Seasonal

My favorite season is autumn, and one of the things I miss most about Virginia is the beautiful fall days with brilliant, fiery colors and cool air that just verges on actually being cold. Those are the days that made trail running even more enjoyable. I can close my eyes and see the reds, yellows, oranges, browns, greens, and blues of the trees, underbrush, and sky all around me. I can smell the sweet musty aroma of the fallen leaves, and I can hear the crackle, crunch, rustle of my feet treading through those leaves covering the trail.

Sigh.

It’s not quite the same in Mississippi.

But this past Sunday was almost in that league.

Fall comes later to the Deep South, and, because most trees down here are not deciduous, the colors are not quite as varied and all encompassing. However, the dark green of the magnolia mixing with the peeling silvery bark and rusty yellow leaves of the river birch is darn pretty in its own right.

Sunday morning, the sky was a bright, cloudless blue—finally completely clear of the summer’s hazy heat and humidity. When I started my run, it was 50ish degrees out, warming up to the low 60s. I headed from the Yacht Club down along the reservoir. The wind was calm; the water reflected the blue of the sky, despite all the recent rain (which would normally turn it a muddy brown).

Then, I hit the multi-use trail and was surrounded by green and gold with a slanting sunlight that highlighted the spider webs hanging delicately in the trees. I took a deep breath. It smelled clean, slightly damp, with a hint of spice.

This is nice, I thought to myself.

Two hours and thirty minutes later and 15 miles done, it was all good. I smiled to myself the rest of the day.
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On Saturday, the local bike shop and the local running store hosted a sprint duathlon. I had talked Hubby into doing it as a relay team. So, he was riding the 22k, and I was running the first leg 5k and the final leg 1 mile.

Hubby always has the best of intentions when it comes to riding his bike. Unfortunately, intentions do not always translate into actualities. I think he managed to ride three times before the race. Twice by himself (with one ride of 15 minutes…not sure that counts), and once with me and a couple of friends.

(Side note, if you tell Hubby that a ride is going to be 12 miles, it best be 12 miles. You will get an earful and a bit of grumpiness once that odometer clicks over to 12.1 miles. I am not kidding or exaggerating.)

I held off on registering for the race as long as I could just to give him the opportunity to bail. Nope, he told me. “I’m going to do it. It might not be fast, but I will race.”

As they say down here, “God bless his pea-pickin’ little heart.”

So, there we were on Saturday morning, surrounded by friends, getting transition all set for the race. A bit after 8 a.m., I line up with the runners, someone says “go,” and we’re off. Uphill. (Whose brilliant idea was that?) I wanted to run that first leg in the 26-minute range, but ended up crossing into T1 in 27:04. Actually, that’s my best 5k time for the year, so I can’t complain.

We made quick work of the relay hand off, and Hubby headed out for a 13+ mile ride through the rolling, “country” roads of Ridgeland. I had no idea what to expect for time. I figured he could be back at transition anywhere from 45 minutes to 1 hour.

Unfortunately, I was so worried about missing him, that I ended up standing around too much and was not really ready to run again when he came rolling in right around 50 minutes. (I did, however, have time to walk to our car, get my new Garmin, play with it, and sip my coffee.)

Another quick transition, and I was off for the last mile. I felt like I was running fast. Not so much—I crossed the finish line in 9 minutes. What’s up with that?

Our total time was 1:28 and change, which put us in fourth place with all the relays. So, not bad given that they did not break the relay teams out (usually, relay teams are broken out by all male, all female, and mixed).

Plus. It was fun to do a race with Hubby. And he said he would do it again.
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Vacation starts in 3 more days. Can’t. Wait.
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I am older than Monday Night Football. Very depressing.
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I just got a new Garmin. I finally broke down and purchased a full-on GPS fancy, shmanzy, way more information than I really want to know “training device.” I am a cheapskate, so I went for the very functional, but relatively inexpensive Forerunner 301.


I love it.

I used it for my Sunday run, and it worked perfectly. I was so worried it would short-change me on distance because of the tree cover on the trail, but it clicked over the miles (marked on the trail) exactly.

Another reason I went with the 301 was the shape. The Forerunner 305 and 310xt are just too bulky for my unnaturally small wrists (you know those jelly bands? the kid sizes? still too big for me). But, because the 301 is “sideways” and the band is totally-adjustable Velcro, it is slim enough and comfortable enough to make me happy and not feel too geeked out with a computer on my arm.

The only thing that is disconcerting is not having the watch function for the time of day. I completely lost track of time on my run on Sunday. I forgot what time I started, so even though I knew how long I had been out, I didn’t know how late it was until I got back in my car to go home.

Oh well. Small price to pay for such a fun toy.
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The achy, breaky foot behaved for both the race and my long run this weekend. Phew. I am shuffling my workouts around this week, though, so I can take a few days off from running. Maybe that will help the mending process.
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Good luck to all our friends heading to Wilmington, North Carolina, for the Beach to Battleship Iron and Half Iron races and to Panama City Beach, Florida, for Ironman Florida (where we’ll be) this weekend!

Race like you stole it!

Stoopid foot!

As I've hinted at in previous posts, I have been battling a mild case of plantar fascitiis. So far, it's been workable. Some days, I'm more sore than other days. In fact, some days, it doesn't hurt at all. But, last night, I'm afraid I crossed over to the "other side." For the first time, when I stepped out of bed, my foot hurt. In fact, when I got out of bed in the middle of the night for my middle-of-the-night pee, I could barely walk.

WTF?!?

My run yesterday was not extraordinary, especially fast, or extra difficult. I may have gone out too fast, but still. Just an out and back 5 miles at a medium clip. It was almost entirely downhill the first half and, as luck would have it, almost entirely uphill the second half (hate when that happens).

I wonder if that had anything to do with it.

However, I am really pissed about the whole thing. Running is my salvo. And I look forward to the triathlon "off" season just so I can run more. This year, I signed up for a winter marathon.

Doesn't my foot know all that?

Plus, I have a rather busy running weekend. I'm supposed to do a short run today in prep for tomorrow's duathlon relay (I am running the 5k and 1 mile, while Hubby is riding the 22k). I will can the run if my foot is sore. But I cannot skip tomorrow's race. Hubby will have my head (since I talked him into it).

Then, Sunday is a long run (you know...to get ready for that marathon in 11 weeks). Two hours and thirty minutes of running to be exact. Perfect to test the new Garmin. (Yep. Succumbed. Got the Forerunner 301.)

Despite my achy foot, for now, all plans for the weekend are on. I will get through as best as I can. Thank God for ibuprofen (don't tell Coach). On Sunday or Monday, I will evalute how my foot's doing, consult with Coach Debi, and decide how much, if any, running I need to take off.

Yeesh.

Fiddle-faddle footing it to a 15k PR

Lake Caroline 15k Race Report
1:22:47 – PR, baby!
6/15 in age group
105/249 finishers
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The Lake Caroline 15k was one of my first Jackson-area races after moving here 3 years ago. At that point, my fitness had started to diminish as I wasn’t adjusting too well to my new life and working out was sporadic at best. In addition, I had put on the first 5 or so of my Mississippi-10 (kinda’ like the “freshmen-10,” only this was brought on by way too much fried food, sweet tea, larger than necessary portions, and sheer laziness).

I didn’t run the race in 2007 or 2008, but finally had the opportunity again this year. I like the Lake Caroline 15k. It’s probably one of the Mississippi Track Club’s biggest races with about 250 runners. It is run completely within Lake Caroline, a ritzy-ish golf course community that surrounds a large, 800+ acre lake. Sorta’ “out in the country,” it makes for a pretty run, especially on a day like Saturday, a perfect, albeit chilly, fall day with a brisk, cooling wind. (Well, alright. It was cold.)

I had goals for the race. When I ran it in 2006, I finished with a 1:29:55. Much better than expected, but still over 3 minutes slower than my fastest 15k way back in 2003 (1:26:xx at the Frostbite 15k in Richmond, Virginia). Based on some recent races and “tests,” the McMillan Calculator said I should be able to run this distance in 1:25 and change.

That was the good news.

The not-so-good news was my foot. Specifically, my heel. Of late, it had been niggling me. Mostly, it was just a discomfort. Some days were more painful than others, but it had yet to actually keep me from running. Then, the week of the race, at the beginning of my Monday easy run, it hurt quite a bit for a good 10 minutes or so before fading away. It was the same during Tuesday’s tempo workout. Then, on Wednesday, every step of my little 20-minute run after my bike ride was painful. I ran using short, little steps, but I was very uncomfortable. Coach Debi responded to my note about it in my Training Peaks, telling me to take a couple of days off from running.

Okay, I thought. I can do “a couple of days,” but after that, I have a race to run. Because I’m registered, and it’s paid for. Because I have this marathon in 12 weeks. Because I really need to be running.

Over the next couple of days, I stretched. I took Hammer Nutrition’s Tissue Rejuvenator. The heel pain diminished.

Saturday morning, I was ready to run. I hoped.

I dressed for cold and the possibility of a slower-than-planned for run should my heel act up. So, I chose a long-sleeved tech shirt, capri tights, gloves, and a running cap. (Well. I actually chose the capri pants because I desperately needed to shave, and they only showed the bottom 12 inches of my very hairy legs.)

I did a very slow jog for 10 minutes to warmup and finalize my race plan. The heel was telling me all systems were go (only slight discomfort on the warmup). Thus, the plan was this: don’t worry about time, but run by heart rate. Target middle to upper zone 3 and stay there for the first 10k. Try to push the final 10k into zone 4.

The gun fired, and we shuffled off. The start was crowded, and I had put myself toward the back to keep myself from going off too quickly. I didn’t know if I would need additional warmup time for my heel now that I was moving at a faster pace. But I had no discomfort or pain whatsoever. Phew.

Because this race was on a Saturday and because our marathon training group usually meets for long runs on Saturday mornings and because so many folks in the group had signed up for this race, by popular vote, the Lake Caroline 15k was also the Fleet Feet marathon training group Saturday morning long run. It’s a large training group with at least 8 coaches. As I began to settle into my early miles pace, one of the coaches was flitting from group to group, checking on goal paces, making sure everyone was okay. She flitted to my side, asked me what my goal was. “1:25,” I replied, thinking to myself, “please flit away.”

See. Here’s the deal. I don’t like to run with other people. I especially don’t like to run with other people in races. The only “people” I ever liked running with were Samantha and Rusty. But they are in Fredericksburg, and I am in Madison. Our “head” coach, as it were, makes fun of me during our “group” training runs since I am almost always by myself, somewhere halfway between the 10 minute/mile pace group and 11 minute/mile pace group. And it never fails. No matter the race, the amount of people running it, or the distance, I always seem to end up in my own space at some point.

Rebecca, however, decided that she had a job to do that morning. And since I was the only one, so far, that did not have the handy-dandy Garmin to pace me (well, I did, but I was going by heart rate rather than pace, but she didn’t know that). Rebecca, by the way, is a wonderful young lady. I really like her and her husband. They have an adorable baby boy and a beautiful dog, and are just a nice family.

But I really didn’t want her to run with me.

How do you tell someone that without being totally rude and obnoxious? And she only wanted to help. That’s a lot different than the person who just wants “to run your pace.” So, I thought, “eh, what the heck? It might actually help.”

And you know what? It did.

Go figure.

We settled in together and every once in a while, Rebecca would mention our average pace. It was well under the 9:15s I needed to get to my 1:25 goal, but I continued to keep an eye on my heart rate, and it was exactly where I wanted it. In the meantime, this was obviously an “easy” pace for Rebecca as she was encouraging, high-fiving, and cheering on all the other runners we saw. Yeesh. Youngsters these days!

The first half of the race looped through the neighborhood on one side of the lake. It was pretty flat, and the loop-de-loop nature gave plenty of opportunity to see both ends of the pack (as I was pretty much in the middle). That allowed me to cheer on (or at least give the thumbs up sign because that’s about all I was really capable of) a lot of my friends.

Before I knew it, we were headed across the dam to the other side of the lake. A quick peek at my watch, and I saw that Rebecca had paced me to about 40:30 for the halfway point (approximately), and I was a little astonished that I might actually be able to finish in the low 1:20s on this day. Everything still felt pretty good. That’s not to say I wasn’t working hard, because I was. It was taking definite concentration and focus to keep the pace up, and it helped enormously to just hang on to Rebecca’s shoulder.

Before we had reached the dam, we had picked up another marathon training teammate, and he joined our little pace group since he wanted to run under a 9:00/mile pace. Our pace was under that at that point (which I knew gave me some wiggle room if I ended up combusting). The three of us cruised across the dam, up and over the little bridge, and another neighborhood loop. We saw the eventual winner as he headed into the last mile, and he was well ahead of any competition.

Once again, the loopy nature of the course gave plenty of opportunity to see and cheer on many friends. It really is a fun course to run.

The second loop, however, was harder than the first. On the way out, the wind was a bit stiff and in our face. I was starting to feel the effects of my efforts. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be to stay in zone 3 for over an hour. I stayed focused on Rebecca’s shoulder (when she wasn’t flitting off somewhere), and, all of a sudden, we were headed back across the dam with 1 mile to the finish.

Now, Karen, it’s time to put on the burners. Three, two, one…

Ugh. Never mind.

The return across the dam was the hardest part of the race. The wind was in our faces, and, although I knew it was still a full mile of running, the finish line at the clubhouse looked to be “right there.”

About halfway across, Rebecca and Oliver took off since he wanted to finish under 1:21. I still had a large cushion on my 1:25, and as I was fading pretty quickly, I just tried to maintain until we were completely across the dam and then went for the finishing “sprint.” (Also, I needed to get away from the very tall guy with the extremely heavy footsteps. It hurt me to hear him.)

Across the finish line, hit the watch, and done in 1:21:47. Almost a 5-minute PR. Woo-hoo!

I ended up sixth in my age group. Had I been in the 40-44 or 25-29 age group, I would have been third. As it was, I wasn’t even close. These 45+ year old women are smokin’ fast!

In the end, I feel good about this race and the effort I put into it. It gives me some slight hope that I can finally break 2 hours (again) in my upcoming half marathon this December.

I guess we’ll see.

The bathroom edition

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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Turns out I didn’t drink as much water as I should have during the day, yesterday. So, I went into my easy Monday evening run not as hydrated as I should have been. I wasn’t thirsty while running. But, even though it was a bit cool and crisp, I sweat my standard copious amounts, and the drier than normal air felt, well, drying.

[Aside: Last night’s run went right up there with “best of the rest.” It was a thoroughly pleasant 65ish degrees, clear skies, light wind. Just beautiful. Once my stupid plantar fascia warmed up and stopped hurting, I was cruising comfortably in zone 1/2. Folks were out ambling, walking the dog, jogging, playing soccer. The sunset turned the sky purple and pink, and it felt good to be alive and moving.]

By the time I got home from my run, I was thirsty. Drank 3 big glasses of water (and one small glass of wine). Yeah, sure. That’s all okay if it’s the middle of the day. Not such a good idea when your run ends at 7 p.m., and you go to bed at 10:30 p.m.

I was up peeing every 2 hours. Literally. Every 2 hours.

Too much water plus a pea-sized bladder conspired to prevent me from getting a decent night’s sleep.

S’rsly.

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You know those automatic flush toilets in public restrooms? They never seem to work for me. I always have to reach in back and push the button. I don’t think it has anything to do with my weird electrical charge that sends my heart rate monitor off the charts. I do think it’s because my ass isn’t big enough.

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Upon perusing the USAT qualification standards, I am pretty much convinced that, based on my age group win at EagleMan and it being a USAT certified race, I have qualified for the 2010 Age Group Nationals.

Woot!

One of my many goals this year was to qualify for nationals. I had hoped it would be for this year. Never occurred to me that my last triathlon of the season would be “the one.”

So, next year, I will head back down to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, this time as a participant, and hope they don’t open the upstream flood gates.

[Nah. The whole post isn’t about bathrooms. That was just the interest-piquing headline.]

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This past weekend, fall came gusting into central Mississippi. It was great running weather, which was very much to the benefit of the inaugural Marathon Makeover Marathon and Half Marathon on Saturday. I didn’t run, but since Hubby was hired (yes, “hired” and paid!) to manage the finish line, I felt it was my spousal duty to help out.

I showed up at the finish line shortly after 9 a.m. and after completing an 8.5 mile run with my own marathon training group. I was given a pair of scissors and directed to cut chips off finishers’ shoes.

Why can’t runners use an ankle strap like in triathlon?

There I was, right-handed scissors in my left hand, on a cold and blustery day, attempting to snip at zip ties that were tightly wound around shoelaces (or, in some cases, unlacing shoes because the runner had used the laces to attach the chip to the shoe) all the while making sure the tired runner did not topple over on me.

Can you see where this is going?

To my credit, I managed to retrieve chips for nearly 5 hours before attempting to cut off the tip of my right index finger.

So there.

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One of the marathon’s top finishers (third, I think?) was Dane Rauschenberg, whose recently published book, See Dane Run, chronicles his journey to complete 52 marathons in 52 weeks.

We had the opportunity to meet Dane the next day at our triathlon club meeting. He spoke a bit about his experience and then hung around to sign copies of his book and chat.

He is personable, funny, smart, and cute, too. And no slouch marathon runner either with multiple sub 3-hour finishes.

I know a lot of folks pooh-pooh what they call “stunt” runners, but I figure, if the hype and publicity get more people out and active and challenging themselves, then it’s all good. In addition to the fact that most of these runners, Dane included, raise substantial amounts for various well-deserving charities.

Of course, I bought his book and got it signed. Talked with him a bit and found we both were saddened by the demise of Marathon in the Parks and rank the Marine Corps Marathon up at the top of our all time favorites.

Dane will be coming back to Mississippi in January to run the Mississippi Blues Marathon. For this race, he is starting after everyone else has crossed the start line and then attempting to pass as many runners as possible on his way to the finish. He calls it a “Charity Chaser” as he is “rewarded” for each runner he passes with money going to a charity of the race organization’s choice.

Pretty cool.

I might put a sign on my back that says, “Dane, say ‘hi’ as you pass me!”

Because he will pass me.

And, no. I will not be reading his book in the bathroom.

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A colleague of mine who is a diabetic has recently been accepted into a strict program, run by the hospital, to help him manage his diabetes and improve his overall health. He admits to not taking care of himself as well as he should over the last year or so. And he realizes that his long-term quality of life depends on fully embracing a healthier lifestyle.

Another colleague put it very eloquently: “It is a life choice.”

How ironic then that this same colleague ridicules my life choices regarding fitness and nutrition while chowing down on a hamburger and fries and lamenting her weight, blood pressure, and cholesterol.

I guess since I don’t have an actual disease, like diabetes, that my healthy lifestyle is superfluous.

Probably never occurred to her that it’s the reason I don’t have a disease (like obesity, hypertension, or atherosclerosis).

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In case you hadn’t noticed, I am playing around with updating the look of my blog. The picture in the top banner isn’t exactly what I want and covers up the title (maybe time for a new title?), but it is close to what I am going for.

I also desperately need to update my linked blogs. Blogger has a cool widget for that, and I just need to sit down, make a list, and get it done.

In the meantime, in the last week, I have grown from 8 followers to 11 plus a couple of lurkers coming out of the closet. I really might be the “popular girl” one day (Thanks, guys. The checks are in the mail.)

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Time for a potty break.

Cardboard boxes

Last night I had the strangest dreams. Really weird. In one of them, I was taking a bath in a cardboard box. A bubble bath.

In a cardboard box.

It retained water just fine. But it didn't seem to be adhered to the floor in any manner. And I can't say for sure where this cardboard bathtub was but, apparently, not in an enclosed bathroom. Because, after I tried to keep it from sliding forward, it went backward, down the driveway, and into the field across the street.

While I was in it.

Taking a bubble bath.

In my cardboard box.

WTF?

So, this afternoon, I am doing my usual post-lunch surf, and I click my way over to Dooce, which I had read yesterday, but thought maybe there might be a new post. Sure enough. A couple of new photos. (BTW, Marlo = adorable.) And underneath those photos, yesterday's post:

http://www.dooce.com/2009/10/12/now-i-understand-why-cardboard-was-invented

Aha!
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My sister sent me a recipe exchange e-mail. Sounds kinda' fun. You simply send a recipe to the first person on the list, put your name on the list, and then forward the request to 20 of your friends.

Except. I don't have 20 friends.

Sad, huh?

And my sister already used in-laws and cousins, so now I'm down to about 3 friends.

Okay. So I exaggerate. But I really don't know 20 people I would send the e-mail to.

I wonder if I can still play?
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Speaking of friends, I am up to 8 followers on my blog.

At this rate, by the time I'm 60, I will finally be that girl.

You know.

The popular one.