Lessons from the First Evening Long Run

Our aquatic center has an archaic way of doing things. Because of this, the only way of signing the kids up for their swimming lessons is to show up at the crack of dawn–literally, six a.m.–and wait in line for your turn when they start taking kids at eight o’clock. You show up with your lawn chair and claim your spot in line. Since sessions run for two weeks, we go through this routine every other Saturday.

When we first did this two weeks ago, I shucked the long run. I wasn’t in training, and there was an outside chance I’d be running a race that evening*. But now, here we are. I am in training. And until the pool closes for the winter in October, I can’t afford to lose my long run every other week. Maybe if I was running 18 and 20 milers during marathon training, but not when I’m running 10 to 16 during half training.

So I decided I’d run in the late afternoon.

Now remember, I run in southeastern Florida. This meant I’d be dealing with some serious heat. So I hydrated all day, and then took some extra precautions. I packed an extra gel, ran with music for motivation, and even stashed an extra shirt so I could change halfway through the run–I hear a dry shirt does wonders for flagging motivation.

I also prepared myself ahead of time, just in case–and some runners may disagree that this was the way to go–because I was keenly aware that I might not have the energy to finish the 14 and I didn’t want to push myself beyond the point of reason. So I planned to put in some 9 or 10 in a northern loop, pass my car, then put in 4 in a smaller loop. If things were not going well, if I felt dehydrated or yuck, I could cut the run short and go home.

The first mile was fairly miserable. My pace was good; in fact I had to consciously push to get it closer to 10 minute miles. But it was hot–I could feel the sun beating down on me. As I got close to the end of that first mile I thought I’d stop for a potty break before I got any further–all that hydrating, you know. I stopped and on the way out decided to go ahead and wet my mouth; I wasn’t really thirsty yet but it felt refreshing, and I went ahead and got my Nike dri-fit hat wet too, just for cooling down. As Garmin trilled to let me know I was one mile in, a flock of pelicans went by overhead; I felt a second wind. As I kept running, I kept having to push my pace down, but the miles went by fairly easily. I kept stopping for a swallow of water or so every mile, but I knew the first 10 miles, at least, would be doable. I had my first gel at mile 5; I meant to have it at 4, like I did during marathon training, but there was no water available and I hate doing gels dry. I found myself stupidly surprised when I looked down to see my shirt completely soaked through at mile 7.

At mile 9 I went ahead and had the second gel since water was available; just half a mile later I was at my car, and stopped and left my sunglasses and changed my shirt. I felt well enough, so I set out for my last four miles. The first one of those felt good enough, and I stopped for water at mile 11. Leaving that water stop, though, things went south, and the last three were predictably difficult. I kept telling myself that three miles are such a short run I won’t run anything that short during the week. At the thirteen-mile mark I stopped for water and turned on my blinky light; it was decidedly dusk. I muscled throught that last mile on fumes.

In spite of the difficulty of those last three miles, they were, of course, my only negative splits–the rest of the run, my pace is all over the place as I struggled to maintain an appropriately slow pace for the conditions.

I’m thankful to have pushed to finish this afternoon run, because it will be necessary to do it again, several times during this season. It’s early August, and the worst of the summer is upon us. It’s likely this will be one of the worst of the afternoon runs–early August, and my first one, too; I’ll get accustomed to conditions and better trained to run through them.

And it also reminded me that running is about so much more than your legs. I was alone the entire 2 hours, 15 minutes of this run. I saw three other runners while I was out there, for a total of maybe two minutes. But I ran by myself. I did it because I determined I was going to do it. I picked the time I was going to do it, the best place to do it, and then drove myself out there and gutted it out. Sure, my legs had to run the distance, but my head had to be in there too. I think it’s why almost anyone can be a distance runner, even someone who isn’t physically gifted to run. If you can get your head in the game, you can run–and run far.

Now, recovery was tough. I got home close to 9 and feeling somewhat yuck to my stomach. Though I intended to have eggs and bacon for protein and fat, I couldn’t stomach the sight of food, so I had nothing but water and a Carnation Instant Breakfast. I woke thirsty a few hours later and had my standard watered-down cranberry juice. I thought about trying to run my regular embedded circuit-training Sunday morning run but I was just too tired. I probably would have been anyway, but not eating well after the run was certainly a factor.

So, recovery after these late afternoon runs will have to be improved. Any suggestions highly welcome.

Out of May and into Glorious June

May was my downfall month last year, during my first summer of running. It was tough to get accustomed to the heat and humidity,and I hit a tough patch of running. But by June, I felt like I was mostly back in stride, and by July, I was fully back in training mode, with a sub-2-hour finish in my sights at the 13.1 Ft Lauderdale in November.

Today was my first June run this year. I set out for an 8-miler later than I intended to, around 5:15 or so. I had my ipod and water, both strategies against a flagging resolve, the heat (the metereologist reported it was 75 as I set out), and the humidity–just knowing it was so humid when I ran on Saturday was making it hard to get out.

But, rule #1–getting out the door is sometimes the toughest part of the run. I laced up my new Nike Structures and set out.

Mile 1 was slow–about 11 minute pace–and I stopped at Garmie’s trill to take an ounce or so of water. Though the second mile’s pace was faster, I stopped for water again at the end. But after that, I seemed to work into some kind of pace, and I even wondered if I’m done carrying water. Granted, I’ll probably still plan my routes to hit water at the halfway point, but I think I can finally stop carrying that little 10-oz Sprint water bottle. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good tool for those first summer weeks, but I’m tired of passing it from one hand to the other, and I’ll be glad to leave it at home if I can.

I did develop one problem during the run, which presented itself for the first time at about mile 4: I tried new arch supports, which I removed the sockliner to insert, and this made an inner seam in the shoe rub against my arch. Ouch! The result: two new sore spots that would be blisters if I ran in those shoes again tomorrow, or maybe even the next day. It’s one reason I recommend to new runners that they do rotate two pairs of shoes, and even two models of shoes if they can swing it. The next time I wear the Structures, not only will the sockliner go back in, but I’ll go back to my tried-and-true over-the-counter Dr. Scholl’s arch supports. If it ain’t broke . . .

In the end I was a little sore today, but I rubbed on some Icy Hot on the right leg before I set out, both calf and hamstring, and managed the 8½ in entirely running steps,  stopping for water at the end of miles 1, 2, and 5 (when I stopped to see if I could relieve the pressure on the arches). I’ve got 6 on the schedule tomorrow and I may try to do them without water, stopping at the water fountains at 3 or so.

Happy running.

First Short Run after a Tough Long Run

After a sprintime drought that left our canals and lakes dry and thirsty, South Florida seems to have settled into its mostly predictable summer weather pattern. It’s raining most afternoons now, and sometimes these storms linger into the overnight hours. Though I check the radar every morning before I set out, it’s becoming even more important now. Case in point: I heard thunder and rain in the wee morning hours of Saturday, so as I was making peanut butter toast and getting ready for my run, I turned on the only channel that does early Saturday morning news and waited for the weather report. The meteorologist reported that showers were in the area, moving gradually toward the coast.

I generally run my long runs on the beachfront road, since it has water fountains every half-mile or so. I waited about fifteen minutes, and the radar picture seemed to be improving. I started driving east, but the sky still looked ominous, so I decided to put in my miles closer to home so I could bail on the run if I needed to. Though I generally don’t shy away from wet-weather running, I’m not in training, and it’s no sense being masochistic about running when you don’t have to be.

I parked next to the coldest water fountain in our neighborhood, where I have a great three-mile loop mapped out, and set out. It was a little after six. Thanks to my twingy right hamstring/knee/calf, the first couple of miles went slowly–I also stopped several times in the first half mile to take off my right shoe, convinced I had a pebble caught somewhere between shoe, sock, and sockliner.

Stopped for water after the first three-mile loop and set out again for the second lap, this time running closer to 10:30 miles instead of 11-minuters. I was feeling easier, though running the same territory was getting boring and making me feel like screaming, and I was planning to do 12 miles, or four times around this loop. I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

By mile 6, second water stop, the clouds were moving east, the sun was starting to get stronger, and I downed a Hammer gel to power me through the second half. I knew repeating the same course twice more was insanity, and that if I ran it once more I would quit at nine miles. I made the decision to add some miles at the mid-point to try to make it to ten or eleven.

By mile seven, I’d found the flaw in my plan–I’d need water long before ten miles, never mind eleven. I made a quick detour for water (warm, but wet!) and then headed back. I found myself back at the cold water fountains at mile 10. I stopped and had a long dialogue with myself–maybe other runners can relate?

I’m really tired. Really hot. Really thirsty. I’m not in training, and 10 miles has got to be good enough. I’ve been out on the road for over 90 minutes, and I’ve run well–three miles at 11-minute pace, three at 10:30, two at 10:15, two at 10-minute pace. Really. All this as temperatures kept climbing, in unrelenting humidity.* On the other hand, I really wanted to do 12 miles today. I’m only 2 miles away from that–that’s one mile out, one mile back. Done in 20 minutes.

Yes, I’m that stubborn. I set out for one more mile–longest mile of my life, at least in training–and came back, to finish 12. I was very thirsty, and very very hot.

I told the Boss when I got home that those 12 miles felt as long as any 20 I ever finished while in marathon training. The heat, the humidity, I don’t know what else–I was spent.

By the end of the day it took a great deal of effort to remain standing to make the kids’ dinner and give them baths–my muscles were drained of energy. It was with trepidation, therefore, that I set my alarm to get up on Sunday for a short run. But I remembered that when I set about to realign my schedule with Mondays as a rest day, considering my busy schedule on Sundays, all along my concern was could I do a short easy run after an 18- or 20-miler? I thought, this is my chance to find out. I just specifically said, those 12 felt as tough as a 20. Let’s find out if I can do this.

So I set out. I would settle for nothing less than 4, would have been ecstatic with 6, but ended up with 5. 10:30 pace. What did I learn? That it can be done. I wasn’t in pain; though starting was tough, eventually I got into a rhythm, and I got the miles in. And let me tell you, after the 12 horrendous miles the day before, those 5 weren’t nuthin’. I ran ‘em listening to Fdip, and Steve Runner kept me entertained the whole time.

Got home, had breakfast, got cleaned up, and went to church. Celebrated our confirmands and graduates. Cried some. Laughed some.

Learned that I’m a better runner, and a more stubborn one, than I had feared.

Run along, people.

*Historical weather data collected from the closest station and reported through WeatherUnderground reports that, during the hours of my run, temperatures climbed steadily from around 75 to 78 degrees, while the humidity remained fairly constant–at around 100%. Now, I find that interesting. If the humidity were 100%, wouldn’t it be raining? It wasn’t, though. Just unbelievably, soupily, dehydratingly, undescribably muggy. Florida. Gotta love it. Seriously starting to consider a 4-bottle fuel belt again.

Warming Trend

. . . and just like that, summer is here.

I always check the temperature before I set out, and take a look at the radar, because I live in the Sunshine State, which was named by some session of Congress that had a particularly intense sense of humor, and if I’m going to be met by a streak of rain on the run, well, I want to know about it.

So yes, I knew that temperatures were rising, as I expected. Having lived in Florida since 1996, I wasn’t unprepared for this–I knew that temperatures would begin their yearly climb starting in the third month of the year. In fact, this was one of my concerns about training for a spring marathon. While training for a fall event, you do your training in the hot months, then run your race in cooler conditions. But training for a spring event here in the south, you end up with the reverse situation: you train in great conditions–cool, dry weather–then often end up racing in hot, humid ones.

But we were spared this year. Cold front after cold front rolled through (sometimes, yes, on the day of a race, but that’s a story that’s already been told), keeping us on an unnatural wave of natural air-conditioning longer than we’ve been used to.

Then, this week, it hit. It was 75 as I set out on Monday. Got a brief respite Tuesday and Wednesday–71 each time. Today I not only got a look at the temperature–71 again–at 5 am, mind you–but I sneaked a look at the humidity, as well. Now, I know it’s more humid in the morning, so maybe I deserve it for training with the dawn patrol, but it the ambient humidity this morning hovered at 86% as I was doing my run. While the recorded temperature hovered between 71.6 and 70.6 (dropping quickly from a high of 76 at midnight!), the dew point was right at 67 degrees–close to the point which most people find uncomfortable just for walking around, never mind running a quick six-miler.

Last year, this exact week, I hit a patch where I couldn’t run. Between a pair of old shoes and the heat hitting me–it was my first summer on the roads–I couldn’t adjust my pace and hydration enough, and I hit some sort of wall where I could only run 3 miles at a time for a stretch. I’m determined to do better this year, and carrying water is part of my strategy. Ignoring my pace and running by feel is another.

So, on those counts–today I ran with water, and I drank more than I thought I would–10 oz. bottle was dry by the 5-mile mark. And I ran by feel–as soon as I started I thought I’d like to run a little faster today, and I did–instead of my 9:45-10:00 easy run pace, I ran today at 9:07 average. Still plan a long-er run on Saturday, something between 10 and 13.

Not Feelin’ the Long Run

Meh.

Started ramping up badly since last night–went to see a performance of The Princess and the Pea at the middle school my mother-in-law works at with her and the Lamb. It was done beautifully, but due to the time and the distance I didn’t get to bed till way too late, and then our lovely town decided to call at 3:30am to ask about someone we don’t know*. It was a little hard to get back to sleep after that, and when the alarm went off about an hour later I thought about staying in bed.

But I know how I like the long run, so I got up–slowly–and made peanut butter toast, and drove out to the beachfront road, where other like-minded folk were gathering for their Saturday runs. I pointed Garmie at the sky and . . . he flashed his “low battery” sign at me weakly before gasping dead.

So, now I’m running completely blind. I checked the time–5:55–and set out for two miles on the bridge over the intracoastal. I mused over what to do. The original plan called for 14 miles. Not having Garmie to mark my miles, I mapped out what I was fairly sure was a 14-mile course and settled on that.

But . . . it was windy today, and warm–72 as I set out. As I turned off the bridge and headed north, I was already reconsidering the 14. I’m not in training. How ’bout just 10?

So I decided to shave off the southern loop of my route, which was 4 miles, and make it a solid 10. That’s still 32 miles on the week, and though it’s not really a great long run, it still keeps me on the road for about two hours–I figured.

I had to run by feel, but that’s probably a good thing every once in a while. When I got back to the car I checked the clock, and I’d run the 10 in about 1:55. Well, when I mapped the course on RunningAHEAD when I got back, it turned out to be 11 miles. Good enough.

This time, I took an Accel gel at my northernmost turnaround, which, accounting for the bridge miles, was about the 8-mile mark. Felt much better fueled.

Meh.

*Seriously. The Boss and I have lived in this small house since 2001. We’ve never changed our number. Neither of us have ever been married to anyone else. Even if someone gives you this number when you arrest him/pull him over/find him in the club past his curfew, could you check the number once before you call at 3:30 in the morning? I thought my father was dead.

Sorry, rant over.

more than you wanted to know

Set out for the 23 miles at 5am. I wasn’t sure I should; the Boss had arrived home from the office only about two and a half hours earlier, and had only been sleeping for about two hours. I was hesitant, to say the least, about leaving him home alone with two active preschoolers who, I knew, would have him up before seven, demanding breakfast (or, as the Lamb says, “breafkast”) and playtime.

In spite of his late arrival, he insisted upon sending me out. It’s my last long run, says he as we change Monkey’s sheets around 2:45 (yes, he chose this night of all nights to wet the bed)–thank goodness we were both wide awake! Jokingly, he chided me, “I want no excuses for you not to get your 4:30 at Gasparilla.”

Well, I don’t know about that 4:30, and it was tough to get up when that alarm chirped at me cheerfully at 3:15, but after one snooze, I got my patootie out of bed and got dressed. I made peanut butter toast, glided down, and headed out.

It was breezy and cold, as we Floridians define cold. A few other runners were gathering and beginning to set out–I’m guessing other marathoners training for late winter marathons who also had 20-milers on the schedule. Who else would start at 5? Most of us wore shorts, long sleeves, and hats; we knew the cool temps would be history in a few miles and Florida’s sunshine would be out in full force within a couple of hours. I walked to the end of the long block and started into a slow jog, turning south along the water, shielded by the winds by a line of tall condos.

Before Garmie’s trill at mile 1, I saw the approach of my favorite blinking safety light–Natalie, heading north toward me. I turned to join her. Her schedule that day: to run by time, not mileage: one hour north, one hour south. In the end, we were together for about my first 10 miles, which we finished in about 1:42.

We parted ways; I turned back north and started planning the rest of my run. I knew I’d be back close to my car at mile 12 or so, and I planned to finish the remaining 11 miles in a figure 8 pattern. Having decided that, I freed my mind to concentrate on fueling, form, and pacing.

Occasionally during the run Saturday, the three outer toes on my left foot hurt. It was like I was smashing them onto the pavement. Now I’ve felt that with my toenails before, and lost a couple of them. My podiatrist told me it’s a function of my flat arches; the foot seeks support by grasping the ground with the toes, resulting in an almost hammering motion. But I hadn’t felt it with the entire length of the toe before. Fortunately for me, I’d read my March issue of Runner’s World, including the article on running injury-free. In that article, the author describes a technique for insuring a mid-foot strike. He advises runners to visualize a cord running from their right heel (in my case it would be the left) over their shoulder, into their thumb. This visualization helps your footstrike become more natural, less heavy.

Believe it or not, though the focus of this visualization is not to take pressure off your toes, it helped tremendously. For the duration of the run, any time I felt my toes begin to seize up and hurt, I would concentrate on the feeling of that cord pulling up my heel. I might not have finished the run otherwise.

The other issue was an unexpected one: my body didn’t like the Accel Gel this time. I took one at mile 4 and one at mile 8, and by mile 10 I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I chose a Gu the mile 12 mark, though I returned to the Accel at mile 16. By mile 20 I only gulped down half of another gel–I don’t even remember which brand it was–because I couldn’t stomach the thought of the entire thing. During the first half of the run I took water only with the gels–that is, every four miles. After that 12 mile mark, though, I took fluid every 2 miles, at least a few gulps. I took water at the gel stops and half-water, half-Gatorade at the other stops if it was available (our running store usually puts it out).

I discovered that, late in the run, I had hiccups for a few minutes after every water stop. Bizarre.

I stopped to drink, and twice for a potty break–once at about mile 12 and once at about mile 16. Since I didn’t have a straight run, I had to turn at miles 1, 7, 15½, and 21½. At that last turn, I put my hands on my knees and gathered my strength for a second before heading home.

But other than that, I completed the near-four hour run in entirely running steps.

Who’d'a thunk it?

Another 20 in the books

I’m thankful to have had the good 6 in on Thursday before setting out on another 20 on Saturday. Coming off another not-great week of training, it would have been difficult mentally to set out into the darkness facing down 20 miles. I would have done it, but it would have been tough.

Instead, God gracefully gave me one good run just before, and that gave me jsut enough confidence to set me out on the road early Saturday knowing that even if it wasn’t my best run, I’d get the miles in.

Set out a few minutes after 5, heading south on A1A. I figured I’d put in about 5 before running into my friend Natalie. We hadn’t scheduled a run together but she usually starts her runs a few minutes before 6, and I was hoping she’d be around for company for at least a few miles. Instead, I was surprised to see her coming toward me before I’d even put in one mile. It turns out she was going somewhere later that morning and had decided to put in her 12-miler early that day. Wonderful that I didn’t miss her!

She told me, as she had last week, that she’s slower since she ran her half Ironman, and has been running around 10-minute miles. I told her that was no trouble; on a 20-miler, I’d rather be consistent than fast. We went south for a couple miles, then turned north until she hit 7 on her Garmin; then we headed back, and I dropped her off when she finished her 12 miles.

Our average pace for those 11 miles was 10:25. Natalie did seem to tire as we ran, but her mileage is just now beginning to lengthen again following her Ironman. After dropping her off, I headed back toward the north; I figured I could go north another five miles, then come back toward my car. My pace picked up nicely after that and I ran mostly negative splits. At mile 16 I stopped for fuel* and to “plug in” my ipod.

And this is where I got my best lesson of the day. I was feeling really fresh. The tunes were rocking. I was letting loose a little on the music, waving my arms a little and bouncing my head.

Two things I noticed.

One, and I’m not sure if this is related or not, my back hurt a lot more after this 20 than the last one. Is it because I didn’t keep my form tight? I just find it interesting that it is the very first time my back has ever bothered me after running. Of course, it’s also only the second time I’ve run 20, so maybe I was just due.

Two, no matter how fresh you feel at 16, your energy reserves are much lower and get drained much quicker than you would think. Though miles 17-20 were by far my fastest (9:02, 8:28, 8:23), I could absolutely tell that my body was running low on energy. And I knew that it was because I hadn’t run conservatively, either in speed or form. I’d felt so good at 16, knowing I had 4 to go, that I’d felt free to let my speed fly. Like I said, I finished the 20, and my speed was there, even in the last mile, but it was instructive how much my body could feel the energy leaving . . . quickly.

This is why we run 20s, isn’t it? I’d rather know this now than in the marathon. Now I know, it doesn’t matter how good I feel, even at mile 20 of my marathon; the toughest miles, the toughest part of pacing, is yet ahead. Energy that may last me for eight miles at the beginning of a run may only count for one at the end of a marathon. And everything counts. A wave, a head bop, a crazy dance move, a side step. Everything consumes energy. And energy, on a distance run, is a precious commodity.

Hey, lesson learned. Glad I scheduled four of these things . . . I think.

*Not for the first time . . . obviously, right? I took a Gu at mile 4, an Accel Gel at mile 8, another Gu at mile 12, and an Accel Gel at 16. Though initially the Accel tasted like fudge with salt, on second tasting I actually liked it better than the Gu, and I may try them exclusively on the next really long run.

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.

Race Autopsy

We used to do this in school, dissecting a lesson or unit we’d prepared, to talk about what had gone well and what hadn’t and get ready for the next step. I figured I’d do this now since I might not be taking too long before beginning training for the next race–either a 5k/10k training cycle or a 26.2 race.

What went well in this training cycle?
I trained with a specific goal in mind and I stuck to the plan. In this specific case, ambition worked to my advantage–though I aimed to go sub-2, I didn’t know how far under it I could go, so on speedwork days I did push past the stated pace. But on easy days I didn’t push the distance.

How was this training different from training for my first half?
I put in a lot, I repeat, a lot, more miles this time around. My highest training week before my first half was 29 miles, my highest mileage month was 118 months, and my longest run was one 14 miler. This time around, my highest training week was was 48 miles, my highest mileage month was 168 miles, and I ran two 15-milers and two 16-milers. My taper was shorter, too. Last time I ran no speedwork. This time I ran speedwork every week. Last time I trained for my half in about ten weeks; this time around I’ve considered myself in serious training for this specific race since July, and I was training to improve my short-distance times since March. So yeah, basically I never stopped training after my first half.

What will I do again?
I think I’ll keep taking turns on speed days between the intervals and tempo runs. I used to hate intervals, and I don’t anymore, maybe because, since I’ve considered myself in long-distance training, I’ve given myself permission to do only very long intervals–that is, mile repeats with quarter-mile recoveries. I do push the pace on those, and I run them progressively, so that I run the last one at what I would consider breakneck pace. I don’t generally have to walk my recoveries, though.

What did I do wrong?

• Ah, let me count the ways! Well, first of all, I missed a week of training three weeks out. But that was largely unavoidable–overseas air travel is expensive and we had to get the tickets when we could, and nothing could have predicted that I would not get even one run in while we were away. Besides, I’m not an Olympian, and I was only chasing a PR, not Kara Goucher. Rule #6: Running is supposed to be part my life, not my whole life. It just wasn’t worth making our trip miserable to fit my running in. So the shoes got to go on a nice little overseas trip. In the end, I jumped back into the schedule when I got back. It may have cost me a long run, but life is like that.
• I didn’t practice with Gu at race pace. That was inexcusable, especially having had the experience that I couldn’t take Sport Beans on the run. I knew the Gu didn’t bother my stomach, but I should’ve taken the opportunity to find out if I could swallow it while running at 9-minute pace. Instead, I stopped to take it on my long runs. And I did do a few miles at race pace on my last pre-race long run, so like I said, inexcusable. I didn’t realize my mistake until mile 10 of my last long run, eight days out from the race. By then there was nothing to be done. But it was a stupid oversight.

What new discoveries did I make about gear/tools/tricks?

• Well, that Gu isn’t as revolting as previously imagined. Which is funny, because I’m not rushing out to buy it in flavors other than Chocolate Outrage, and though friends have recommended Accelerade and Hammer gel, I still have my reservations about those products, which I know rationally are just like Gu. But, there you go. Whether the impact was physiological or not, I credit a few minutes of my race time to the two well-timed packets of Chocolate Outrage Gu.
• That hydrating well, especially as summer begins in these southern climes, is important. Later on, as your body gets accustomed to the insane weather conditions, it gets easier to complete a one-hour run without stopping for water, but initially, at least, it’s important not to. Training through the summer here can be downright dangerous.
• I discovered long ago that BodyGlide between the legs is a wonderful thing. I never had an arm issue. But, lately, I did start developing blisters. I started freaking out because on my last half this happened at the tail end of my race. I was worried about starting the race with blisters. Wearing a bandaid that might slip around inside my shoe seemed like a less than ideal solution. BodyGlide to the rescue! Yes, I now BodyGlide my feet before every run.
• That IcyHot before a run can be important for people with chronically tight calves.
• That running that bridge gave me some muscled legs! You should see some of my pictures. Yikes!
• That some seriously beautiful women run. At first, I was insecure about my lack of speed. But looking around in Ft Lauderdale, I started wondering if I was pretty enough to be running around out there. Gorgeous women on A1A. Remarkable. At least one in full makeup. Really.
• Dark colored running shirts are good. Or, if you like the white tempo top (hey, mine is white), then a dark colored running bra. Please, don’t make me tell you why. I really want to know how pretty you are. What, you think you don’t sweat?

What’s next?
Well, hopefully, PR’s in the 5 and 10k. I’ve never been one to set high goals, mostly because I hate disappointing myself. Well, maybe I should be honest and say that I don’t state high goals. I set high goals for myself but I don’t say them out loud; then I disappoint no one but myself.

My current 5k PR is 26:15. I would love to go sub-24.
My current 10k PR is 59:15. I could be very conservative with this one because it’s such a bad number, but I really want to go sub-54.

PRs in the shorter distances are hopefully not far off, now that I know I could run 8-minute miles in the 5k and 8:30 or better in the 10k. But to shave off even more time in 2009, I think I’ll have to improve my diet. I seriously do not watch what I eat, mostly because I don’t have to anymore. After I lost all that weight, I’ve been blessed to keep it off just by running. I recently cut out most dairy from my diet to see if it improved my digestion and lost another five pounds, so weight is not an issue. But I eat more junk than I should.

I also ought to cross train more. Better abs might mean I could run in just a running bra–a definite training advantage in July–and they would improve my running form. And my flexibility is a weakness, so I should explore yoga more.

I like the 13.1 distance, so I’d like to run another half in ‘09, though I’m not as anxious to break another barrier this time.

And, of course, I want to finish a marathon. That’s it for that one. No time goal.

1:50:36

That was my net time at the 13.1 Fort Lauderdale.

We left town at around 5:30 and stopped on the way south to use a gift certificate at Olive Garden. Though I intended to eat a tomato-based saucey pasta, I figured I was only running 13 and a cheese sauce couldn’t hurt me too much, so I succumbed to the fantastic Steak Gorgonzola. And I’d do it again. It was fabulous. We shared a chocolate gelatto for dessert. I made sure to stay a comfortable full.

Checked into the Avalon Waterfront Inns, where the Boss and I were informed that because they were full, we were being given “the penthouse”–their rather generous name for an unused apartment that functions as a large suite. It would easily have slept eight. The king size bed in the larger room was very comfortable and I turned in at around 8:30. Boss stayed up watching a little football until he, too, turned out the lights, only to be intermittently awoken by party sounds–I thought it was clubbers returning from parties but it turned out to be a party at one of the adjoining buildings. It didn’t bother me too much–I drifted in and out of sleep and felt like I got as solid a night’s sleep as you can before race day.

Rose at 4. News reported it to be 70 degrees and I was bummed–figured the incoming cool front had stalled. Donned race gear. Fueled up. Glided down. Left the hotel around 4:30 to discover the front had not stalled–it was not 70 but freezing! Windy, too. We arrived at the designated parking at the start line about 4:40. Stayed in the car until about 5:15, about an hour before the start. Had time to visit the porta-potties twice, wearing my long-sleeve tech tee and the Boss’s fleece over that, too. It was seriously cold, and the wind was whipping so seriously that I thought about ditching the hat. Finally I lost the fleece, and then the long-sleeve tech for a short warm-up. Knew I’d warm up very quickly running, and that with the sun coming up at 6:30, just minutes after the gun, I’d probably appreciate the visor. Decided to keep it.

Before I knew it, it was time to get in the chute. Kissed my beloved, lined up with the nine-minute milers. After the anthem, we were off!

Boy, was it crowded. Those first few miles especially were rough–I had to keep getting outside the traffic cones just to pass, which I felt like I had to do a lot to get into my rhythm. I was afraid I’d get way off pace and end up with an over-ten minute mile, but came in at 8:59. Just as mile two was ending (8:23) we came upon a tunnel. I love uphills and downhills, and doing the downhill first was a nice change of pace–letting gravity do the work for me first, then surging ahead on the uphill, right into a beautiful curve that tossed us into Broward Boulevard. I loved it. I felt like I was cruising, though at this point I was a little bit concerned about my pace–mile 3 came in at 8:43 and I thought that was a little fast for so early in the race.

Mile 4, over the bridge at Las Olas–this time the uphill first, but I didn’t mind–came in at 8:35. Again, crowded! But coming up on A1A was my favorite part of this course, which was so similar to my first half marathon. Here, the spectators are out cheering, and you’re out of the city and onto the beach, and you know you’ve just got to cruise for a few miles north and then boomerang south. It was windy on A1A, though–mile 5 at 8:37.

At mile 6 I had my first Gu, chased by water–8:32. Mile 7 came in at 8:38, and other than mile 1 , that was my slowest mile. True to form, I would begin to pick it up after that, in spite of having gone out faster than intended. It was right around mile 7 that I was passed by the elites on their return trip. I caught up around here with some triathletes and tried to stay close to them, allowing their conversation to distract me and their footfalls to pace me. Thanks to them, mile 8 was a speedy 8:22.

Turnaround was close to mile 9. I couldn’t believe how my pace was picking up, because consciously I knew I’d gone out too fast. But checking in with my body revealed no soreness–no tightening knees or calves, no sore toes; I felt great–strong and beautiful.

Mile 9 came in at 8:28–another benchmark mile, since I would pick it up again after this. In my original stated strategy I said I intended to pick it up at the mile 10 marker, yet in my simulation race I didn’t have anything left at that point. Not today–I had plenty left in the tank. Mile 10 came in at 8:16. Took my second Gu out of my pocket at mile 10.5 to warm it, and started sucking it down at about mile 11. Took my time with it, even as I cruised to an 8:04 mile. One of my triathletes came up from behind me at this point. I remembered that to hold your pace at this point means not to stay with people around you, who frequently are slowing down and therefore present an illusion, but to pass people. The triathlete was passing people. I decided to stay as close behind him as I could. Mile 12, 7:56. I washed my Gu down with water at the 12-mile mark water station, put my head down, and thought–this is it–longest mile ahead of you.

Now, I’ve never run sub-8 at the tail end of a long run, especially a long run run at race pace. But I was darned if I was going to lose it now. Looking at the clocks at every mile marker, doing the math, I knew I was going to be sub-2, but I was determined to be as far under it as I could. I kept that triathlete in my sights. The distance between us got shorter. I picked a woman between us. Tried to go to her left and got hemmed in. Swung to her right, passed her. I noticed her surging, staying on my shoulder for a minute, but she couldn’t hold pace and eventually dropped back. Picked the triathlete himself next–surged ahead of him and passed him easily. As we were coming into the finish line, surrounded by people cheering, I saw the Boss. He seemed surprised to see me–I knew I was way earlier than we’d thought–he’d predicted 1:52, I’d predicted 1:55–but he snapped a picture as I ran by. I like how in his picture the other runners look tired and I look like I’m having a ball. Hey, it’s my picture, so I get to interpret it.

The clock read 1:52, I thought as I ran in–mile 13 came in at 7:43.

The medal is ugly, though I did score my first space blanket. Who am I kidding? All that matters is that I scored my sub-two. All that training, all those early-morning eight milers, all those tempo runs in the July and August heat.

Average pace, 8:27.
15th of 117 women in my age group.
77th of 720 women.
319th of 1382 overall.