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Tuesday, December 30, 2008

fast and fun

Another running first: running fast!

For most new runners, it's easy to get caught up in the whole "slow and steady wins the race" mindset, never really pushing yourself for fear of not being able to finish the mileage goal you've set that day and worse, end up in total side-cramping, legs-buckling pain. Do either of these early on and you might just lose confidence in your running abilities all together.

So it's such a huge surprise when you find that you can push yourself to run like the wind, (cue Patrick Swayze.)

Tonight we ran laps running at the fastest speed we could for about a half mile, then the slowest we could for a half mile. We did about six of these laps, and I have to say, it made me feel like a track star. You get scared of those long strides as a new-to-the-sport distance runner, because they can mess up your pace, injure your legs, or just make you winded. So it's really nice to be able to take it full speed and not do any of those things, and in fact do just the opposite: run fast elegantly. (Picture Flo Jo in full '80s Olympic glory).

We even jogged back to the 91st street stretching spot instead of walked. (Now envision me brushing my shoulders off.)

Personal reminder: running every day, no days off, helps and makes this whole thing a lot easier. When you're tempted to take a day or two or three off, don't do it!

Monday, December 29, 2008

5 ways to make it through the run

Sometimes running feels great. You're not even breaking a sweat. Your body actually feels good. You start to think your marathon dreams aren't such a crazy idea afterall.

But sometimes running just plain sucks. Weird parts of your body hurt. You're overheating or too cold. You start obsessing about what it would be like to walk just this once. Or on the worst days, what it would be like to give up the marathon training completely.

On those dark days you need tricks to get you through. Mental games so you're not counting down each .1 or every other lamp post. They might not be pretty, or make you feel like you deserve your subscription to Runner's World, but they work:

1. Smile. It's so cheesy, but it really does work. I'm a believer in the idea that your face shows what you're feeling inside, and if you can change your face, you can change what you're thinking. Plus, when you're smiling, other runners tend to smile back, (at least when running in my small home town), and that makes you feel like you're not in this whole thing alone, which makes you want to keep going.

2. Play the "if he/she can do it, so can I" game. This one works by conjuring up stories of friends and other people you've met or seen running marathons. Basically, if my friend Jen, who wasn't a runner to start, could run the NYC marathon, so can I. If my friend Holly, who was super in-shape, but seems to believe that anyone can do it, than so can I. If that guy you saw running the NYC marathon with titatanium legs could run the marathon under four hours, so can I. Repeat with any example you can think of until the doubt passes.

3. Sing. Well, for me, it's more like humming/wheezing/singing along to whatever song is on the iPod. This can work for more than 20 minutes or more. You get out of your own head, and the rhythm helps you stay on pace.

4. Plan. Take a future dream entirely unrelated to running. Start breaking it down into parts, thinking through dream scenarios for each little part. For example, what would my dream apartment look like if I could decorate it entirely based on the pages of Domino? Unintended benefit: often other solutions having nothing whatsoever to do with what you're thinking about will pop into your head unprompted.

5. Repeat one word over and over. Sometimes the negative mental loop is unrelenting. Terrible thoughts invade your brain like stormtroopers and you think you'll never be able to beat them. "Why did you sign up for this?" "You're running SLOWER than you did last week--and the three miles feels HARDER, not easier than when you ran four last time." "You said you didn't care about your finish time, but at this rate, you'll be walking half the race and be the last one to finish." Or the worst..."That chubby girl you were growing up is still in there, and she's never going to be able to do this." That's when you bring in the big guns. Like turning up the volume on an old school boombox to cover up the measly iPod speakers, you mentally repeat one word over and over and over until the chatter subsides. I use "in" and "out," along with my breathing when I'm too lazy to think, "om" when I'm feeling woo-woo-y, and "love," when I've been reading a little too much Deepak Chopra. Sometimes it takes five minutes or more, but eventually it works every time.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

good enough

I did it.

I just ran 7 miles (the loop plus a little extra).

I feel good, but still can't shake the feeling that I should have done it yesterday. Even though I ran the reverse direction (toward Harlem) which is mostly uphill, and it was raining what amounts to slush, and my feet felt like soggy boxes of frozen peas (is that a feeling?), and it still counts as the longest run I've ever done, I feel guilty.

It should have been easier by now. If I'd done it yesterday I would have had more fun, less sleet. Just because I can do seven miles without collapsing, it still took me an hour and a half, and at that rate I'll be finishing the marathon in six hours.

Okay, I realize all these thoughts are crazy. I still did it. And that's good enough.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

margarita madness

I missed a run today and I feel guilty.

The funniest thing was that I was actually looking forward to running this morning. I was going to try to out-do my personal best today, and was genuinely excited to see how it would feel to be running on a freshly snow-covered terrain.

I had run indoors (4 miles) on Thursday at the office gym, and it just wasn't the same. I thought watching Rachel Ray cook stuffed peppers would make the time fly by faster than seeing the same naked branches I've gotten so used to outside in Central Park, but it was just the opposite. Running on the treadmill, seeing each mile broken down into mini digital increments, being able to control the speed and incline by decimals, having the option to change the channel mid-mile to avoid commercials, it was like eating a dessert made with saccharine--it tastes too sweet in some artificial way.

I found myself wishing for the chill in the air to evaporate my sweat, and that smug feeling of, "yeah, I'm just crazy/strong/brave/hard-core enough to be out running when the rest of the world is cozying up on the couch watching Grey's Anatomy."

So on Thursday I told myself, just wait until Saturday--you'll feel so good running with your teammates, chatting away the early miles, silently commiserating on the later ones.

But then I went out with my coworkers for an office happy hour last night. I told myself one margarita would be fine. And as ashamed as I am to admit this, I need to get it out there: A few margaritas in we ended up at my coworker's holiday party, and then somehow I lost my bag, my keys, my phone and anything else that would allow me to get into my apartment, sleep and get up at 6:30AM for the run.

After a way-too-nice neighbor generously fronted the cash for a hotel room, I drifted off, and I swear, the last thoughts in my head were about the morning's run I'd be missing. Though avoiding the seven miles was a relief, for the most part I just felt regret.

This morning, I made it back into my apartment (the missing bag turned up, thank goodness), and like a mac truck slamming into a highway median strip, a wave of self-doubt struck me stronger than I'd ever felt. Why had I signed up for this thing? Who did I think I was fooling? I have just three months to go and I've still never run more than six miles, and even that, only twice so far. Was this just going to be another thing I'd have to give up on? A dream just too big or hard to accomplish? Would I keep going, but keep taking the easy way out on the runs meant to push me and get me to my goal? And worst of all, was I subconsciously sabotaging my success, because deep down, I didn't really believe I could do it.

I am embarrassed to admit it, but even after I got back at noon, I couldn't go out to run today at all. I just didn't have it in me. It's amazing how the one muscle in your body that seems to resist training the hardest is your brain.

In hopes of finding any inspiration to keep me going, I read back issues of Runner's World my next-door neighbor lent me. In it, there was one story that had personal meaning.

It was about a guy running his first marathon ever, the NYC marathon, with his father who'd run more than 30. Throughout the summer he trained, but not enough, logging in 3 miles when he should have been doing four, skipping cross-training for happy hours, and quitting at six miles during the long runs. With two months to go, he got an email from his father. How was the training going? He should have clocked in a few 13-milers by now. He was in serious jeopardy of having to walk on the run, and while that's fine, it's not what his father really wanted for the duo's first run together--he didn't want to be in the 6-hour group struggling to cross the finish line.

The email was a serious wakeup call for the guy, who started to take training more seriously in the final two months, getting in long runs despite his hatred of them and the pain he had to endure. Finally, in four and a half hours, he was able to cross the finish line with his dad, the runner's high kicking in for the last two miles, finishing stronger than even he thought he would.

I guess just like the six-mile loop in the park, training for a marathon is not one steady, slow incline. There are uphills and downhills, curves and straight lines, and sometimes, even the best-intentioned runners have babystrollers crossing their paths, making them stop for a second (or more to the point), they let the babystrollers get in their way sometimes.

I'm going to get out there tomorrow morning and try to run seven miles, the farthest I've ever run. Even if I have to slow down or walk a few yards throughout the course, I'm going to keep going.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

s'now way

Another first for me tonight: running while snowing. It sounds like texting while driving, or some other kind of dangerous practice, but actually it was quite nice, thanks to those perfectly formed flakes that seem to only come down in December.

Tonight's practice was about increasing effort levels. That way, our coaches explained, we'd create tiny tears in our muscles, that in recovery, would reheal forming tighter, stronger bonds. Makes sense.

So instead of an easy pace where you can run and run and run and talk to your friends, you need to basically be panting, almost out of breath the whole time. This whole concept scares me a little, and brings up awful childhood memories of the President's Challenge in gym class, where we'd be running the track, and I was always the last one, sweating and breathing heavy just trying to catch up to the rest of the class. But that story's for another post...

We ran from 91st street up to 94th, turned around and ran down to 84th near Cleopatra's needle, then back again to 94th, back to Cleo's and back again to 91st. It sounds pretty tame, but then the coaches told us to spend the bulk of it at this panting pace. Like if you can normally say, "Hey, running in the snow sucks." You should now only be able to say, "Hey, ru..."

It's kind of amazing how just when you get comfortable, life throws you curveballs. Okay so tonight wasn't anything too dramatic. It's not like I keeled over from the extra huffing and puffing--I finished in plenty of time. But after Saturday's four-miler run hungover (see last post), it had been fun to think I'd totally already become an elite marathoner and my success in Rome was completely assured. Feeling that uncomfortable, once-familiar burn for the entire 45 minutes once again reminded me that I've got a long way to go.

Monday, December 15, 2008

whose idea was it again to run a roadrace the day after my birthday?

So this past Friday night was my 31st birthday. This past Saturday morning was my first-ever road race. I wish I could tell you I had a few glasses of wine with my friends before heading home to get a good night's rest before the 8:30 AM race time.

But instead, I decided to throw a Champagne-themed house party, lapping my guests 2-1 with refills.

My friends from Syracuse were in town, and I had the best time ever (last I recall we almost closed the bar down at Prohibition), and I passed out on my couch (my friends snuck into my bed!)

Before this year, I would have a) never even thought of signing up for the race in the first place knowing I'd want to put my all into my party or b) sign up but not give two thoughts about skipping it when I woke up in the morning.

So I was a little amazed when my eyes opened on their own at 7:30 AM without an alarm clock, my running gear miraculously made it onto my body, and my arms and legs marched me out into the not-at-all forgiving winter weather. It was almost like my body knew my brain would be no good, and just said, "okay, seriously, let us handle this," propelling me forward toward the 102nd street starting line.

At the race start, I felt my muscles take over, tying on my chip, fastening my number on my fleece, finding a place in line and stumbling into a slow jog as the sound went off. Thankfully there was water right away (can you be dehydrated if alcohol is still in your system?). And my pace grew steady as I coasted carefully, trying not to teeter too much in either direction, along with the rest of runners.

I kept my thoughts to a bare minimum (otherwise I knew I'd duck out of the race); but I did find one thing amusing: pretty much everyone was passing by me like cars speeding by one of those nice old ladies in her motorized wheelchair on the side of the road. But like those grandmas I couldn't help but smile. Waking up, getting out there, not letting past predict my present, I felt like some new part of me had found it's way out.

As I finished the four miles, my Team in Training folks cheering me on from the sidelines, I was tired, hungover and numb from the cold, but I still felt better than I had in a long time.

Hmmm, so you're really doing this

Welcome to my little running blog, charting my blood, sweat and tears as I train for the Rome Marathon, March 22, 2009.

I started training about a month ago, but I'm still in the regular-people mileage stages, doing about three miles, three times a week, with slightly longer runs on Saturday mornings.

What got me started? I wish I could say it was because of some life-changing milestone, like turning 30, which I did a little over a year ago. No, actually, it was because I was in a wedding this summer, and when my J. Crew bridesmaid dress came in in early February, there was probably a good six inches between me and the zipper actually closing!

Totally panicking, I went into my little Curves on 85th and Columbus and asked Christina the owner what to do. I thought she'd tell me to come in and do the 30-minute workouts as often as possible, but no. She said the best way to burn back fat fast (say that three times fast!) was crazy amounts of cardio. And the best way to do that was to go to the park and run.

Turns out she herself had just shed a full-dress size for a wedding by doing just this, so I decided to take her advice and start walk/running six times a week for the 10 weeks before the wedding. Looking doubtfully at the course that very first day, I thought back to my last try around the resevoir near my apartment a few months earlier. All I can really remember about it was thinking, "I can't breathe. No seriously, I can't breathe." I hoped this time would be different, but really, unless I wanted to purchase a whole other dress to cut down into side panels for my non-zippering one, I had no choice.

I set off around the 1.6 mile resevoir in Central Park and at first I could barely make it half-way around. There was this one lampost near 90th street I'd push myself to reach, but much of the time, I'd give up and start walking 50 yards in. I think my problem was that I'd be thinking about that lamppost before I even started running, and somehow fooled myself into believing in some "French Women Don't Get Fat" way that walking was just as good as running anyway. (Forget the fact that the rest of my day was not strolling the boulevards in Paris, but sitting hunched over a computer screen in midtown.)

Fast forward to wedding day, my dress zipping up perfectly, a few pounds shed, I couldn't believe it. Somehow over 10 weeks, I'd turned 200 yards into a regular 3-mile habit. Basically just by doing a little more each time. I even think my non-pushing myself attitude worked for me, because I never started hating the run, like I had before when I'd push myself to total red-faced, lungs-collapsed exhaustion.

But then when the wedding was over, I started to wonder, would I be able to keep it up? But little did I realize--it was the middle of summer, and therefore an entirely new reason to get out there: hot men.

Yes, I'm not afraid to admit it. They were everywhere, without shirts on, glistening with sweat. It was like I'd stumbled on a secret six-pack shangri-la. That and the Mama Mia! Soundtrack were all I needed to keep up the running throughout the summer.

In the fall, the NYC marathon was taking place and my friend Holly and my coworker Kim were running it. I've had friends run almost every year and every year as I watch the runners go by, I'm totally amazed and inspired and wish I could be doing it, too.

This year was no different. As I met up with Holly after the race, I could tell I was almost there mentally. I was literally eating her good vibes at the after party, and after recently running the full six-mile loop without stopping, I just needed one final push. Then the brochure from Team in Training came, mentioning a marathon in Rome. How fun. Without thinking about it much, I went to a meeting, and signed up on the spot.

So now I find myself four weeks in, getting up out of bed a half hour before sunrise to circle the park. I've run in the rain, in below-freezing weather and hungover. Each time now, I feel good, not like I'll die of asphixiation. And I can start to see how it might, possibly, hopefully, be somewhat imaginable that I could actually do this!

So if you feel like following along as I brag (to myself mostly) about running moments in the chill of winter and the realizations that come along with it all (I've been known to love sharing a good "a ha" moment), then come back often!

P.S. this post is super long, but I'll probably stick to random short observations from here on out!

Meg
 
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