Please say it’s not ITBS

I made the mistake of front-loading last week’s mileage, with the goal of being able to take it easy toward Christmas.

Felt funny Monday, not surprisingly so since I was coming off the fast pace of the 10k. But I was determined to get the miles in with the 20-miler on the schedule for Saturday, and to compound the problem, I slept in, so I felt pressured to put them in fast and get home. Result: 8 miles at an 8:56 pace, when I’m really supposed to train at closer to a 10-minute pace. The next day called for a 9-mile tempo run, and I just knew that wasn’t going to happen: the legs were tired, and I was starting to feel some pain in my left hammie. But I did want to get the miles in: that 20-miler loomed in my future.

Got 9 and a half in Tuesday, at least at a more moderate pace. Hammie still bothering me on Wednesday, but got in another 9. Still stacking the miles, you notice. Hammie still bothering me. 20 still looming, so no option of taking Christmas day off unless I want to run the day before the 20, and I don’t. I rise early for quiet time, do presents with the kids, and end up not setting out until 9:30, when the temps are well into the upper 70s. Thank goodness I only need to put in 4.

Take Friday off from running, and take about an hour to find out why my knee and hip are sore. Begin to fear it’s an ITBS injury. All the experts and non-experts agree: if it is, I am not to run on it. However, they also agree that if it is, I will be unable to run on it, so all is good.

I decide to set out on the long run on Saturday and quit the moment the pain sets in.

For the first time ever, I wear a knee brace on the long run. I decide on short loops near the car, just in case. I’m slow this time around–closer to 10-minute miles than ever before on a long run.

But the pain doesn’t come, though for the first time, tedium sets in around mile 16. I finish the 20 in 3:15. I’m disappointed with my time but thrilled that I finished the 20 pain-free.

Ice bath upon arrival at home. Lots more ice for thigh, knee, and hip that day and Sunday. Motrin before bed yesterday.

Maybe it’s ITBS and I just caught it really early?

Appointment with the running orthopedist tomorrow afternoon. I’m not taking a chance halfway through marathon training.

Jupiter Classics by the Sea 10k

Bib number: 109
Overall placement: 103/305 (34%)
Gender placement: 28/141 (20%)
Age Group placement: 3/22 (14%)
Chip time: 49:07

That’s right, I did it!

Warmed up for a mile with Garmie, about another half mile with a slow jog with Gwynne. Had a Gu, went to the potty, pinned my bib on. I was cold walking around before the gun, but the forecast had the temps going up to 70 by race start and sure enough, it was warm by the time we got running.

I’m not sure if I’m becoming a more intelligent racer or just a more strategic one. Right off the bat, coming off that hilly curve that opens this race, which I hated last year but didn’t mind so much this year, I picked out runners to pace off of right away. There were two men with Ironman tattoos on their ankles, as well as some runners I recognized from my Saturday morning long runs, strong runners who were serious about running this with their heads. I locked in on them.

Mile 1 came in at 8:10, just as I’d strategized. Now I knew I’d have to pick up the pace–I needed the next five miles to come in at exactly eight minutes, and shaving off ten seconds can be harder than you’d think. Our first water stop came in here, and I actually slowed to take fluids, not wanting a lack of fluids to hurt me later. But I found my pacers and got back to work, and mile 2 came in at 8:03. No cause to worry yet.

Mile 3 found us finally free of the 5k traffic, since that race had started just before ours and we had finally passed their turnaround point. Now I was behind a young girl (high school age) who runs with a group of men on Saturday mornings. One of them, probably the one who was running the race with her, is probably her dad. I was having a hard time getting past the group of runners they were with–staying behind them meant falling behind pace, but passing them would have meant going too fast for the midpoint in the race. I had to join their pack. I ended up just behind this young runner, and I could tell by her breathing that she was struggling. I passed her just before the turnaround–mile 3 at 8:03.

Passing the turnaround, I saw a woman in my age group who has a child at my kid’s preschool and with whom I’ve been known to have some good-natured competition. She said, “I’m right behind you,” and I knew she wasn’t kidding. Also right next to me were two training partners who’d been running at my pace the entire race. I felt bad overhearing their ongoing conversation for the duration of the race, but we couldn’t shake each other off as we were running pretty much the same pace. But, the turnaround was my green light. Half the race behind me, and a 5k to go–I felt free to pull out all the stops, and I began to pick up the pace ever so slightly.

Mile 4 came in at 7:59.

The best miles were ahead. Now I began to pick up new runners and pick them up one by one. I coasted at an even pace as much as I could, hitching visual rides when I spotted a runner up ahead that I thought I had a chance at. As I approached them, I tried to make a clean pass–just swoop by on the left without any real struggle, without a chance for response. Mile 5 at 7:45, and a cup of water over my head.

Up ahead, a pack of four female runners that were in my age group or the one above. I tucked in behind them for about a quarter mile, hitching a ride, as they were probably running about 7:45 and I didn’t want to give them a chance to hitch a ride with me. Once I passed them, I wanted to leave them behind. When I was ready, I swung left, passed them all at once, and picked out a male runner ahead of them, picking up my pace. Passed the mile 6 marker feeling fast and smooth–pace was 7:25.

Sure, my heart was about to explode, but, as Glover says, I knew, having done the math before, that the misery would be over in about ninety seconds. I lowered the gun and and dialed it in. One downhill stretch, a turn into the park, and in for the finish–breaking fifty minutes for an overall 7:55 pace and third-place age group award.

And 2008 goals met.

10k on my Mind

As well it should be, since race day is tomorrow. I always have a little bit of doubt in my mind the day before the race day, especially on these last two when I know I’ve set fairly high goals for myself. That last 5k, I wanted to bring my PR down from 26:15 to under 24 minutes, bringing my pace down by close to a minute. And I was pretty vocal about it, so there was no such thing as sulking in private if I missed my goal.

For this race, I’ve already told Sarah and the Boss that I’d loooove to come in under 50 minutes. To do that, I’d have to run the 6.2 at 8-minute miles. My last 10k time was 59:15, or 9:33 pace, so I’m looking at shaving 90 seconds off my pace. Now that’s an ambitious goal, especially considering I have done no 10k-specific training.

I think that’s why I’ve been nervous in these short-distance races. I stepped up to the line in the 13.1 Fort Lauderdale knowing that I’d put in the training to run 13 9-minute miles, that I’d done the long runs and tempo runs and mile repeats to perform at the level I needed to for that race. But I don’t have that kind of confidence for these shorter events, which require a different kind of output from your body.

And honestly, the 10k is even more difficult than the 5k. The 5k is over just as your body realizes it’s dying. But the 10k, by the time you realize you hate it, you’re just at the turnaround.

I tried a 10k simulation for my speedwork last week, since the schedule called for a 6-mile tempo run. The goal was to run an 8:20 mile to start, then an 8:10 mile, then pick up the pace from there. Unfortunately, the math in this strategy was fundamentally flawed. I just couldn’t make up the time lost early, and I also couldn’t hit 8 minute miles in the middle miles. Instead, I ran that first mile at 8:31, the second at 8:13, and was even sluggish in the middle–8:08, 8:03, 8:07. I finally picked it up, hitting 7:52 and 7:58, but it was too late, and I crossed the “finish line” in 50:26.

My speedwork this week was similarly discouraging. I was to run mile repeats, 3 of them at 7:40 miles. Just didn’t happen. I ran them at a 7:51 average instead. My feet felt like lead.

Fortunately for me, a PR is assured. I could take this as an easy run and still come in under 59 minutes.

And race day isn’t training day. Adrenaline has fueled some pretty good runs for me, and I’m going to go to the starting line trusting it to come through again. My strategy this time: an 8:15 or 8:10 starting mile, to keep from burning through all my adrenaline early. After that, I’ve got to hit my 8-minute miles or miss my target. I know I can probably run a 7:50 finishing mile; I ran one in training yesterday at the end of an 8-miler.

So, goal A, what I’d be satisfied with: 51, 52 minutes.
Dream goal, 50 minutes or under.

Three-Hour Run

Had my second 18-miler scheduled for Saturday. I wasn’t looking forward to it. In fact, I was dreading it. I even wore my my Nike “Athlete” shirt on Friday just to convince myself I was. See, I loved running 18 last time, but I didn’t love how I felt afterward. I was sore for days, and my runs stank for an entire week afterward–well, until my PR-setting 5k seven days later.

Though I haven’t financially committed to the marathon, I’m pretty determined to finish the training unless I’m hampered by injury. So I tried to peg those things that made that last 18 difficult and set about defining a winning strategy for this week’s run.

First, pacing: keep to 10-minute miles for at least the first six miles. I thought I did that last time, but I was closer to 9:30s. I also went pretty immediately after that into close to 9-minute miles. This time I thought I’d try to keep the middle 6 miles to 9:30s. I figured if I felt well enough to do the last six at 9’s, I could let it fly.

I took gels every six miles last time, and that wasn’t enough, nor did I take enough water. This time, I figured on gels every four miles. It takes me forever to take them–I finish them in about three-quarters of a mile.

I also finished the run with a thin layer of salt on my skin, so I stopped by my running store and asked about a sodium supplement. They suggested I also try a different gel, so I carried eGel, which has a much higher sodium and potassium content.

End result: a much happier run. Sarah kept me company for the first six and we nailed the pacing–first six miles at an average 9:56. I got a potty break and kept at it, and though mile 12 came in a little fast, my overall pace for the middle six miles was still pretty close to strategy: 9:25. And I did feel well enough to pick it up after that, even going sub-nine and picking off runners at the tail end (though I slowed down to talk to another runner in the last mile). My pace for the last third of the run was 9:03.

I had a Gu at mile 4 and the eGel at 8. I planned to take turns with them, but the eGel didn’t seem to sit well and I decided to stick with the Gus for the rest of the run. My stomach might need time to get used to the higher saltiness or something. I did try to take more water breaks.

Got back to the car with 18.7 and knew I couldn’t let it rest; besides, I felt so fresh that I didn’t mind finishing off the 19. I could have done 20, but I wanted to be smart.

Felt good when I got home and even skipped the ice bath. Had a little bit of DOMS on Sunday but nothing bad.

Slow 8 today. Still planning to race the 10k Saturday.

Marathon of the Palm Beaches 5k

A year ago, this was my very first road race. My first goal was to simply finish. My secret goal was to finish in under 30 minutes. I was a complete noob: I didn’t know what to do with my bib. I didn’t warm up. I drank so much water that I had to visit the porta-potties twice pre-race. I took water at both water stations–in a 5k. I went out way too fast, and ended up walking by the 1.5-mile mark, and again at 2.5.

In spite of all this, I finished in a time I never would have considered possible: 26:18, or an 8:28 pace. The field was so weak that it was good for 2nd in my age group, and I have a nice little plate to remind me of it. I was hooked on running, and was training for my first half marathon a few weeks later (which I completed without walking!)

Coming off my new half marathon PR a few weeks ago, I really wanted to do well at this course, fifty-two weeks later. It’s a fast course, and the weather was much cooler than a year ago. No excuses about being a rookie this time around, either–though I don’t live in a great running town, I have a few races under my belt now.

I ran a two warm-up miles, one easy, one with a few striders. I felt comfortable about the distance, but I’d set a high goal for myself: breaking 24 minutes. Every predictor said I could do it–barely. So I knew I would need a really good day.

My strategy: go out with an eight-minute mile and do each mile progressively faster.

Nailed the first mile perfectly. The second mile might have been a little too fast: 7:25. I was passing runners the entire time. A male runner in a red shirt decided not to let me pass. I didn’t mind; it gave me someone to pace off of. I got passed by the leaders just before the turnaround; my time was about 12:50.

I was still picking up the pace. At the second water stop I saw people taking water that hadn’t at stop 1; I remembered that stopping at this point would steal time and not hydrate me anyway and remembered Glover’s advice that it would be mentally uplifting to dump the water over your head instead; decided to try it since at this point I needed the lift–I was really pushing. At some points in mile 3 I was doing sub-7 and really hurting. My “pacer” dropped out at about mile 2.5, saying he couldn’t hold pace anymore.

I think this was the first 5k I really raced painfully, and I liked that feeling of going all out.

Mile 3 came in at 7:05. My chip time was 23:28.

Again, the field was weak, though we had Uta Pippig on hand to speak at the Marathon breakfast, and she raced the 5k “comfortably” in 20:44. In spite of her presence, my time was good enough for a sixth overall female finish and second in my age group again.

And I did it–I broke 24 minutes.

Next Saturday, an 18 miler.
The following week, a 10k, with the goal of getting as close as possible to 50 minutes.

*Oh, and here’s an interesting one. The triathlete kid who sold me my very first pair of “real” running shoes was volunteering at this race–first at water stop 1, then across the street, at water stop 2. As I passed him at that second stop, he said, “I told you those shoes would work for you.” He actually remembered me. Little weird, huh?

First 18

The training schedule called for 15, I think, but mentally I knew I was going out for 16. Started out on the bridge for two passes, which would give me four miles. It was coolish out, but I knew I’d warm up quickly–Saturday was forecast to be one of the warmest days we’d had in weeks. I thought the bridge work would be good: due to the half marathon, I hadn’t done any in a few weeks, so the hill work would strengthen the legs and get a few miles under me, and keep me close enough to the car to allow me to wear my long sleeve during those early miles before I warmed up, and then let me drop it off without having to wear it around my waist like a leaden weight.

It also gave me time to think ahead. I had those 16 on the schedule today–my third at that distance, I was pretty sure. Then a 5k that I intend to race all-out the following weekend (that would be this Saturday), then 18 miles the following week, then a 10k that I also plan to race, then I go straight into 20-milers. The schedule contains four of them, starting Christmas week, scheduled every other week with plateaus and cutbacks in between.

Now this may make no sense to anyone but me, but I thought, for me, it would be easier to scale up to 20 miles on Christmas week if I did two 18 milers instead of just one. So I ran 18 instead of 16. I went south first, and had fuel for the first time at the six-mile mark. I ran those first six at ten-minute pace, so I thought I was on pace to run my first three-hour run, but I must have picked up the pace after that.

I finished just under 2:46. I was out there for three hours including potty and water breaks, though. My average pace did end up being 9:13. I just cannot slow down enough–I was trying to keep it closer to ten-minute miles.

I was sore when I got home and did the ice bath-breakfast-coffee-shower routine. I even drank chocolate milk since I read in Runner’s World that studies show it aids in muscle recovery. However, my eight miler on Monday was slow–9:35 pace–and my intervals today were really painful*.

I’ve felt sluggish all day today. I could get up and run tomorrow; a cold front moved through today and it’s supposed to be in the 40s, so it’s great running weather, but I do wonder if a wise runner wouldn’t listen to her body and stay tucked in for an extra day’s recovery. I want to tell myself that I’m making up excuses but part of me thinks my body is still tired from the tough intervals stacked on top of a midlong eight stacked on top of a very long 18.

The first time at a new distance has always been tough for me. Then the second time it’s easy-peasy.

This is exactly why I wanted to do two 18s. I wanted to have the confidence of one 18 before I had to move it up to 20. I would be so demoralized if I felt this tired after one 18 and knew I had to face 20 the following week.

At any rate, 18 in 2:45. Now, on Saturday, for the next goal: 3.1 in under 24 minutes. Can she do it? Stay tuned!

*Since my PR-busting time at the 13.1 Fort Lauderdale, the prescribed pace for all my workouts has really increased–or decreased–well, sped up. The training schedule called for me to run my intervals at a 7:40 pace today. The first interval was brutal; I was dead tired and the best I could muster was an 8:01, and that was visualizing my 5k race on Saturday. The next two were faster–7:34 and 7:23–but far from easy. Funny thing is, they do average 7:40. It’s a comfort to know that, even dead tired, I can hit my prescribed pace.

I’m still taking tomorrow off.