternating between shallow snow and sudden deep drifts.  As I marched along, I remembered seeing a headline somewhere in a magazine about the new hot winter sport: Snowshoe Running.  I made a mental note to go back and check that out.  That could be my next addiction.  My mother later asked me, “Are you allowed to write about snowshoeing in your blog?”  Excellent question, I thought, since I’ve only ever written, or cared to write, about running.  While I don’t want to make a habit of writing about all sorts of silly adventures, I also reasoned that “Thought per Mile” doesn’t need to exclusively pertain to miles covered in sneakers.  And the bottom line, I finally determined, is that it’s my blog.  That means… my rules! 

*Anyone who knows me well enough knows I am mentally preparing my formal list of rules, forthcoming in a future blog post.  J