Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Last week/weekend brought some tough runs - heavy, tired legs and an overall feeling of fatigue. I've chalked it up to a combination of too little sleep and perhaps a smidgen of over-training. Thursday I did a late 7, then Saturday an early morning 12 on the marathon course. While out for this long run, I was reminded of a few things about the course:

1. It's pretty much all downhill from Heartbreak to Kenmore (meaning the first 6 miles of my run were almost entirely uphill)
2. You're never without other runners, no matter the day or time
3. Wearing DFMC apparel on the Boston Marathon course elicits cheers and support from strangers, whether it's Patriot's Day or a random Tuesday in January.

And so that brings us to last night's workout. A handful of the usual suspects arrived at the usual track to find a high school soccer game occupying the space we usually train on. Bullocks. We hemmed and hawed over what to do and then finally decided to run around Fresh Pond. Sounds like a perfectly good solution, right? Well, did I mention it was 7:15 at this point and growing darker by the second?

A few of us weren't so jazzed by this option, but we agreed to run in a pack and just go for it. Call it team hazing, I guess. We ran the almost-mile to Fresh Pond as a warm-up then as we entered the dimly-lit tree-covered path for the actual workout, we all had a moment of "Wow, this is really sketchy." As my dad would say, it was "dahk as a faht" and we could barely make out the terrain below us, never mind the people and animals ahead of us. All the trash cans looked like strangers lurking in the shadows and one area where the trees parted looked exactly like a monster, ready to snatch us up and skewer us.

Nonetheless, we did it - 2 and a half miles around the pond at a pace that was comfortable for some and challenging for others. It was certainly a change from the norm and I think it made for some good team bonding. And if nothing else, it kept us all focused on continuing our run at a good clip - we all wanted to get the heck out!

The End of Summer and The Beginning of a New Era

This week brought lots of mile-markers in the (rat) race of my life. Following Monday's first-ever 25K, Thursday was the last river race of the summer. I ran it conservatively with Kristan, as my legs were still tired and sore from Monday, keeping around a 9 minute mile, but picking up the pace in the last mile. I really do like training with her - we're pretty evenly matched, but she knows how to actually pace herself and run a smart race. Following the race, the usual suspects danced the night away to a fabulous U2 cover band. It's always sad to see the summer come to an end, but I love fall running, which makes the season change a little easier to handle.

Then Friday was a VERY big day. I bought my first road bike. Yep. ME. On a REAL BIKE that is NOT neon pink. It's pretty sweet. Since the color scheme is a bit more understated than what I'm accustomed to, I jazzed her up with a pink bottle cage. Unfortunately, it poured that night and Saturday so I couldn't test her out right away. Instead, I took advantage of the crummy weather to get all the necessary accessories, along with a tutorial on how to change a flat. Big thanks to Noah for providing both :)

Saturday, despite the off and on downpours, I faithfully hit the pavement for a token 9 mile "long run." I wanted to do 11, but the legs weren't having it. I'll hop back up to 13 or 14 this coming weekend, though. Anyway, it was soupy and humid outside, I was exhausted and the greasy breakfast I had 4 hours earlier made me feel kind of gross, but I did it and fought through the misery. I always remind myself that the bad runs make me appreciate the good ones all the more. And if I can suffer through bad long runs now under less than ideal conditions, hopefully that will make race day feel like a cakewalk.

Then today I FINALLY got to stretch the legs of my new bike. Noah and I headed up to Walden Pond, where we rode 20 miles around the Concord/Lexington area, then hopped in the water to cool down a bit and relax. I really enjoyed being out in the open air and the speed still scares me, along with the whole riding in the street thing, but I'm getting more comfortable on the bike and I already feel stronger than I did last weekend when I took out another bike for a 15 mile test ride. The days left to ride outside are precious few, but hopefully I'll be able to take full advantage of it while I can, and get stronger in my running by cross training more, without turning into this guy.

Pace Yourself

Four weeks from this Sunday I'll be running the BAA Half. I've been sticking to my training schedule, but up until now not really focusing on pace - just covering the miles. My mind started to wander just now toward running and racing and I started thinking about beating last year's time - 1:52:21.

With another year of fitness and training behind me, I thought "I shouldn't have trouble shaving a couple of minutes off that," and then plugged it into the ever-handy pace calculator on CoolRunning.com. Turns out my pace to beat is 8:34. Somehow I didn't remember running it that hard. Hmm...

Can I do it? We'll see!

Actual Training Week 3 - A "Crappy" Race

Labor Day Weekend! Sunshine! Cookouts! Beer! Boat! Sleeping in! 25K road race! Huh?

Yeah, I might be certifiably insane. Saturday night, Noah and I hit the two different parties, one of which was thrown by some of my favorite running friends. During this party, we of course all talked a LOT about running, and several attendees mentioned they were doing the Around Cape Ann 25K on Monday, which advertises itself as having "16 crazy hills." 16 hills over 15.5 miles? Uh....

Once again Noah was slated to do a longer distance than me (15 for him, 11-12 for me), but I was feeling ambitious so we decided what the heck and while the rest of the world was sleeping off their Labor Day Weekend Hangover, we hit the road at 7am for Gloucester, where we registered for the race, got our Tshirts, geared up, applied Body Glide and made a couple of necessary bathroom runs -- the most important thing any runner will do pre-race.

We settled into the corral and when the gun went off, we discussed our race strategy. It was a training run for both of us. He was running it by heart rate, staying in his lowest 2 zones, and I was shooting to run just under 9 minute miles so I tagged along because those 2 zones happen to coincide closely that pace. We got moving and the course was breathtaking. Ocean landscapes, trees, beautiful homes, sand dunes, green grass, fresh sea air - everything you'd expect from a race in Gloucester. However there was one thing the course didn't have along its route - porta potties (Spoiler alert: I'm foreshadowing here).

We chatted the whole way. I was counting the number of hills we'd run and making bad jokes, he was pointing out beautiful views, nice homes and funny looking people. We even passed a horse-drawn carriage and a cage of chickens. Then around mile 8 I felt the slightest urge that I would need to visit a bathroom soon. No worries. I'd felt it before and figured I could hold out. Then mile 10 came -- CODE BROWN, as Abby would say.

Around mile 11, Noah took a Gu. I told him I'd love another, too, but that at the moment, I was racing my colon to the finish line. I was sure I could easily hold out for another 5 miles. What's 45 minutes, right? And maybe we'd pass a porta-john by then. The urge came and subsided in varying degrees of urgency. I told myself it was mind over body, just like finishing Boston when your legs are blown out, and chalked it up to good practice. FOCUS, Brenda -- 9 min pace. Ooh, a hill! Ohh, a pretty view! Ooh, funny shorts on that guy! Oooh, a dead mouse!

By mile 13 the situation was dire but how could I stop to go with only 2.5 miles left?? I gritted my teeth and fought it through another mile or so. Then we hit a slight incline. Running uphill seemed to ease the strain a little, but downhill was dicey... At this point it was a crapshoot (wokka wokka!) whether I'd finish the race without A) stopping or B) accidentally pooping my pants. Honestly.

We neared the end and with less than a 1/4 mile to go, we hit a STEEP hill. I screamed out "Who puts a steep hill at the very end of a race? That's just cruel!! I'm going to CRUSH IT." And with that, I charged up it, hearing Noah yell "Hey!!!" from behind me. Bad idea. Almost to the top, I came centimeters away from releasing the beast inside me. That slowed me right down. My lungs burned, my throat was closing up, my whole body was protesting. Noah caught me. The finish line finally in sight, I was SO glad to be there. Noah broke into a sprint and was yelling for me to follow. I picked up the pace and once again, my body was threatening to explode.

I finished (thank God!!), hustled through the finish chute, got my wicked sweet finisher's medal that has a fisherman on it and says "16 crazy hills" and then (according to Noah) sprinted to the porta-potties faster than I ran any part of the entire race. It was ugly, and my agony continued well into the afternoon (I assume because I fought it for so long), much to the amusement of my friends. But that still didn't stop me from having fried clams, steamers with tobasco sauce, a sweet, delicious Cherry Wheat beer and ice cream at Woodman's that afternoon.

Now are you ready for your dose of irony for the day? Two of the race's sponsors were The Shed (a porta potty company) and an accounting firm named (wait for it...) Shatswell, MacLeod and Company. Go ahead and laugh. I sure did :)

A Recap

Yeah, yeah, yeah... I've been slacking on the blogging (sorry, Barry!) but I haven't been slacking on the running. Alow me to catch you up on where I've been these last few weeks -- except for this week, which I'll save this week for a separate post.

Actual training: Week 1 -- "Back on the Wagon"

Without thinking twice, I dove right into my self-made training plan and hit the road. My first "long run" that weekend went surprisingly well - I goofed and thought I was supposed to do 9-10, when I had actually planned 8-9, but did the full 10 and finished feeling strong. It was an out-and-back on the marathon course, providing some tough hills in the summer heat. I was also tricked by Mother Nature that day, who gave me clouds and cool when I left the house, but threw sunshine and scorching heat at me by mile 5. But I survived and was pretty jazzed about it. Motivation was officially back.

Actual training: Week 2 -- "Famous Las Words"

The last weekend in August had me in Hewitt, NJ, for Noah's sister's wedding. It was a three-day party with LOADS of food and plenty of alcohol, but I managed to stick with my training for the most part. Saturday I was feeling antsy for a workout, but a looming tropical storm made for pea soup fog and thick air. Nonetheless, I laced up the shoes and did 3 token miles just to stretch the legs. The roads up there are winding and scary for runners, and for a fleeting moment I was waiting for Jason to pop out of the trees with a chainsaw or ice pick, but the run proved itself uneventful and comfortable. Sunday, the day after the wedding, I passed on working out in favor of beer, ribs and time on the lake, but Monday was a new day. Noah and I found ourselves in Nyack, NY, where we drove to a local state park to get in a long run along the Hudson. He was scheduled for 13 miles and I was scheduled for 10-11, so we decided to play the exact distance we each ran by ear.

On the drive over, Noah told me what a pretty run it should be, how he used to go there often when he was younger and how we won't get any hill training in (even though we both had planned on it), but that the paths are nice. This is the "famous last words" part. Yes, the first mile and a half or so was neatly kept, wide, gravely and flat. Then the path ended. And we ran the next 9.5 miles along a hilly trail. And I thought I might die. And I cursed and complained a lot. And by that I mean a LOT.

He was right in one respect, though - it WAS pretty and it WAS fun. It just was really hard. In the end, I did the full 11 I had set out to do, and Noah decided 11 was fine with him too. And please note, dear reader, that when we had about 20 yards to go, I got so excited that I sprinted to the finish and left him in my dust. And he swears I didn't let him win.

It seems I'm back in the saddle, so to speak, and well on my way to a good BAA Half.