How to train for a marathon in 3 weeks.

So, I have a marathon in 27 days.

I haven't ran 20 miles or more since April 2014.

I will probably die in 27 days.

Should I bail on the marathon? Yup. Will I? Nope. The thing is... even though I'm not trained to run a marathon, I am on a decent little streak of running and I am actually REALLY enjoying running right now. Sure, it's slow and it's a grind, but I kinda feel like a runner again. It's glorious.

*

So, I want to just plow through and try to run as much as possible before the race and then just suffer through it as best I can. (It will be a SLOW, LONG marathon). 

Here's the plan.

Weekend 1:

Saturday: 10 miles

Sunday: 16 miles

Weekend 2:

Friday: 10 miles

Saturday: Probably not much (traveling)

Sunday: 10 miles

Monday: 20 miles (I will probably die).

Weekend 3: 

Saturday: 12 miles

Sunday: 20 miles

Race Weekend:

Friday: 8 miles

Saturday: 5 miles

Sunday 26.2 miles.

Is this dumb? YUP. Will I injure myself? Maybe. Do I recommend this for other runners? Hell no. Will this be entertaining for you guys? Probably.

 I've made a huge mistake.

 

 

 * Thanks for the wins, Ol' Ball Coach.

 

Running: The Hobby

I am having a hard time getting back into running. Of course, I expected some of that. Running sucks when it's hard. But just because I expected it, doesn't mean it makes it any easier.

This morning while running, I started thinking about why I run. I've done many, many posts on that topic, so, I'll spare you another. But the two biggest things are that running makes me feel good about myself and I think the physical exercise keeps the black dog at bay. Running is not just my exercise of choice, but for the last few years, it's been a big part of my identity, as well. At it's core, running is my escape from the humdrums of life and my biggest hobby.

Now that I'm in my 30s, I find myself comparing to myself to my parents a lot. Every day, I look more and more like my mom.

 

 My mom's in the pink.

My aunt's in the white.

Yes, they are wearing matching rompers, but in different colors.

Yes, you could do that in the 80s.

I will never be as hot as my mom was, however.

She's had 3 kids in this pic and I've had ZERO and my 

body will never look this good. 

 And every day I find my personality becoming more and more like my dad. When I was growing up, my dad was a hobby enthusiast. He was a member of a Spelunking Club and a Spoonplugging Club (also known as a fishing club). And he took us out camping and on the lake a LOT.

Spelunking Club.

My dad is second from the left.

He's always been interested in cars and when my brothers got older and interested in them, too. They spent MANY hours every week together working on old cars.

And now you know where I get my body from.

Stumpy legs and long torso. Thanks, Dad!

To get all therapist-y on my dad, I think a big part of him keeping busy and having lots of different hobbies and interests is for a couple of main reasons. One, he was drafted in the Army as a young man, and I think having 2 years of your life taken away from you to serve your country would put anyone's spare time into perspective.

Stationed in Alaska.

And two, he was the sole provider for my family and worked long and hard hours at a desk. He definitely worked/still works more and harder than I do, but, I too feel the need to do something with my life when I'm not at work.

Back in the day, visiting dad at the office on a Saturday.

Please note, he has a pic of me on the credenza behind him.

All the gratuitous photos and stories of my family to say... I've realized that running is pretty much my only hobby. I mean, sure, I do other things... I read and watch television and I enjoy cooking and yoga. I would love to hike and camp more often than I do now. And while travel is probably the thing I love most, it's not something that I can do every week/weekend (see: why I don't hike and camp as much as I would like to).  So, the fact that running has become such a chore for me, is kind of slowly sucking away at my soul.

Ahhhh the good ole days.

When my main hobbies included clomping around in adult shoes...

 

And hosting my dolls and imaginary friends

for tea parties.

When the hobby that makes you the happiest and feel the best about yourself, suddenly turns into dogshit, it's hard to get back on track. And it starts affecting your daily life.

All this navel-gazing to say... I think my mental focus on running right now needs to shift into a different direction. I'm going to try not to worry too much about GETTING BACK INTO SHAPE IMMEDIATELY. But, into trying to find enjoyment in running again. Getting back into shape and mileage and speed will all eventually come back.

I feel like I've written these sentiments in MANY posts over the course of the past year or so. And I know, it's boring. But it's something I'm really struggling with. It's not as easy as.... just run when you want! Because, honestly... I'd barely be running if that were the case. And whether I like it or not... I NEED TO RUN. I like who I am when I'm running a lot: I feel better, I sleep better, I work better, I'm a better partner and friend. But, I'm finding that maybe wrapping up so much of my identity into one hobby can be a dangerous game. I wonder if spelunkers have as many existential crises as I do?

I'm Alive

Here I am... it's April 16th, so, I can hopefully get back to my regularly scheduled running and blogging.

There are a few things that I want to catch you up on...

First of all, on the way back from St. Louis, we ran out of gas. Like... stranded on the side of the interstate in Bumfuck, Illinois ran out of gas.

This is what sitting on the side of the road when you've run

out of gas looks like.

And this is what standing on the side of the road

when you've run out of gas looks like.

And this is how the situation rectified itself.

I actually thought it was hilarious and it really only set us back about 30 minutes. At least now, we will have something to reminisce about for 46 miles in the Grand Canyon. Doesn't that sound like fun, Melissa?

Last weekend I wanted to run 20 miles. Scratch that... I NEEDED to run 20 miles. We skipped out on my favorite Striders Run to meet up and run in Ashland City. Melissa, Liz, and I started and at first... things were okay.

But, here's some background... on Saturday, I ate the following: a cookie ice cream sandwich, a cookie at Jason's Deli, ice cream at Jason's Deli, strawberry cake and a couple of cookies after dinner. It was the type of day I dreamed of as a 9 year old girl. ALL THE SUGARS.

The irony is that I spent about an hour on Saturday going to two different grocery stores looking for a gluten free crust for pizza on Saturday night. Only to then eat a piece of cake after dinner, to which The KoB looks at me (again! this has happened before!) and says... doesn't cake have gluten? MOTHERFUCKER!

Despite the gluten... I had had entirely WAYYYYYY too much sugar on Saturday. And I just ate too much in general on Saturday. When I woke up Sunday morning, I couldn't even eat anything, because I was just still so full from the day before. To make a long story short, I had to turn around early and I had to get picked up from the highway because I couldn't finish.

I seriously thought I did.

I got home, showered, and laid in bed for an hour or so and started to get an appetite around 2 or so that afternoon. Lesson learned.

Anyway, now that busy season is over, I can breathe a bit and get back into my regular running routine. I am excited for that. I am trying to find a good race in August/Early September to try for a BQ attempt. Sadly, the race calendar is pretty skimpy on options. I have a lot of regret that I couldn't just woman up and stick with my training for another month or two, so that The Pig could be an honest shot. I feel like it's such a shame to waste the Spring... but on the otherhand, looking back, I think I might have died trying to fit regimented running into work this tax season. 

Oh well. It is what it is. And unfortunately (well... on second thought... fortunately. otherwise I'd be one broke ass girl) running doesn't pay the bills... but work does.

BQ Training Week 14

OMG. 14 weeks in the books. ONLY TWO MORE WEEKS LEFT!

Now is the time for me to chill the eff out. I'm all freaked out that I only hit a 70 mile week ONCE during this training cycle and I'm just generally afraid that I didn't do enough. Shouldn't I be MORE beat up? Shouldn't I want to lay in bed and sleep all day? WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I COULD KEEP GOING ON LIKE THIS FOR 6 MORE WEEKS? ACK!!!!!

Relax, yo.

Anyway, this week was rather exciting because I had a beer mile race on Friday and then The KoB had his goal race on Sunday. SPOILER ALERT: I suck and The KoB truly is a beast. Separate posts on both of those events to come.

Intervals: 3x 800, 600, 400, 200 @ 7:00 pace.
Marathon Pace: 8-10 miles with 2x15 minutes at Marathon Pace
Long: My choice of 14-20 miles.

The interval workout felt totally manageable for once. They were challenging enough that I needed a good amount of focus, but easy enough to make me feel really awesome for a few hours afterwards. Also, since the KoB was tapering, he ran the entire workout with me. Boom.

My marathon pace run went well because my BFF Melissa stepped in and did them with me. I was excited to talk about shopping* and general girly stuff. Yay. But at the end of that run, I started to feel an extreme tightness in my right butt cheek. Fun.

Saturday, I planned on running 20 miles as a last ditch confidence booster. I met up with a posse of The KoB, Steve, and Melissa and about 2 minutes in, my butt started hurting AGAIN. WTF?

It just felt stiff and tight and because of the tightness, my gait was all wonky and that made my pelvic/groan/hip region hurt. Awesome. It didn't keep me from running, but it did keep me from running fast-ish. so, I bailed after 13 miles. FAIL.

I'm convinced that it's the latest model of Vomeros that I bought a couple of weeks ago. I wore other shoes on Friday, Sunday, and today and while I didn't run more than 6 miles any of those times, I never had any hint of pain in my ass region. WHAT THE FUCK, NIKE? I don't understand why every new model of shoes has to CHANGE? Ugh. I went to 3 stores on Saturday searching for a pair of the old model in my size and have looked online and found nothing. My plan is not wear the new shoes again till after the race and I guess I'll just wear my old pair for the marathon. It's not ideal, because those shoes are worn the fuck out. But, at least my ass won't hurt for 26.2 miles.

Time to taper, bitches.

* To be fair, The KoB and I also talk about shopping while we run. Corvette shopping doesn't really count, though.

BQ Training Week 9

Hello, my name is Amy and I'm going through a mid-training cycle crisis.

Something is wrong. I'm getting my workouts done, I'm getting in my mileage and the long runs. But for the last couple of weeks, I've been pretty miserable. If I'm not running with someone or doing a track workout... I'm basically HATING my run. And this is not melodramatic Amy talking. This is REAL AMY. I am hating about 50% of my running. And when I say "hate," I don't mean I just dread the run and wish I could quit... no, I literally would rather walk across a tightrope suspended 100 feet in the air than start/complete my runs.

This sucks and it's the first time in REAL training that I've ever felt this way.

I was practically crying during my long run on Sunday. Not because it hurt or the pace was too hard, but because I'd rather be doing ANYTHING else than actually running. And then I started feeling guilty. Because, my body is handling training okay and I'm doing great on paper... but these long runs and the mid-week longish runs by myself are KILLING MY SOUL.

At first I blamed the rut on the terrible performance at that 15K a couple of weeks ago, and then I started blaming it on work stress, and now I'm starting to think that it's a mixture of fear and laziness. The laziness needs no further explanation, but the fear does. I think I might be subconsciously trying to sabotage myself. Like... I'm afraid that if I do all this training and do everything I'm supposed to... and that I have the perfect day for my marathon in December, I still won't hit that 3:34 and the only excuse I'll have is that I'm just not fast enough.

I want to hit that 3:34, because I am tired of chasing the marathon. I want to do other things with my winter/spring. But, I cannot take a serious break from the marathon until I get a REAL shot at it (where I'm trained and not shitting and/or puking my guts out on the course).

So, as much as I could say here on the blog and to everyone I know... ohh... I'm not gunning for a specific time in December, I'm just trying to PR or whatever... I'm not fooling anyone (myself included). I've only got 4 weeks left of hard training. I'm just going to put on my big girl pants and get through them. Whatever happens in December is what happens. If that rock rolls back down on me... I'll just start pushing it back up again. It's what we do, I guess.

ALSO, if ANYONE lives in Nashville and is willing to do long runs with me.. PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

The workouts:

Track: 4x1600 at 10K pace

Long: 18 miles about 30ish seconds over marathon pace

Bonus: 8 Trail Miles (race)

The track workout was the first one I've had so far where I felt like I was really challenged. It was tough. But, after that workout, I felt like I could do anything.

The long run was fine. Except for my head. MY HEAD IS WHACK. 

The Trail Race Miles was a part of a Bitches Relay. So, obviously there will be a separate post all about that.

It's a new week. Time to get over myself.

Race Report: Shelby Bottoms Boogie 15K

Otherwise known as... the first? race in this training cycle that kick my pansy ass.

Mistakes made:

1. I was actually excited about this race.

I hadn't ran a 15K in YEARS and considering the fact that I think the Half Marathon is my distance, I assumed that a 15K would be right in my wheelhouse these days. 

Lesson Learned: Going into a race with a cocky attitude, like you're going to be schooling bitches all day is just setting yourself up for failure.

2. Getting stuck behind a fuckton of slower runners at the start.

This race started 10 minutes after a 5K started. The 15K had to share a lane with the 5Kers on their way back. THE ROAD IS NOT THAT BIG. UGH. So, of course, I ran my first mile in like 7:20 instead of the 7:45ish that I was planning on.

Lesson Learned: Look at the course maps before the race and either line up closer to the front, or just try to adjust strategy to start out even slower and not worry about all the people that are in front of me lollygagging (particularly because they all ended up passing me in the last 2 miles of the fucking race because I was dying).

3. Engaging in a Battle Royale at miles 1-2 with the woman who would eventually win the damn thing.

After I had passed everyone that I felt like I needed to pass in the first 5 minutes of the race, I settled into a good spot and put cruise control on. Until some woman ran up to me. I'm sure that I instinctually picked up my pace a bit when she got there (duh). But instead of just powering by me, she settled in right next to me. I'd speed up a bit to lose her... she'd speed up. I'd slow down a bit to shake her... she'd slow down. I'd move to the left to avoid something on the road, she'd STAY IN HER SAME SPOT. And if I had to move further away from her, she'd move CLOSER TO ME. At this point, we had the whole road and she was on me like white on rice. It was driving me crazy. Finally, I was like... fine bitch, you wanna race. LET'S RACE. And I picked it up and tried to hang on. 

I could hear her coughing and clearing her throat a bit and I thought to myself... ohhhh... yes... I got this bitch. Because, I was feeling good. I was ready to school bitches. We ran past a water stop and neither of us stopped. We were neck-in-neck for two miles. Eventually, I pulled ahead a couple of steps of her and she let me stay there and then she pulled ahead and blasted by me. And then she eventually ended up passing ALL the women ahead of us and winning the damn thing.

Lesson Learned: Don't let some bitch determine your race pace THAT EARLY IN THE RACE. I was so pissed at her... trying to RACE me at such an early point in the race. But, I guess, I was just as guilty... letting her duel me.

4. Letting myself just get more and more disgusted with myself.

By mile 4 or so, I was toast. And instead of just letting that go and trying to focus on finishing the race, I kept telling myself in my head how shitty I was and how terrible I felt. Which just made me feel worse and more shitty.

Lesson Learned: RUN, don't think!

5. Skipping all the water stops.

It was an unseasonably warm day and after my warm-up, getting ready to line up in the corral, my friend Jeff commented: "You look like you've already raced." Translation: Whoa, bitch... why are you already sweating your ass off?

Lesson Learned: Uh, it's hot out... DRINK SOME DAMN WATER.

6. A 250 calorie Breakfast before a 9 mile race isn't probably enough.

I just completely ran out of gas. Between that and the water and the sweating... I was practically hallucinating the last few miles. Although, I don't think I hallucinated The KoB's encouraging/disgusted look at me when the 500th girl easily passed me with about a mile to go.

Lesson Learned: Food is fuel, bitch.

In the end I finished with a very disappointing time. I went from the 6th female overall around mile 4 to not even placing in my age group. It was disgusting, it felt terrible and frankly, it was embarrassing. I just completely collapsed out there.

 The KoB was nice enough to run out and pace me for the last 

4-5 miles or so. JUST IN TIME TO WITNESS MY COLLAPSE.

Awesome!

See those fuckers behind me?

Yeah, I'm sure they passed me, too.

EVERYONE PASSED ME.

My race sucked ass. But, as soon as I crossed the finish line and caught my breath and got over my disgusting performance, I asked The KoB how the 5K went...

"Meh." He replied.

"Did you PR?"

Shrug.

"Did you win?"

"Meh."

"Did you place?"

"Meh."

 

 The KoB at the start of his race.

Stalking his prey.

 

Finally, I gave up and walked over to the results board.

HE FUCKING WON THE DAMN THING.

ASSHOLE!

At least we had something to celebrate. And honestly, I think having a bad race day was good for me. It reminded me that racing well doesn't come easy. I have to work for it and the stars have to align in just the right way or ya know, I just have to not be an asshat and make stupid mistakes.

BQ Training Week 5

First of all, just typing that last week was week 5 put me into a panic mode. HOLYFUCKINGSHIT I've only got like 11 weeks left!

THAT IS NOT ENOUGH TIME!!!

Ummm. Okay. Back to the topic at hand: LAST WEEK.

Last week was a bit of a cut back week, but to my relief, I still got to run over 50 miles. My coach is awesome.

Workouts:
Intervals: 4x1600s at Marathon Pace.
Mid-week long run: 12 miles
Long run: 18 miles with the last 4 cutting down to Marathon Pace.

My interval workout went really well. For one, since it was mile repeats (MY FAVORITE!!), I skipped the track and went to the park instead. Take THAT Belmont Men's Soccer Team! It was nice to do a workout where I wasn't filled with rage and dodging soccer balls the entire time. Extra bonus: I ran into The KoB and his Tuesday morning workout crew and he ran the last two with me. I ran them too fast (of course) and walked around the rest of the day feeling pretty fucking awesome.

Boom bitches. Marathon Pace? Try Half Marathon Pace.

And then my awesomeness turned into a slogfest of regret when I attempted my mid-week 12 miler and I realized, um. yeah. okay, scale it back a bit on those track days, bitch. The KoB got roped into volunteered to run most of that run with me and even though it felt like we were running a decent pace, every mile split was very easy pace. I was disappointed.

I also went into full bitch mode when he routed the course differently than I had expected. I get a little cranky when I think I'm almost done and then someone tells me we have to go to x,y,z to get the mileage. WTF? WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ALMOST DONE. Thankfully, The KoB didn't push me into oncoming traffic like he should have but, uh, he will probably think twice about volunteering to run one of those runs with me again.

Cue: cute puppy gif as penance.

I was psyched about the long run, because the Strider's had a training run planned for Saturday but then rain was predicted and they moved the run to Sunday instead of Saturday.

Yes, I'm trying to see how many gifs I can put into one post.

Spoiler: this is last one, so I guess only 4. 

I had Saturday night plans that involved drinking and eating gluten, so I convinced Steve to meet me for 8 of the miles on Saturday morning. I left my house a little after 6 and ran down to Shelby Bottoms which is surprisingly ONLY 5 miles from my house. Even though, in my head, it seems like it should be at least 8. 

The run went okay, but I just couldn't get my pace down to Marathon Pace. I tried to do it while I was running with Steve, because I knew that the 5 miles home were going to be mostly uphill. But, I just couldn't do it. On the way back I had to re-route because of a goddamn Color Run.

The Happiest 5K on the planet?

Are you shitting me?

Newsflash: 5Ks are supposed to be the devil's race.

They are supposed to fucking hurt like hell 

and you think you're going to die the whole time

and then the goddamn thing is over and you puke at the 

finish line and then eat 2-3 doughnuts. Cause.. Mmm... doughnuts.

THAT'S A 5K.

Okay, see? Cranky, when I have to change my course at the end of a run.

I'm sorry, I think the color run is the most fucking ridiculous thing in the world. You pay $40 to walk/jog through stations that blow colored powder on you? This makes NO SENSE to me. You know how much corn starch and food coloring you can get for $40? Hell, I'll throw colored powder on you for $5 AND let you drink beer while you do it. I am clearly in the minority on this because there were hundreds of people at this "run." Wayyyyy more than any actual 5K I've ever ran. Yes, I am a fuddy duddy and generally just an all around asshole about most things. /rant.

I was pretty disappointed with my run on Saturday. I am frustrated that I just can't seem to nail the marathon pace miles in my long runs. Coach told me... DONT WORRY YOU HAVE 11 WEEKS OF TRAINING LEFT. And The KoB advised that I should make a clear-cut start time for the pace miles in advance instead of just starting the run and being like... ohhhh.. I'll start them at 13 or 14 or ya know.. WHENEVER. Cause Whenever usually turns into UhNever.

Overall, week 5 kinda sucked. But, it's over now and time to roll into week 6. 

P.S. Wow. I just re-read this post and uhh... yeah, it's quite bitchy. But, whatev. We all have those weeks.

Week 13

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” 

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

If someone would have referenced the above quote to me last week, I probably would have kicked them in the shins. But thankfully, a week later I can see how melodramatic and whack I can be.

Last week was a bitch. Not necessarily running-wise, but just in general. I was on nervous breakdown watch at work. I am still experiencing some network problems that keep me from being able to do any work, which, ummm... Is pretty fucking stressful, y'all.

My running was fairly light on the workout side. I really only had one workout to complete and I was a total fucking mess before it even started. Soooo... Without further adieu here's the week...

Workouts: 

Fast: The tempo run from hell (4 mile progressive with each mile 15 seconds faster than the previous).

Long: 14 miles with some tempo miles in there.

Total: 60+ish

So, yeah, the tempo run was pretty much fucked before I even started it. I did it on Wednesday night and luckily I had The KoB there to run it with me. Initially, I was pretty excited about the run. It was going to give me a chance to see how I felt running at a slightly quicker pace. But, by the time I met up with The KoB and got started with the warm up, the excitement was gone and frankly, after a long couple of days at work, I just kinda felt like dogshit and running a workout was the last thing that I wanted to do. As we got closer to the park, I actually felt myself starting to TEAR up. WTF?

We got started and the first one felt pretty decent, but there was a discrepancy between my gps watch and the landmarks for the one mile loop. The first couple of miles, according to my watch I didn't hit my splits the way I was supposed to and that just sent me into a bit of a tailspin, mentally. Luckily, The KoB was there and wouldn't let me fall apart physically. We finished them and I was totally wrecked. I got home and basically went straight to bed. 

The next day when I logged my workout, Coach came on and left a message about why all the sorrow? That I had hit my splits perfectly. But, it was just one of those days. One of those days where the workout comes hard and leaves you feeling weak and defeated, even if you did exactly what you were supposed to do. Running/training can really fuck you up in the head, yo.

My long run deserves its own post, so stay tuned for that.

The rest of the week went really, really well. I got in two longer midweek runs, two doubles and I still managed a rest day and ended up with over 60 miles for the week. BOOM.

(For once, I actually have an excuse for typos, boring writing, and grammatical errors. Please excuse it all as I type and post this from an airplane on an iPad. Which, btw, holy fucking shit is it hard to put the cursor where you want it. If this were my iPad, it'd be floating down 10,000 feet somewhere over Oklahoma. Instead, I've just injured my index finger from an hour of aggressive tapping. Ugh, technology. Blarg).

Week 11

Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure that you are not, in fact, simply surrounded by assholes. 
                                                                              William Gibson.

Well, folks, after weeks of awesome runs where I felt like I was riding a fucking unicorn on my tempo runs, the shit finally hit the fan.

It was inevitable.

Here's some boring background information that you can just skip if you're not into the whole THESE ARE MY EXCUSES, FEEL SORRY FOR ME type of thing. So, last week was a perfect example of life affecting my running. I recently fell into a new project at work that is equal parts AWESOME and HARD. It's pretty much become solely my responsibility and I'm not really getting the support/help that I thought I would have. It's challenging and I really, really enjoy it... but last week things kinda came to a head. I was waking up in the middle of the night anxious and frantic and jotting down journal entries that needed to be made (aka accounting bullshit). I'm never the type that just FEELS stressed out. It always comes out in other ways... like insomnia, irrational fits of crying, drinking too much, no appetite, etc. And I found out the hard way that you can't hide from stress. It will hunt you down (in your sleep,even) and fuck you up.

The workouts:

Fast: 5x800s 

The Tempo: 6 miles 

The Long: 17 miles

The Total: 60 miles

My interval workout is when I realized that the stress was getting to me. I ran my first and last interval about 15 seconds slower than I was supposed to. This is something new for me. I'm used to blowing it out on interval workouts, so the fact that I couldn't hit my intervals was quite disappointing. So disappointing that I actually fucking cried when they were over. WTF? Crying during your cool down = Stressed. I tried to keep it from Steve, but I'm pretty sure my ragged, crying breath is quite different than my OMG I'm going to die from running fast breath. Lame.

The next day I had an easy run with the KoB that felt absofuckinglutely terrible. Misery loves company as we were both struggling during the run. My upper body felt fatigued, my insides were stabbing me with side stitches, and my legs felt like I was running through concrete. Awesome!

By Thursday, I was sure that I was turning a corner in my Shitsgiving Week. Thankfully, The KoB met me for my tempo run and while it was an absolutely beautiful morning, the run felt pretty fucking awful. I managed to crank them out and felt better towards the end than I did in the beginning. But, they did not come easy and I ran them too goddamn fast. If The KoB hadn't been there, I would have definitely quit after the first one and then would have wound up in a heap on the ground crying and begging someone for a ride home.

After that run, I took a rest day. And proceeded to go out with my friend Liz for a happy hour that was only supposed to be a couple of beers. Four beers, three cocktails, no lunch or dinner, and about 4 hours later and I was lying on my bathroom floor puking my guts out. That lasted for about 10 hours. For about 3 of those hours in the morning, I laid in bed yelling expletives and groaning as loud as I could. (In between getting up and running to the bathroom, of course). Needless to say, I skipped running that day, too.

So, after two rest days I went out for my long run on Sunday. I didn't know what to expect (particularly after I was pretty sure that I actually puked my entire liver out on Saturday morning), but against all odds, I had a pretty damn good long run. Thanks in large part to Steve meeting me and kicking my ass on the 11.2.

With two rest days I ended up with way less than 60 miles for the week. But, I got my workouts and long run in, so, the week was not lost. Last week sucked, but it's those kind of weeks that give me confidence. Even though I wasn't hitting my intervals in Tuesdays workout, I stuck with them. And even though I felt like giving up during the tempo run, I kept at it and actually did really well (TOO WELL, I know!). When running feels good, it's easy. Too easy. But knowing that I stuck it out when it got tough... that's where the real stuff is. 

Although, for fuckssake, let this week be better.

Hurricane Run

This post may seem in bad taste, as my experience with Hurricane Sandy was a pretty "cushy" one in comparison to millions of others. But, I want to say that I mean no harm and am not a cold, heartless bitch (well, at least when it comes to my favorite city, NYC. The jury is still out otherwise). If you haven't done so already and can spare anything, please consider donating to a local charity in an area that was affected by Hurricane Sandy. Need some ideas?

Food Bank for NYC
Animal Care and Control of NYC
Tunnel to Towers Hurricane Sandy Relief for Staten Island

So, last weekend, I accompanied the KoB on what we thought was going to be a short trip to Boston. (So quick that I knew I wouldn't really have time to hang out with my BFF, Lauren. But, another trip just for that purpose will be planned soon. Promise). To be completely honest, I am like the worst person with the weather. I grew up in a family that never took cover during tornado warnings or stocked up on bread and milk before a predicted snowpocalypse. My mom, sweet as she is, is like the stoic evolutionist/survival of the fittest/we're only as strong as our weakest link leader of our family. Fall down and are bleeding and oh shit, is that a bone poking out of the skin? Nahhhh.. my mom would say... nothing a little peroxide can't fix. I mean, seriously. I never had a fever growing up. BECAUSE SHE WOULDN'T LET ME. Anyway... all this to say.. I have grown up to think that NOTHING can get me down. No sickness and surely no epic weather system. Hurricane/Smurricane. Weather forecasters always oversell that shit, right?

Uhh... except... they don't. I mean, 95% of the time, they do... but that 5% can be a real bitch. I had heard a little bit about Hurricane Sandy, but I completely wrote it off. A hurricane? No. That's not going to happen.

Anyway... our flight home got cancelled and so we were stuck in Boston for another day. Which, you think... ooooo fun... extra/bonus/vacation day. Except, no. Everything was closed, the satellite was out in the hotel (THE HORROR), and finally, after staring at the KoB for like 3 hours in our room, I dragged him out to walk around in the swirling winds and rain. I AM SUCH A FUN GIRLFRIEND. Full disclosure, we walked like a mile and then saw a cab and took it back to the hotel. PANSIES.

Anyway... let's back up. So, there was supposed to be a 5K that we were running on Monday morning, but in the expectation of the storm, it was cancelled. Yay! We can sleep in, etc. Uh... Wrong. We decided to run the race route anyway.

 

Dumbfucks.

Now, I've ran in monsoons, extreme heat, cold wind, snow, up mountains, down mountains, and everything in between. But, this was unlike anything I've ran in before.

As soon as we stepped outside, I was like... what the hell am I doing? It was windy and misty. And as we got further from the hotel, and closer to the water, it got windier and wetter. Finally we made it to some beach that the race was supposed to take place along and there was a causeway that went out onto the water and... yeah... WE RAN ACROSS IT. WTF? The wind was unbelievable and the water/mist/rain was pelting so hard that I thought the wind had picked up sand and was throwing it at us. I ran with one finger in my ear to protect it from the wind and water (Sorry, Mom! Total wuss move).

To make things MORE fun, the people we were following got LOST (I just assininely assumed that they were trying to run extra. But, WTF? Who runs extra mileage during a hurricane?), they eventually stopped and let us catch up and were all.. "have you seen that statute where we're supposed to turn?" YES YOU DUMBASS, IT WAS ABOUT 1.5 MILES BACK. So... we ended up running about 8 miles in a hurricane.

Survivors. (Still dumbfucks).

Week 6 Review

*

Last week's training was terrible. I was basically running with sore muscles every freaking day.

Monday, I was still sore from the race on Saturday. Tuesday afternoon, I took a hot yoga class that I apparently OVERstretched in every position in. I was practically an invalid for the next 3 days. I have NEVER been as sore during runs as I was Wednesday night and Thursday morning. Good lord it was terrible.

I'm just glad the fucking week is over with. And now, I'm scared to go back to that yoga class even though I love the people that opened the studio and I want to support it, but jesus christ, I just can't handle being that sore and the room is so hot and makes you feel so stretchy that it's so easy to overstretch and then you'll be sore for DAYSSSSSS and prone to run-on sentences. UGH.

Here's the particulars of the week:
The fast: 5x400s @ 2:00 ALL BY MYSELF.
The long: 14 miles.
The total: 55 miles.
Wildcard workout: 8 miles on the trails for a Relay.

Well, I knew it was coming. My coach had told me the weekend before that there were going to be some workouts that I was going to have to do alone. BUZZKILL. And this week was one of those weeks. Turned out alright though. Of course, I did them way too fucking fast and was slapped gently on the wrist sarcastically teased by Coach AND the KoB. POINT TAKEN, YOU GUYS. Math=hard.

My long run went surprisingly well... Particularly since I waited until Sunday to do it. I felt like shit for the first couple of miles, but got warmed up and instead of bailing at 11, like I had the option to, I kept going. SUCCESS. Running with the Run Bitches helped.

I was so excited that I was allowed to run 55 miles, but sadly the soreness I had all week meant I only made it to 53. Honestly, with how lousy I felt, I'm surprised I managed to get that many in.

The RUN BITCHES ran a marathon relay this weekend. Upcoming post on that.

Yes, there are team shirts.

Adios, week 6. You piece of shit.

 

* Since last week was so freaking godawful, I don't even have an inspirational or thought-provoking quotation to start the review with. All I can say is... sometimes running sucks ass.

Race Report: Run for Rotary 5K

WTF is wrong with me? I've been itching to run a 5K for awhile now. WHY???? Because 5Ks are so glamorous and they are so freaking hard for me. The thing is this... I've never trained for a 5K. So, all my attempts are me just hoping and praying and doing voodoo dances the night before that "race day magic" will strike and I'll end up PRing. Sadly, my friends, that happens like once every 2 years. One of these days (I keep saying this), I'm going to put some time into SERIOUSLY training for a 5K, but that day is not today.

So, without further adieu, the race report that I am the most experienced in writing:

The time where I thought I was going PR, just because I'm awesome, but then I discovered about a mile in, that 5Ks don't care how awesome you are, they just want to steal your soul and stomp all over your confidence.

Yay!

Friday before the race, I was amped up! I had committed myself (mentally) to the pain and suffering and was ready to go to battle. Bring on the pain, bitches! Strangely enough, the pain wasn't really the issue. I mean, don't get me wrong, that SOB 5K hurt like hell. BUT, some other factors were at play, as well.

Things I learned from not PRing:

1. The timing of the warm-up is KEY. Particularly when it's cold and damp outside. I thought I was timing my warm up perfectly, I finished with about 5 minutes before race start (and I should note that that was 5 minutes LATER than the dude yelling into the microphone was suggesting. Uhhh.. there's like 200 people here dude, we don't need to be at the start line 10 minutes before the race starts). It was our first really cold, really damp morning of the fall and I was freezing my ass off in those 5 minutes.

And then... 5 minutes turned into about 15. Because, they started the 10K first and then kept saying... we'll start the 5K 2 minutes after the 10K (seemed reasonable to me). EXCEPT 10 MINUTES LATER... we get lined up.

I get it. It's a charity race. No bigs. But, holy crap, it was cold outside. And my legs became frozen blocks of ice in that 15-20 minutes of standing around waiting for the start. And for a 5K, I kinda like my legs to be warm. Ya know?

I did jog around a bit on the track before the 10K started. But, those last 10 minutes, I was standing around waiting to get started.

Throwing jealous death daggers with my eyes to that

little girl with tights AND a hoodie on. Bitch.

Lesson Learned: ASK the RD what the precise start time of your race is going to be. And then don't believe him and jog around for an extra 5 minutes.

2. Uhhh... Here's a little nugget of knowledge: To run fast, you should probably practice running fast. Like, I dunno, maybe have some intervals in your training or something.

Lesson Learned: You're probably not going to PR, if the fastest you've been running in your workouts is 8:30 pace. Dumbass.

3. Dress for success. So, here's an embarrassingly little factoid... My 5K PRs have always come when I'm wearing compression tights. This thought didn't occur to me, until about 30 seconds into this race when I was wrangling with my shorts waistband, trying to keep those fuckers up. 

The thing is... when I run fast (say anything under a 7:45), things... body parts... jostle around a bit too much. I'm not talking about my boobs. I got those suckers locked and loaded in my sports bra. I'm talking about my gut. It's uncomfortable, it's inconvenient (cause it jostles my shorts off) and it just fucking sucks.

Lesson Learned: Wear compression tights to suck in all those jiggly parts. (Also, related: will have to be a winter race, because I cannot handle compression tights when it's over 38 degrees).

 This was about 400 meters into the race. This was before

my dream unicorn of a PR gored me with it's horn.

4. Time your splits. So, this is a change for me. In the recent past, I've been firmly in the... "I don't need to know what my splits are as I'm running" camp. My idea was that if I looked down and saw a 7:19 for the first mile, I'd flip out and slow down. That was old Amy. New Amy WANTS to see a 7:19 for the first mile and then a 7:19 for the next mile and the next mile, etc. I'm no longer scared of running too fast. Now, I'm scared of running too slow. (Thank god, because uhhhh that's the point of a race, I think). Welcome to racing, Amy. Took you long enough to figure this shit out.

Lesson Learned: Time your splits. And then speed up! 

 With about 600-400 meters left to go. 

God, I hate 5Ks.

5. Constantly tugging at your shirt, because it's too short is annoying as hell.

Lesson Learned: It's time to retire the orange Scenic City shirt. Especially after your belly makes a sneak appearance in every race photo.

The words of my eloquent coach after seeing my results.

Thank god my next race is a half marathon... Uhh.... this weekend.

Week 3 Review

 It is never too late to be what you might have been.
                                                      -- George Eliot

Holy crap. I'm already done with week 3. I think that's the worst thing about marathon training: it makes time fly by. One day you're thinking... awww shit, I gots all kinds of time before the race and then the next week, you're like holy shit, the race is in 3 weeks! It's scary.

Anyway, this week in running, truthfully, kinda sucked. The following was noted in my running log, each describing a run from this week:

Dogshit.
Sucky Sucky Sucky.
Fucking sucked ass.
Horrifically boring.

Yay!!!! Marathon training!

Now for the details.

The fast: Repeat of last week. 6 total miles with 3 miles @ 8:45-8:50 pace.
The long: 12 miles.
The total: 45 miles.

So, the tempo run was really, really hard. I managed to run the 3 miles at 8:34, 8:34. and 8:48. But the "sucky sucky sucky" from above came from that run. I just felt like crap.

Exactly.

I did my long run on Friday before I left town and while parts of it felt amazing, parts of it felt awful (mainly all the uphill parts). I went to Percy Warner Park and ran to the 6 mile marker and then turned around and ran back. Surprisingly, I kinda liked that route. (Skipping 9 mile hill always makes for a better run. However, running the backside of 3 mile hill is RIDICULOUS). 

On Sunday, I managed to drag my ass out of bed in Lexington and run the most boring out of town run I've ever had. Our hotel was in a weird area and there were very few sidewalks (none along the main road), so instead of running an out-and-back (my favorite run), I had to ziggity zaggity all over a neighborhood.

 The arrow is where I had to run off in the woods for a potty break. Ugh.

Week 3 sucked. But, it's over now.

Edited to add: Pay no attention to that elevation profile. I was not running up and down mountains, the scale was ridiculously small, like a total range of 20 ft or something.

Speedwork Sucks.

Week One of Half Marathon Training: Um. Holy fuck. There is one thing that is clear after this first week: I am going to have to work my goddamn ass off if I want to get anywhere near a PR in less than 2 months.

Like, whoa.... I forgot how hard speedwork is. And not even FAST speedwork. But like, faster than my regular ole shit show runs speedwork (which isn't that fast, folks).

I had two workouts this week on the schedule:

Monday: MOTHER EFFIN' HILL REPEATS
If you can get to some hills (or even one good hill), warmup and do 7 repeats running up the hill at 10K effort.

Friday: THE HARDEST TEMPO RUN YOU WILL NEVER MAKE YOUR SPLITS FOR.

Warm up for 10 minutes and then run about 30 minutes progressively, approaching 10K pace (7:40ish) near the end. You should feel like it was a good effort, but not really hard. Ideally, you should feel like you could continue for a while longer. Cool down 10 mins.  

I knew there was going to be a bit of an adjustment period. But, daaaaaaamn. Both days I felt like I had just been chewed up and spit out. Not pretty. I know after a couple of weeks of this, it will start to feel less like death and more like a really good challenge. But good god, I forgot how rough of a start it is.

Blarg.

Funktown Population: 1

I'm over it. I swear to God, I am. Emotionally and physically... I'm over it. Right? I mean, I'm back to my happy, optimistic self. I don't get teary-eyed or even angry anymore when I think about that day. Honestly, I don't even really think about it. But, as much as it feels like I've moved on... my runs have been total shit lately.

The week after the race, my runs were all great. I was fueled by emotions... some days it was anger or frustration that fueled my run, other days it was sadness and disappointment. But whatever it was... I felt something and it felt good to burn through it on a run.

Enter last week. Last week was the week that reminded me why I stopped "training" for marathons and races in the first place. Because it really, really sucks to not meet your goal (or to not even fucking finish). And now I'm left with feeling nothing about my running. Any confidence that I had from weeks of training, from kick ass speed work, from killing my half marathon PR... has all kinda gone to shit. I'm back to thinking that the marathon isn't my distance and that I just can't race it. That DNF totally dicked me over. Thanks for crushing my dreams and my soul in one fell swoop, bowels!

I realize in the grand scheme of things, this isn't a big deal. It will pass. I'll have some spectacularly awesome run soon (PLEASE, GOD, LET IT BE SOON!) and my runs will start feeling better again. But, my head... that's going to take some serious un-fucking-up in the next few months.

Race Report: The Flying Pig Marathon

This is the post that I never wanted to write. And I certainly never dreamed I'd be writing it about THIS race. THIS race that I was in the best running shape of my life.

I'm not really ready/interested/willing to talk in great lengths about the race on here. Even if I was... there isn't a lot to say. I'm disappointed, pissed off, embarrassed, sad, and frankly, over it.

I'm not the type to wallow around in my failures, so, the idea of going into some melodramatic, detailed, woe-is-me race report kinda makes me want to vomit. But, I like you guys (most of you, anyway), and even though I'm kinda done talking about it, I feel like I owe you guys some sort of explanation. (And also, this way, instead of having 5 different conversations with some of you individually about this whole piece of shit race, I can just say it once and be done with it).

Sunday morning was perfect. I couldn't have asked for a better start to a race. The weather was brilliant, I wasn't nervous, I was in my proper corral about 30 minutes before the start of the race, I was hydrated, fueled, and mentally prepared to push and hurt and run the race of my life.

And despite the perfect conditions, by mile 17, I was done. And the hardest thing, the most gut-wrenching part of the whole miserable experience is that I can't place the blame on one thing. I can't say, Amy, by doing this, you royally fucked this race up. SO DON'T EVER FUCKING DO THAT AGAIN!

I didn't go out too fast and blow up. I didn't suffer some kind of awful injury on the course (thank god). The hills didn't off me (although, they sure as hell tried). I didn't get too hot. The race wasn't too crowded. I wasn't undertrained or overtrained.

And yet, I didn't finish.

What pulled me from the race isn't some kind of glorious, epic excuse... Nope, I'm not awesome enough for that. I had to quit the race because I was literally running my guts out. From one porta potty to the next. There is no way to sugarcoat this, so I'm not even going to try; starting around mile 7, I got an awful case of the shits. At first, I thought I'd just have to make a couple of stops and it'd be no big deal. Unfortunately, it got to the point where about a tenth of a mile after my last stop, I was looking for the next porta potty.

I don't think it was my dinner the night before, or my fueling the morning of. I wasn't dehydrated or experiencing heat exhaustion, I didn't have some kind of random stomach flu or bug. I just couldn't run without having to stop every 3-5 minutes to take a crap. I don't know what the hell my problem was, but my stomach was not interested in me running a marathon that day.

And so instead of finishing my 16th marathon. I DNFed for the first time.

Onward and upward. Or whatever.

Race Report: Purity Dash 10k

The Good:

-- I PRed! 49:33.
-- My first two miles were 7:19 and 7:27. Soo... BOOM, bitches!

The Bad:

-- My first two miles were 7:19 and 7:27.
-- I thought I was going to DIE the rest of the race. No joke. My splits:
Mile 1: 7:19
Mile 2: 7:27
Mile 3: 8:01
Mile 4: 8:17
Mile 5: 8:20
Mile 6: 8:10

The Ugly:

Not surprising, when you feel like shit... you LOOK like shit. Awesome.

This might go down as one of the worst executions of a race I've ever had. I'm not saying I could have had a faster time at the race (because, who knows???), but I could have been a little smarter and not felt like I was going to DIE.

How did I manage to have such an epic crash and burn race? Uhhh... I thought it would be a good idea to run only on feel. My garmin just displayed the distance, so I had no freaking clue what pace I was running. Terrible idea. TERRIBLE.

Oh well, at least I enjoyed an ice cream sandwich and a Jungle Juice after the race. OH WAIT, NO I DIDNT, because they were out of both. Hmph.