Marathon Memories

Got caught up doing stuff around the house on Wednesday night and didn’t go to bed early enough, which resulted in my not getting my sorry bottom out of bed for my easy 8-miler this morning. I reasoned that I need my beauty/migraine-prevention sleep; besides, the Lamb and the Monkey are both in school on Thursday mornings (I’m sorry, did the entire angelic host just break into the alleluia chorus?), so I figured as long as I went really s-l-o-w and took water along, or went on a watered course, why couldn’t I just run after I dropped the animals off at school?

So, after dropping the Monkey off at preschool, and some cast-offs at our local Goodwill, off I went to our beach road. Thanks to the fact that this is my second year running, I am now a wiser runner than before, and I followed some ground rules of summer running.

1. Wear a visor.
2. Take sunglasses along.
3. Bring an extra shirt.
4. Bring a change of shoes.
5. Bring two towels.
6. Bring a large container of ice water.
7. Bring a hand-held water bottle.
8. Bring flip-flops for after the run.

The hand-held I ended up not using, because the beachfront road has plenty of water fountains. The one rule I did not observe, which is especially paramount in Florida, is

Check the radar before you set out.

Why is this important, you ask? Ah, my dear friend. It’s funny you should ask. You see, I intended to run four miles south and then head back to my car. Not having a GPS strapped to my wrist (yes, I miss him), I had to go by feel, but still, that was the plan. I even forgot my stopwatch, so I was genuinely clueless as to my time and distance, and I genuinely welcomed the freedom. As I started to run south, I noticed the sun wasn’t out. Perfect. It would keep the temperature down.

Then I noticed it was more than overcast up ahead–it was getting downright cloudy. Yep, those were storm clouds. I wondered how far ahead they were, and within a few minutes knew that I would not avoid the rain if I didn’t turn around and head back. But rain itself doesn’t scare me; when you run you get wet anyway. I didn’t see lightning in the clouds, so I forged ahead. Pretty soon the cars headed northbound toward me were wet; next, the wind around me changed in direction, taste, and feel–you know how it gets before a storm. It was fantastic to be running in it, to have the freedom to know I could. Beachgoers and dog companions had to rush home, but I had no immediate need to get out of the weather–it posed no threat to me, and I kept heading into it.

It wasn’t so much that the rain started as that I ran right into it. It was, almost immediately, a hard rain, aimed at me, the kind where the raindrops hurt as they sting your skin. I had to keep my face down, in spite of the visor, to keep the drops from hitting my face. The volume of the water, and the angle of the sidewalk as it is built on a small incline from the road, was such that deep puddles had formed already; the water had actual currents on which small leaves whizzed by. My new Brooks got soaked through on their first run.

I ran on, exhilarated, getting crazy looks from drivers, remembering my run at Gasparilla, how cold and tired and discouraged I’d been, and noticing how different pouring rain feels when it comes upon you at mile 2 instead of mile 22. I didn’t turn around–I lifted my knees a little higher through the really deep puddles, and pushed on, laughing, until I got to my turnaround.

Then I headed for home. Now the wind was at my back, the water not so painful, though still coming in buckets. I heard thunder now, and my pace quickened until I got to my car, exhilarated and exhausted, just over an hour later, and, I discovered later, just short of the 7-mile mark.

It was hard to pretend to get dry from either sweat or rain as it continued to pour, but I did shuck my drenched shirt and shoes before stretching out one of my towels to sit on for the drive home.

Friday, the week’s sole rest day; Saturday, a shorter long run with some beach miles thrown in. I feel good, in the meat of training for the half, as fall advances on me and obligations pile on. This new, six-day running schedule is beginning to fit me better, like that pair of jeans you had to lie down to button on at first but that eventually fits your behind just right.

16

I set out just a few minutes after 5. Though I had Little G’s 305 on my wrist, I intended to stick to my mapped route–five miles in a southern loop, then go north for the rest of the miles.

There was lightning and thunder as I ran south, far away. It took a while to get into my rhythm. I was wearing Little G’s Nathan 5K pack, which I wore in my marathon, and it was refusing to stay put around my non-existent hips. It was a tough couple of first miles.

Eventually, though, I got into my groove, and the miles started to pass more easily. I was supposed to put in some three miles at my most northern point, but watching the sky and ever-flashing lightning made me thankful I had Little G’s Garmie; I decided to bag that portion of the course and head for home to put in the ending miles of the 16-miler closer to my car so I could bail if I needed to.

I didn’t need to. The storm stayed well to our south. Unfortunately, I wasn’t used to Little G’s 305 and it kept losing its signal on me–as I thought, I actually ran 17 miles instead of 16, but all is well. The run went very well, and I’m happy with my pacing and fueling.

Running week summary:
Sunday: easy 4 in 39:52, 9:58 overall,  78°, 91%
Monday: 3 on the treadmill in 29:46, 9:56 overall.
Tuesday: 7¼ miles in 1:04; 8:58 overall–5 mi in 8:32. 77°, 89%.
Wednesday: easy 8¼ in 1:15, 9:10 overall; 75°, 92%.
Thursday: easy 7½ in 1:11, 9:32 overall; 77°, 87%.
Friday: scheduled rest day
Saturday: long 17 in 2:47, 9:51 overall; 75°, 89%.
total mileage: 47 miles in 7:28:50.

Running by Feel

Being Garmie-less has its inherent challenges, not the least of which is not knowing how far I’ve gone on many of my runs. Tuesday’s speedwork was a five-mile tempo run, which I ran by running an easy mile, then clocking a fast middle segment I was pretty sure was about five miles, then running another easy mile home. Thanks to the fact that I run pretty familiar territory most days, I’m mostly sure of my mile markers. The plan called for 8:17 pace for the tempo portion of the run. Not having run speedwork for a few weeks, I knew that pace would be impossible to keep, so I set out to hit 9-minute miles instead. When I got to the end of the 5-mile loop and looked at my stopwatch, I knew the time was short of the 45 minutes, but I can’t do math on the run, so I was home before I knew that my pace for the run was 8:32–not bad, considering.

Ran with Little G Wednesday, so she marked our miles. That evening I sat at the computer and very carefully mapped out a seven-mile course, noting all the mile markers. I played with my ipod and figured out how to mark the splits on its stopwatch. In the morning, I tucked an old playing card with all the mile markers written on the back in permanent marker. In the end I didn’t need to look at it, though–as I passed each one my memory was good enough to remember it, and I clicked the ipod’s center button to mark another split and keep going. My splits were imperfect, as sometimes the mile marker fell on an inexact spot, but at least I had some rough estimate of how my pace was*.

Tomorrow is long run day. The training plan calls for 16 miles, my longest run of the season so far. The plan is not to even mark my splits. I’ll map a course that gives me 16 miles, click my stopwatch as I set out, and click it again when I hit the ending spot. I won’t worry about how my pace is from mile to mile but only about completing the distance. There are excellent reasons for it. It’s the first weekend of September, typically one of the hottest, most humid times of the year in southeastern Florida. So I don’t want to be fast, I want to be well. In addition, I haven’t run anything longer than 12 miles in the last month. I’m not worried about finishing the distance, but I definitely don’t want to be looking at the clock. Little G is unavailable to help pass the distance, so it will be an exercise in endurance and stick-with-it-ness.

*It was highly variable. Some miles may have been marked long and some short. Besides, since I was running with the ipod, I went ahead and listened to music, and nothing throws off my pace more than having music in my ear. Fast-tempo song? I’m at 8:30. Lazy-daisy ballad snuck into the playlist? 10:45. No problem on this run, though. This 7-miler was the end of nine consecutive days of running, a total of 57 miles, and my highest mileage in a long time. I wanted to do it to get back into training mode, but I needed the easy relaxing miles, and a music run was just right.

As for the playing card, it didn’t make it through the run. Even with that laminate they use on them, it just didn’t stand up to the humidity and sweat. It was in wet, torn shambles by the time I got home, and I was disappointed. They don’t make ‘em like they used to.

Get Well Soon, Training Partner

After dying on the run on Saturday, Garmie remained dead all weekend. I called Garmie tech support as soon as I was able on Monday and spoke to Matt. He theorized that perhaps the battery had died because Garmie did not connect to the cradle very well anymore. We tested this theory by tying a ponytail holder to Garmie while he sat in his cradle, connected to my computer.

Garmie thought for a minute, then displayed the message “Battery Charge in Progress.” Excellent! Matt gave me the  part number for the new cradle, and I was in business. I watched his screen like a nervous mother with a child on an iv until the display changed to “Battery Charge Complete.” I then properly unplugged him and waited for my Tuesday morning run.

At which time he promptly refused to turn on.

Tuesday afternoon saw me speaking with Wayne at Tech Support. I explained everything that had elapsed to date. He was very apologetic for my misfortune with their product, and, though Garmie is about 22 months old and well out of the warranty period, he said he’d get him all fixed up for no charge. He got me a work order set up, gave me instructions for mailing him to Olathe, KS, and told me he would need to be away for 10 to 14 days. What I’d get back, he warned me, would probably be a refurbished 205, but, he assured me, “It’ll work.”

Garmie shipped out today, appropriately protected and insured, after being rotundly kissed by his mother/training partner. The postal clerk thought I was a little odd, I’m sure, but that little guy has seen me through much, and I will miss him . . .

. . . but I need someone to pace me on my runs.

Godspeed, Garmie, and get well soon.