Mo' Therapy, Mo' Bruises; "Ionto" with "Dex"

Last Thursday I had my last round of therapy before I head to LA this next coming Thursday. (Completely coincidentally, I have to be there for work on Thursday & Friday, which is AWESOME because it means work is now paying for my flight. Thank you, Virgin refundable!)

One of my favorite things about my current PT is his positive outlook. At my first visit I didn't mention the fact that I was hoping to run a marathon in less than four weeks, because I didn't need to hear any doomsaying about it when I was already well aware that it might not happen. On the second visit he asked me when my next event was, so I told him & braced myself for the doubtful looks & pessimistic prognosis.

But his only response was "Well, we better get you fixed up, then."

Given that this last visit was only 10 days before the marathon and my TFL had been getting better, he said he wanted to assume that I would be able to run and treat aggressively today to give me the best shot possible at a solid, pain-free race. I could have hugged him just for saying it.

Apparently 'aggressive' meant a gauntlet of stretching, adjusting, aligning, ART, and yes, more suction cups. This time several of the bruises swelled up like sponges when they took the cups off, which was I guess impressive enough that he kept calling over other therapists & being like, "Here, come touch this. This is how you know you got the right spot." (Not the first time I've been used as a teaching tool in a medical setting, and probably not the last.)

From what he told me, I *think* the puffing up means that the muscle was so tight & locked up that metabolic byproducts & other fluids had gotten trapped inside it & couldn't get out. When the adhesions were released by the suction, the fluid causes the muscle & other tissue to swell up as they began flushing out. (Any PT/bio/medical nerds, feel free to correct me if any of that sounds completely wrong.) I skipped the pictures this time because how many giant hickey photos do you really need to see in life, but if you've forgotten, it pretty much looks exactly the same as last week, just with an extra layer of lighter, half-healed bruises underneath the fresh ones.

Finally, he used a technique called iontophoresis (or "ionto" as the cool kids call it) to inject a corticosteroid called dexamethasone ("dex") into my TFL, which I thought was just the coolest shit ever. Basically iontophoresis uses electric current to push an ionized medicine through the skin and into deep tissue via a disposable adhesive patch.

Battery-powered ionto patch

After swabbing my skin & pressing the patch into place, he charged the tiny batteries on top of the patch. The charging process is very slightly uncomfortable, sort of like being bitten by an ant or mosquito for 2-3 minutes, but I got used to it pretty quickly. After that I had to wear the patch for 2 hours while the medicine sank in. Wearing the patch was completely comfortable; if anything, all I felt was a little warmth from the battery.

I did a little reading on the technique when I got home, and it sounds like iontophoresis with dex is becoming a popular treatment for inflamed tissue because it has all the benefits of a cortisone injection (immediate, potent, targeted) without the drawbacks (discomfort, irritation, risk of infection or tissue damage). My therapist's view seemed to be that the worst was over and the muscle was healing, and the steroid would keep the inflammation that's part of the natural healing process from getting out of hand & causing tightness & stiffness over the next week.

I told him that my plan was to gradually increase the lengths of my runs this week, & if I could do 10-12 over the weekend with little or no pain (and most importantly, pain that didn't get progressively worse), I would feel comfortable at least attempting the marathon.

"Keep it to 10," he advised me. "The extra two won't help you at this point, and there's no reason to risk aggravating it again. 10 will tell you what you need to know."

"My prediction is, you'll be able to do it," he told me before I left. "You may have some discomfort towards the end & not be able to run as hard as you want to, but if you can get through 10, you can get through 26."

Again, I could have hugged him.

Today (Saturday) I'd planned to run 8, and if that went well, try for 10 on Sunday. But when I got to four miles and still felt good, I decided not to turn around & instead just try to get the ten done. It was a warm one out in GG Park today & I definitely stopped at every water fountain & took advantage of all the shade I could find, but I finished my ten with just the tiniest noticeable twinge, and even that went away within half an hour or so.

Bay to Breakers prep under way in the Panhandle. One of these years I won't have other race plans on that day or the weekends before or after & will finally get to run it. For living in San Francisco, I don't see nearly enough naked / bizarrely costumed people.

It's been a close thing, but I feel like I can say with 99% certainty that one week from tomorrow, I'm running a marathon. (Assuming I haven't just jinxed myself....)

A Bit of Cautious Optimism

Last Friday I went to my 2nd PT session at UCSF. In the first session, they used a suction machine to try to tear up some of the scar tissue in my right quad / IT band (sort of like reverse ART) & loosen it up. This last time, the verdict was that the tightness & scar tissue extended all the way up into my lower back and the hip flexors on the sides of my abs. (Did you know you had hip flexors there? I didn't.) So the suction machine it was.

Yeah. Good times.

I'm happy to report that in the last few days, things have been looking up. As of the weekend, I still had some niggling pain & didn't try to run. I realized Monday afternoon, though, that I was completely pain-free just walking around, so I decided to try a few slow, easy miles, just to see how it felt.

Mentally, I told myself very firmly that this was not a workout, not a training run -- just a little test to see how the leg held up after a few miles. By 1.5 I still felt good but decided to play it safe & turn around anyway since the last thing I wanted to do was push my leg too hard on my first pain-free day & make things worse again. Around 2ish I could feel just a tiny twinge, not even really enough to call pain, but enough for me to know I'd made the right choice not to try to go farther. When I first got home I thought it might feel good to ice it a bit; an hour later I realized even the little twinge was gone and I'd forgotten all about the ice.

On Tuesday I was in Fairfield for work, where I normally run on the hotel treadmill because I don't know the area super-well. Initially I figured this would probably work out for the best, since a treadmill meant I could stop whenever I wanted rather than hoping that I'd turned around soon enough. However, this is the first time I've been here where it was light and warm and beautiful into the evening, and with so many empty, quiet, bucolic sidewalks beckoning, I couldn't resist heading outside for a little jog.

If it hadn't been for the fact that I was being cautious about my leg, I could've run forever. Honestly, sometimes I get so. damn. SICK of running my same traffic-light ridden, pedestrian-congested routes around the city. What would I give to have lovely paths like these right outside my door? There are times--not very often, but occasionally--when I really miss the suburbs.

I pushed it to five miles this time & and happily my leg held up, again leaving me with just a little twinge in the hour or so after the run that soon completely disappeared. I even kept up a good pace without much effort, which was reassuring after two single-digit weeks in a row. I'm still wary of doing too much too soon, but currently my loose plan is to take Wednesday off & do some longer single-digit runs on Thursday & Friday, take Saturday off, & if all goes well & my leg is feeling good, try for the 12 miler on my schedule on Sunday. If that goes well, then Houston, I think we may have a marathon attempt on our hands after all.

Hanging In There (& A Brief Defense of Coaches)

Today I got that email that marathons send out a couple weeks before the race with all the logistical information & last-minute updates.

Which made me all giddy & excited for a couple of seconds. Then my giddiness faded, replaced by....I don't know what. Pre-emptive resignation? Hopeful sadness? I don't really know how to explain it.

Back in March I saw my sports medicine doctor because of a very clinical and official symptom in my right leg & lower back called "something-isn't-quite-right-itis," and his suggestion was to give it a few weeks & see if it resolved. A month later it hadn't, but it also wasn't really interfering with my running. I completely failed every time I tried to explain it to him in words. Basically it's an annoying tightness in my lower back & right hip, & some just-slightly-noticeable weakness in my right leg. There still weren't clinical symptoms when I saw him in April, but his thought at that point was that a PT should probably take a look at me anyway.

The following Sunday I ran 17 miles mostly at a sub-8:10 pace. I had no intention of running that fast and actively spent most of the run trying to slow down, but it felt uncomfortable any time I tried. That evening, I started having sharp pain in my right adductor & TFL to the point that even walking was kind of uncomfortable.

I took Monday off, then on Tuesday traded my track workout for a few easy miles around GG Park because the TFL was still bothering me. I'd planned to do maybe 6-7 miles, but the first five were so uncomfortable and aggravated the pain in my right adductor / TFL so badly that I didn't try to go any further.

At this point I emailed Coach Tom because I was feeling kind of emotionally unstable & really needed a professional to tell me it was going to be okay. (And...because it seems kind of not-cool in the blogosphere just now to have a coach, let me point out that he's not actually my coach, just responsible for the schedule (except when I choose not to follow it) & lets me email him crazy questions now & then. This works infinitely better for me than googling generic training plans or trying to sort out 17 different opinions from 17 different non-professionals every time I have a question.)

Basically, I got four responses from Tom:

• Srsly, you have GOT to get this late-in-the-cycle-too-fast-long run ish UNDER CONTROL;
• It was only 17 miles, so you probably have not blown your race;
• You have a lot of solid training under your belt right now;
• The pain is a major concern so do not ignore it.

It felt a little better on Wednesday morning, so I gave it one more easy four-miler. When that run was even more jarring & painful than the last, I called it quits & didn't try to run anymore for the rest of the week.

Two days later, I was off to the Human Performance Center at UCSF to see the man who my doctor assured me was the Lord of the PTs as far as running was concerned.

He spent about an hour & a half doing all kinds of strength, flexibility, balance, alignment, etc. tests on my legs & feet & back & pelvis, & made a few observations.

• My pelvis is twisted to the left, and rotated slightly forward (which I already knew).
• As a result, one of my legs is slightly shorter than the other (which I also already knew).
• Although my core strength is good in general, there are some imbalances. The hip muscles on my right side are weaker than the ones on the left, and while my outer hamstring muscles are balanced strength-wise, my inner hamstring muscles are significantly weaker on the right side. (Did you know you have four hamstring muscles on each side?? This was news to me.)
• Severe, severe, SEVERE tightness in my right hip flexor area. Apparently he couldn't even assess the flexibility of my TFL because my quad & IT band on that side were so tight.

He seemed confident these things could be fixed with a bit of time & work, which was reassuring. He assigned me some stretches & exercises, & then used a suction cup machine to do what he described as "reverse ART" on my right IT band & quad. Ie, the goal is still to tear apart the adhesions / scar tissue, but it's done by pulling, rather than pushing / torquing.

"If you're squeamish, you might not want to look," he added.

The suction cups proved to involve all the pain & discomfort of ART, with the added freakiness of feeling like you're being eaten by an octopus.

I spent the day walking around with three giant hickies on my thigh. Hawt.

This past Monday, I tried running again, just an easy four miles. I survived it, but it was not comfortable, and I would not have tried to go any farther (and would have quit sooner if I'd been closer to home). After karate the TFL actually felt almost normal. After some strength work Tuesday afternoon, it felt worse than before. I emailed all this to Coach Tom, because I was starting to have another little freak out that for the first time included thoughts about whether or not I was going to be able to run Ojai at all.

By Tuesday afternoon it was feeling better. I decided I would go to the track, and one of four things would happen:

1) It would have magically healed since lunch & I would be able to do my scheduled track workout with no problem.

2) It would be mostly fine but achey, and I'd do my warm up, cool down, & some part of the track workout.

3) It would feel achey still but not acutely painful, and I'd do a few easy miles on the track & call it good.

4) It would feel epically bad pretty much immediately, and I would quit & go home.

You can probably guess how this played out. After one mile, I was limping and desperately wishing I had an ice pack in the car. On a whim I checked email on my phone, & as if on cue, had a response from Coach Tom, spelling out the criteria for whether or not it's worth attempting to run in Ojai.

1) The pain has to be gone. Gone. g-o-n-e, GONE. 26 miles is just too far for gambling & hoping. Which means probably another week with no running.

2) In the last 2 weeks, I need to get in one double digit run & at least three runs in the 4-6 mile range. If I can do that much, I should still be able to capitalize on my last few months of training & have a PR race.

I can't tell you how reassuring it was to have those things spelled out for me, in writing, by someone who has made a living for decades training hundreds of runners at all levels. No guessing, no wandering around the internet sifting through a dozen anecdotal stories.

(While we're on this topic, I want to briefly defend the idea of a regular, average person getting a coach. Although "coaching" is too strong a word for this particular arrangement, I think that it's this kind of certainty & guidance & reassurance that people who are not elite or sub-elite or training for an ultra or Ironman or whatever are looking for sometimes. You aren't paying them to write the schedule or motivate you; your best friend & the internet can do that. I mean yes, technically those things are part of the deal, but I think what you're really paying for, by & large, is the removal of uncertainty, of trial-and-error, and the optimization of your extremely limited training time.)

So....There you go. Running is usually how I hold myself together mentally & emotionally, so you can probably guess how well no running works with the whole I-might-be-too-hurt-to-run-my-cool-awesome-destination-ridiculously-expensive-at-this-point-redemption-marathon situation. Let's just say there's been a lot of baking, since apparently that's what I do at times like these.

Frankly, I'm just not feeling up to logging the runs (or anything, actually) that I've done since the 17-miler. (If you've ever been injured, I'm sure you know that feeling like dailymile or RunningAhead or whatever it is you use to track your miles is just mocking you.) Hopefully soon, though.

Hit me up if you need any baked goods. :P

A Small Reprieve...

First, I have to share how awesome it is to climb out of bed at 11 am on Sunday morning & see that the first handful of posts in my facebook & twitter feeds are pictures & announcements & congratulations on all manner of race-related accomplishments. So first, some hearty congratulations to friends from the blogosphere & beyond:

• Layla & Sam for their fantastic PRs at the Pittsburgh Marathon;
• Robin, for a sweet 24 minute PR + BQ at the NJ Marathon;
• Dave, for leaving it all out there & getting it done at a crazy tough NJ Marathon;
• Brooke, Cate, Jana, & Kimra for rocking various parts of Wildflower on a super-hot day;
• Sesa & any number of my former colleagues for finishing The [12 person, multi-day, 200 mile] Relay from Calistoga to Santa Cruz;
• Anyone else I missed (I have pretty much been a social media failure for the last week or so....but what else is new.)

Please humor me as I *do not* feel much like writing about my own running right now, though.

Instead, how about one of those posts where people talk about other stuff they do in their lives besides run? Those are nice. Let's have one of those.

1) Karate. I still need to do something about collecting all the pictures & video taken at my testing by various cameras, but there was one in particular that I was waiting on.

This is me with my panel (ie, the people who tested me) after the testing. In general I am a pretty un-emotional person but for some reason this one makes me emotional.

You can tell I was the one testing because of the translucent gi. Also, the hair. As always at Berkeley Isshin-ryu, QUALITY post-testing hair.

2) Books. One of my goals this year was to read 12 books. I am constantly depressed by my "To Read" list on Goodreads.com (BTW, you can follow me or be my friend there or however it works if you like to see what people are reading. I've found a lot of awesome books following folks on GR). I have started actually reading more, but at some point I had to just bite the bullet & accept that I'm never going to have all that much time to sit on a couch / lie in bed / whatever & read pages & pages at a time of anything. Not without quitting something.

On the other hand, I have a pretty reasonable car commute most days, so I finally took the advice of some friends & hopped on the Audible.com bandwagon. Yes, it means I am spending money on books and then not physically owning them, but on the other hand, I think I've gotten through an order of magnitude more books in the past four months than I've read old-school in any of the past few years. And that makes me happy. And the truth is that sometimes money can buy happiness.

Some of my favorites so far this year:

The Disappearing Spoon, by Sam Kean. What a great read! I was looking for something interesting, well-written, and not overly serious, and this fit the bill. I would recommend this book for the following people:

• People who enjoy amusing stories about science told through a historical / human interest kind of angle. (If you like RadioLab, you'll enjoy this book.)
• People who knew their chemistry at some point & would kind of like a refresher of the basics explained through entertaining stories.
• People who are curious about chemistry / particle physics but find terms like "covalence electrons" and "ionic bonds" kind of intimidating.
• Young people who have not yet studied chemistry formally (whether they're interested in science or not -- I could totally see this book turning a "fuzzy" on to science).
• Anyone who enjoys unconventional histories various & sundry.

Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore, by Robin Sloan. A smart & cute read, especially if you live in or know the Bay Area, especially if you are in any way tech-inclined or even tech-curious. (You certainly don't have to be knowledgeable to follow what's going on.) Lots of books try to be "young" and "modern" and totally blow it (especially with pop culture & dialogue), but this one pulls it off. If The Da Vinci code were hipper, cooler, better written, took itself less seriously, and set in SF / Silicon Valley, it might have turned out something like Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore.

The Glass Bead Game, by Herman Hesse. The best way I can think of to describe the feel of this classic is as a literary mash-up of Siddhartha, Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid, & Anathem -- a deeply abstract & cerebral bildungsroman full of interesting ideas about life, philosophy, academics, & the meaning / purpose of art, knowledge, & culture, in a kind of monastic setting. Not what I would call a beach read, but I've been meaning to read it for years & was happy that I finally got around to it.

Bossypants, by Tina Fey. This book was so much fun. It clearly shares DNA with Caitlin Moran's "How To Be A Woman," except more jokey & humorous (though she does make some serious points). Tina Fey is hilarious & it was fun to learn more about her & her career. (Basically, all I knew was that she was on Saturday Night Live & did Sarah Palin. I didn't even know she was connected to 30 Rock. Or what 30 Rock even was.) This, I WOULD call a beach read, in the best possible way.

3) Sorbet. I'm kind of obsessed with it right now. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's the new ice cream maker. Maybe it's all the amazing fruit that's available right now. I don't know. What I DO know is that I could freaking live off this stuff (er....if it had, like, nutrition & stuff).

The Alliterative Gourmets & I had an 'M' themed dinner party Saturday night, so I brought mango, Meyer lemon, & mojito. NOM.

Not pictured: mint julep, because I ate it all.

It's actually pretty easy to make even without an ice cream maker; just freeze a pan of the syrup (there are tons of recipes online), then stick it in a blender for a few seconds to fluff it up.

4) Wine. Because if I was going to have a blog, it was either going to be about running or wine, and there are times when I am still not convinced I made the right choice.

What we've been drinking lately:

1999 Woodward Canyon Cab (Walla Walla, WA). Because Don's birthday, and also 30-day aged sirloin. Highly recommend, but let it age. It's that kind of cab.

2009 Kenneth Volk Pomar Junction Touriga (Paso Robles, CA). "But what is Touriga?" you ask. "I have never heard of that one." Never you mind; it's a grape, and you need to have some. It doesn't taste like pinot, but it's comparable in terms of body & mouthfeel (ie, lighter in flavor / medium bodied). The main flavors in this one were plumb & other "magenta" fruit, baking spices, & very faint vanilla & anise. This one does not need to age more than a few years & went quite well with Mediterranean chicken pizza from Little Star.

2008 Williams Selyem Westside Road Neighbors Pinot. Uh. Mazing. One of the most fantastic pinots I've ever had. Tasty red fruit balanced with lovely baking spice all the mushroom-ey things I love about a pinot nose, and a nice, light body that makes it perfect for drinking on a hot day. If you are in Sonoma, call & make an appointment.

Finally, this was purchased on Saturday.....

because....

....yeah. The difference between 'hoarding' and 'collecting' is sometimes a matter of appropriate storage, and I'll give you one guess as to which message the cardboard box system sends.

Okay, two sentences about running: I have a very bizarre, very geographically small yet extremely painful strain to something in the general vicinity of my right adductor that's making even walking quite painful, so I haven't run a single step since last Wednesday in an attempt to let it heal (since I know trying to run even a little would just make it worse), and I am hoping against hope that a rest week four weeks out from the marathon is a better idea than trying to run through the injury. I am going to try running a few miles tomorrow and see how it goes; hopefully it will be solid enough that I can jump back into my schedule for the last three weeks.

Sigh. Anyway, I hope your training week has been better than mine. Catch you later this week!

The Pre-Marathon Crazies

With four weeks still to go, it does seem a wee bit early for that, doesn't it? (Well, I guess technically less than four at this point. I have been writing this post in 10 minute spurts for several days now, but it was still four when I started on Sunday.)

One of the things I've been talking with people in karate about lately is how our perceptions of how much we know & understand about something change as we learn more. As a blue belt (so say ~2-3 years into karate), I considered myself fairly knowledgeable and experienced in the martial arts. Sure, I was aware that there was a lot that I didn't know, but still felt like I'd learned TONS. A couple of years later as a green belt, I still recognized that I'd learned a lot, but had become significantly more aware of how much there was that I didn't yet know or understand. By the time I was a brown belt, and more knowledgable than my blue belt self by an order of magnitude, I was pretty much floored by the vastness of everything I had left to learn. Now, as a black belt, I feel like I've just barely got the basics out of the way. My current knowledge & skill is a grain of sand on the beach.

It's kind of the same way with running. After my first year or two of training for longer distances & running road races, I felt like I pretty much knew what I was doing training-wise. Several years later, I feel like I only really have a good understanding of the most basic principles, and there are a million more complex, involved pieces that completely mystify me.

That's what I've been thinking about since my long run this past Sunday. When I checked my schedule last week, my Sunday assignment was 16 miles, which made sense to me since the previous long run was my first 20-miler of the cycle. Later in the week, though, I saw that the distance for that run had been increased to 17-18. I don't know why that made me more nervous than 16, but it did. Just a little.

Circumstances going into this run could've been better. I didn't sleep well Saturday night, woke up early Sunday morning & couldn't get back to sleep, then came home after brunch with friends and crashed. I kinda-sorta woke up at 3:45 pm, didn't really want to get up, but started doing the math in my head & knew that if a long run was going to happen, it needed to happen NOW. (Thankfully it's late April & not November -- I *hate* finishing a long run in the dark.)

When I read blogs, I often get the sense that the "normal" thing is to hate speed work & adore long runs. Not me; not even close. In fact if I could magically eliminate one piece from distance training, it would be long runs. (The irony of this is not lost on me.) On Sunday it was worse than usual. Getting dressed, sun screening myself, & digging out gels kind of felt like walking to the gallows. There may or may not have been some quiet weeping. I felt tired & slightly ill as I started out, and even a few miles in, I wasn't convinced things were going to get much better. I could not have been less concerned with pace--my only goal was to maintain my usual easy effort & get the damn thing over with.

So I was kind of surprised to see that my 3rd mile, uphill & into the wind through the Panhandle, was sub-8:30, because I didn't feel like I was running all that fast & at an easy effort I usually do that section in the 8:40s or so. "Eh, I should probably try to rein it in a little," I thought to myself, considering how much farther I had to go; I have never in my life failed to negative split a long run & I was not about to start now.

A mile later, cruising through Golden Gate Park at a slightly easier, more relaxed pace, an 8:02 split popped up on my watch. For a second I was sure I must be reading it wrong. "Casual / easy" for me usually falls into the 8:30-8:50 range, maybe a little faster going downhill or with a tailwind. I still felt kind of sleepy & ill, but certainly not like I was pushing very hard. Nevertheless I knew that this was not an appropriate long run pace in any way, so I tried again to breathe deep and relax and sloooooow it down.

Mile 5: 8:10 ("Whut")

Mile 6: 8:22 ("Ok that's slightly more like it.")

Mile 7: 8:08 ({blink blink})

Mile 8: 8:10 ({face palm})

Mile 9, uphill: 7:59 ("OK SERIOUSLY???)

Don't get me wrong; I'd love to think that low eights are a responsible, sustainable long run pace for me. I would. That would be just awesome. But they aren't. 7:50-8:10 is basically my marathon goal range. My long runs should really *never* be averaging faster than 8:30ish. If I'd been consistently hitting 8:2x's at an easy pace, I would've been thinking, "Wow, this is a ridiculously fast long run!" These felt absurd, though, & had me slightly panicked.

I know there is a school of thought that says significant chunks of long runs should be done at race pace, but with one exception every person I have ever asked about it who works with competitive runners for a living has kind of given me that "Really, this again?" look & been pretty clear that they consider it a rookie mistake. A few miles here & there at race pace during your long run, fine. The last 20-25% on occasion, even--probably okay. But otherwise the consensus seems to be that the purpose of long runs is to get time on your feet & teach your body to fuel itself aerobically for longer and longer periods of time, not work on race pace. That doing all or most of long runs at race pace, although it boosts our confidence to prove to ourselves we can do it, is essentially putting your body through near-race effort every week or so & making it impossible to get the most out of the rest of your training because you just can't recover fast enough.

I wonder about this from time to time when I think back to when I was training for CIM '12. Yes, there are many reasons why I didn't have a stellar race, but I have a hunch that a too-fast 21 miler three weeks beforehand played a role in both my feeling exhausted from the very beginning and also pushing my injured foot from mildly-annoying-but-bearable into potential DNF territory. I mean, seriously -- you would never race a fast marathon, then three weeks later expect to be able to do it again even remotely as well, and that's really not all that far off from what I did.

All that in mind, I kept trying to slow it down to a pace that felt both easy effort-wise and comfortable on my body. I tried and tried and tried, but the 8:30-40ish pace that normally feels both comfortable and nicely efficient felt impossibly slow, like I was taking plodding, mincing little strides. When I didn't think about it & just tried to run at a nice, easy, comfortable pace, the numbers magically gravitated back to that way-too-fast marathon pace zone.

I'll probably slow down on the uphills, I thought. Nope.

I'll probably start to get tired towards the end & slow down a little, I thought later. I did get tired, but it didn't seem to have any noticeable effect on my pace. Usually on an easy run, even if I get going a little faster than normal, I slow down again once I get back into my neighborhood & have to deal with lights, pedestrians, dogs, etc. But even that last mile was faster than I think I've ever run it (with the exception of a couple of ill-advised tempo runs. Don't ever try to do tempo miles in the Mission / Castro / Noe Valley).

Yes, I was tired after. But I'm tired after even a slow long run; that's just how long runs work. In addition to feeling tired, though, I also finished feeling strong, which is rare for me post-long run. I could feel my legs. My feet weren't throbbing. My form felt good. Usually I have jello-legs & just want to go sit in an ice bath with a beer.

Before I discovered regular-people running blogs, I used to read Coach Jenny's blog at Runners World fairly frequently, where I learned a lot of the basic principles of distance training. In response to the recent spike in interest in the Boston Marathon, she wrote a post last week entitled "How to Qualify for the Boston Marathon." There's probably not much on it that would surprise most folks who have been doing this a while, but one quote in particular stuck out for me:

"American 50K record holder Josh Cox said it best when I asked him how he trained to break the 50K world record: 'It takes years of training to race at your peak. The marathon itself takes years and years of training to perform your best. You’re not racing off the last six months of preparation. You’re racing on the foundation that was built over many years of training. It’s the cumulative effect that allows me to continue to perform stronger for longer.' "

I'd never thought about it before, but it makes total sense. My three marathon cycles have started more or less from the same spot fitness-wise and included about the same amount and type of training, but with each successive one I've found myself magically able to run longer, stronger, and faster when it comes to long runs, and feeling less and less like death after. Clearly something cumulative is going on, even without dramatically changing my training, or starting the cycle off in particularly better shape.

Or I was just hopelessly out of touch with my effort level & running way too fast.

Or I've peaked 4 weeks early, ran too fast on Sunday, & it's all down here from here.

Or I've made some kind of insane quantum leap of fitness and/or genetic make-up in the space of a couple of weeks & should obviously shoot for a 7:40 pace on race day.

Orrrrr the night before the marathon I should clearly stay up late, barely sleep, & have a giant brunch right before the race.

Yep. Probably that.

See what I mean about feeling completely clueless?

Obviously I'm hoping it's the first. I know I'm approaching the most critical part of marathon training -- that period where there isn't a ton you can do to get faster, but there is still AMPLE time and opportunity to screw things up by overtraining or getting hurt.

Or go crazy worrying about it.

Always professional.

I Pass Myself Off As A Mother

A few weeks back, Cathryn pinged me about a reading / book signing at Sports Basement Presidio by The Mother Runners Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea, who you might know for their books Run Like A Mother & Train Like A Mother. It sounded awesome (read: wine, cheese, discounts, freebies, & socializing with other lady runners), but I wasn't sure at first whether non-mothers were invited. Cathryn assured me that mothering something (pets, boyfriends, plants, etc.) totally qualified, so I signed up (though I am the paranoid type & didn't want to be called out as a fraud, so I totally brought pictures of my nephew & prepared a back story just in case anyone questioned my legitimacy).

I had an awesome time! First, because I got to hang out with Cathryn in a non-race setting. We both looked so cute and non-sweaty that we took a few seconds to recognize each other. (That was pretty funny.) Second, I got to meet Aleks, which was awesome because meeting local run-bloggers is one of my favorite things in life. (If you need some tips for your first triathlon, Aleks has a few for you here!).

Me, Cathryn, & Aleks. Thanks to Cathryn for the photo!

Third, we got to hear Dimity & Sarah read from their books. I haven't read them, but from what I learned at this event, you probably don't necessarily need to be a mother to get something out of them. Part of the idea behind the Mother-Runner books is figuring out how to fit running / training / racing around all the other things you do in your busy life without losing your friends / job / relationship / sanity, so you could potentially read the titles as "Run / Train Like An Insanely Busy Person" & 90% of it would be just as applicable.

Dimity & Sarah reading

Fourth, everyone who attended got a sweet goody bag.

Everyone loves free stuff!!

There were also a bunch of raffles for running gear & gift certificates. Hellz yeah, Sports Basement! You are awesome. I will totally be at whatever book signing you host next.

Also, hey, I've been running lately! I'm a bit behind with blogging right now but here is how the week before last played out:

Grand Total: 48.3 miles

* 24 easy
* 4.3 tempo
* 20 long

Lots of lunch time meetings / working from home last week, so it was pretty much a yoga / Pilates / strength work fail. Hey, at least I got the miles in.

Monday 4/15: Karate. My first class as a shodan, which was freaking WEIRD AS HELL.

Tuesday 4/16: 6 easy. This day was supposed to be a track workout, but my legs were still too busted from the testing, so I just did some easy miles around Golden Gate Park.

Wednesday 4/17: 4 easy + karate. I was still kind of tired, so this ended up being a slow one. But hey, miles.

Thursday 4/18: 6 easy. "Hey, it's such a nice warm day! I've heard the Pure line works great sockless. Maybe I'll give that a try!" #fail #blistercity #trustissues

Friday 4/19: 2 warm up; 2 x (2 @ LT pace / 3:00 jog); 2 cool down. Seriously -- I just don't understand why tempo runs always end up feeling easier than my so-called "easy" runs (which are inevitably the hardest of the bunch).

Saturday 4/20: 4 easy. Kept it short & easy the day before my longest run of the year so far. Yet another unbelievably gorgeous day in the city.

Sunday 4/21: Off to Calistoga! 6.45 easy; 13.1 race; .45 easy. You can read about this one here.

Originally my marathon plan had me peaking in the low sixties, but with the testing & a few days out of town that resulted in missing two long runs, it's been revised downward a bit. That means that at 48.3, that week (4/15-4/21) was my highest yet. I was fully prepared to be wiped out going into this previous week (4/22-4/28) & have tired heavy legs, but was surprised to find that I actually felt great outside of a few minor aches & pains that have mostly resolved themselves. If all goes according to plan, this coming week will be my peak mileage.

Eventually I'll get around to recapping this last week....I hope.....:P

Congratulations to all you Big Sur / Eugene / Nike Women's DC finishers out there (and any others I don't know about)! Hopefully I will get some time this weekend to read all about your amazing exploits. :)

"Race" Report: Napa Valley Silverado Half Marathon

I suppose this is technically a race report, since it does in fact give an account of a race that I happened to run in. When I looked back over my April mileage, though, I knew that really racing--ie, tapering, running at 95-100%, & recovering--would cost me miles that I very much needed five weeks before Ojai, even if I did run extra before or after to make it a decent long run.

So I sighed & let the race dreams go. Instead I ran actual mileage through the end of the week, & plotted to arrive in Calistoga super-early & jog 6.9 easy miles beforehand. For the actual race, my goal was to run at somewhere between long run & marathon goal pace, with maybe a few marathon pace miles thrown in at the end if I could manage it, but not so hard that I would need more than a day to recover.

The nice thing about this time of year was that it was light by six-ish, so when I arrived at Calistoga High School around 6:30 it was bright & cool & perfect for running. Alas, between parking, figuring out where to go, checking in, finding the bathrooms, sunscreening / bodygliding myself, etc., it was 6:50 by the time I finally got started. I just figured I'd get in as many easy miles as I could before the 8:00 start, & if I had to do a little cool down after the race to get to twenty, that was fine.

The sidewalks of Calistoga were lovely for running--flat, wide, & with little traffic & few lights. My legs felt tired but loose and free of aches & pains, and they warmed up a little as I went. My first mile was 9:46, which isn't unusual for my first mile on any given run, & by the second mile my pace had dropped to 9:09. A few miles in, my "easy" pace usually drops to 8:30 or 8:40 & stays more or less in that range unless I push it, but on Sunday that didn't really happen; my splits stayed pretty much between 8:50-9:10 for those pre-race miles. I felt good & really only cared about getting the distance in, though, so I didn't dwell on my pace too much.

Beautiful day in Calistoga!

By the time I made my way over to the start, my watch showed 6.45 miles. As much as I'd wanted the finish line to actually be the end of my run today, I figured I could probably manage half a mile post-race. I imagined I would probably be running ~8:45ish miles during the race, but if my body was feeling happier with 9:00-9:15s, I didn't want to get sucked into running faster than that by the people around me, so I lined up pretty much at the back of the pack & figured I could just work my way up as I felt like it.

Which was, um, a big mistake. A lot of people were walking, or forming great walls of bodies curb-to-curb at a 12:00 pace that it was impossible to get through or around (which is completely fine, don't get me wrong; this was entirely my fault for not lining up in the right spot). I half-jogged, half-speed walked a good portion of that first mile in an effort to get into a spot where I actually had room to move at a comfortable pace; in the second or third mile I settled in with people running in the 8:30-9:00 range, which felt about right.

How much am I *loving* the outfit of the woman behind me?? HERE'S TO YOU MADAME. (There were also cow-print compression tights at this race, FYI.)

I glanced at my watch now & then out of curiosity but pretty much ignored the splits and just ran by effort, trying to do my usual don't-push-but-don't-dawdle long run thing. Most of the time this was fine, but there were a few short, steep rollers from time to time that felt significantly harder than I thought they should. As the miles went by the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky, and by mile five or so we had full, direct sun, no breeze to speak of, and only very occasional shade (which made the same rollers on the return trip OMG soooooo much fun.) (JK, they pretty much sucked.)

There weren't really reliable mile markers on the course, just the occasional number taped onto the surface of the road (I recall 2, 7, & 10 in particular, but that's all), & since I'd started the race with 6.45 already on my watch, most of the time I didn't really know or care where I was on the course except in a very general sense (apparently running interferes with my ability to do mental math with decimals). Physically I felt strong at the turnaround (so ~13 for me)--I was holding a steady pace, still managing good form (as far as I could tell), & still blessedly free of aches & pains. Between the heat and the constant rollers, though, I can't say I was particularly excited about running 7 more miles & really just would've preferred to be done.

(Hey, welcome to marathon training! said part of my brain snarkily in response to that thought. Because no one *ever* felt that way at mile 22. But seriously; suck it up.)

I thought that I would maybe take stock at around mile 9-10ish (so 17ish for me), & if I felt like I could pull it off comfortably, try to run the rest of the race around marathon goal pace (vaguely between 7:50 & 8:10). When I got to that point, though, the idea seemed laughable. There was just no way I could run faster than I already was without going into race effort-mode, which would require recovery days I did not intend to take. Not today, not with this heat & all these rollers & at the end of my highest mileage week in a good while. But then I randomly glanced down at my watch & realized I was running...7:5x. With only a little bit of extra effort.

Well okay then, I thought, & decided I could at least attempt to maintain something right around 8:00/mile. I wasn't willing to go balls to the wall for it (after all, I have other runs to do this week), but I have never attempted to run marathon pace at the end of a long run and the end of a long week & I figured it might be good for me to get that feeling into my body & convince myself that it could be done.

For a while it was doable, but tough. I didn't let myself run hard enough to breath hard--just a little bit of easy pushing. Once I was close enough to the finish that I recognized where I was, it got a lot easier, I guess because my brain knew exactly how far I had left to go & wasn't worried about conserving energy. At this point I had targets a-plenty & pulled myself hand-over-fist through the finish by picking them off one at a time. I think that helped make up for the fact that I didn't get to "race" race this one & threw a tiny little bone to my competitive side.

There was a mix up with my bib & I had to get a new number assigned right before the race so I'm not currently listed in the official results, but based on my gun time & how long it took for me to cross the starting mat, my guess is that I came in right around 1:49:30 or so (but who's counting). Afterward I grabbed my swag, jogged another .45 to make it an even 20, & called it a morning. (Also, while I was gathering my stuff up to leave, I got to meet Janet, which is the first time I've had someone I don't know recognize me from this blog, so that was neat, especially since she's running Ojai next month. Hi Janet! :) )

PRO: 16 miles into my day & I still managed to smile at a photographer. CON: As I have mentioned before, gels in the zipper pocket of the Oiselles will totally make you look like you have a horrifying butt tumor.

Funny; I was so preoccupied with post-race stuff that for a while it didn't occur to me that I felt...well...kind of human, which is not a state I usually associate with runs that start with a 2. When I thought back about it, I realized I'd never gotten that dead-legs feeling I nearly always have towards the ends of marathons & long runs, & nothing was threatening to cramp up if I so much as looked at it funny. Even my right hip felt good. For the most part it's fine these days, but 18+ milers still usually leave it a bit sore & complain-ey. Not this time; not a peep. A day later, I'm not even sore.

It was also kind of cool to realize that I'd actually managed to speed up after many many miles of faster-than-easy-pace running--not because my legs felt fresh (they never felt fresh, not even when I first started), but because they'd found a way to push harder and give more when they were already tired. Which I think is the whole point of marathon training. What you can do on springy, peppy legs is sort of irrelevant once you get to mile 22 because no one has peppy legs at mile 22. What matters is what you can make them do once they're exhausted.

Finally, in spite of the fact that I probably wouldn't have paid for it if I'd thought through my April schedule a little more smartly, I'm actually glad this run worked out the way it did. It gave me a chance to do a long run actually in marathon mode--wearing marathon gear, doing marathon fueling, & just generally being in a race environment with more than 13 miles on my legs. Even though I was only running at goal pace for the last few miles, having a kind of "dress rehearsal" gave me extra confidence in a way that the long runs I do casually around the city never have.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*LOGISTICAL STUFF~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Location: Calistoga, CA

Date: Late April (April 21, 2013 this year)

Price: When I signed up for it in early March the half was $80, & went up to $90 on April 1, but I don't know whether it was cheaper than that before (the website doesn't say). Yes, this is pricier than I'm usually willing to pay for a half, but back when I signed up for it, I really, REALLY wanted to race in April, & this was the only free weekend I had, so I paid a premium for that. The 5K was $40 & didn't change on April 1. $20 for under 17s.

Deadlines/sellout factor: I'm pretty sure there were were still spots available in both distances on race morning

Field Size: Pretty small -- 609 in the half & 107 in the 5K.

The Expo: No expo. Also, they mail the in-state bibs. Let me say that again - THEY MAIL THE IN-STATE BIBS!! I could totally {heart} Enviro-Sports based on that fact alone. I ended up getting a hotel room just because I wanted to get there early to do my extra miles & didn't want to have to leave San Francisco at 4:30 am, but knowing I could have, that I didn't have to get a hotel room & miss a perfectly good evening at home in order to get to an expo by 4 or 5pm gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

The Course:

The course starts on the Calistoga High School track & is out-and-back mostly along Silverado Trail (which I think is also part of the Napa Valley Marathon Course?). Like I mentioned, it's not what I would call "hilly" but definitely has a few rollers here & there that take a bit of extra effort (and probably more today because of the warm weather). I think the road was mostly closed to traffic for the race, but a couple of (very careful & slow moving) cars did make their way through (guessing those were people who lived or worked right off the road & had to get through). There was shade in places, but also a lot of fully exposed stretches. The road is also noticeably canted, which I've heard from friends who have run NVM. It mildly annoyed me in a few spots (honestly, the first time I've ever even noticed road canting in a race), but not to the extent that I'd say it interfered with my running in any way. (But I know this can be an issue for people who have had IT band issues.)

Why does it always feel so much harder than it looks on the elevation profile??

According to the website, aid stations with water & Gatorade were at 1.9, 3.8, 5.7, 7.3, 9.2 and 11.1 (so 3 total), which sounds about right. (One of them was tended by a local Girls on the Run chapter, which was just about the most adorable thing you ever saw.) To be honest, as warm out as it was today, I would've loved an extra one spread in there somewhere & was glad I carried my own bottle, but race volunteers don't exactly grow on trees so what can you do. For what it's worth, my watch read 6.45 at the start & 19.55 at the finish (which I will choose to interpret as meaning my tangent-running is in reasonably good shape, because that's what it makes me happy to believe).

Finish line on the Calistoga High School track

Staging:

Like I said before, the race starts & finishes on the Calistoga High School track & is staged in the school quad area overlooking the baseball diamond. Pretty much everything is right in that little area, which is nice. I have only two small quibbles with the staging. 1) There weren't many port-a-potties, & the lines were still kind of long just a few minutes before the half, which delayed the start a few minutes. So it might be worth investing in a few more of those. 2) If possible, it would be great to have water & Gatorade at the finish chute. As it was, you had to walk maybe 50 yards or so from the finish line on the track, and I'm sure we can all agree that that's kind of the last thing you want to do after racing a half.

The blue canopies are where the water & Gatorade was. Check-in & race shirts were up on the patio area under the turquoise gable. The track is out to the left, with the start / finish behind & slightly left of where I was standing.

Gear check was on the grassy area by the quad -- basically a self-serve setup where you put your stuff in a plastic garbage back, write your number on it in Sharpie, & hand it to the volunteers. If you got there early (like I did), you could actually park in one of the small number of spaces in the school lot, or on the street right by it. Otherwise, there was copious overflow parking ~2 blocks from the school.

Swag:

Classy, right?

A logo cotton tee & a nice medal. Back in my days of road racing naïveté I would have totally moaned & groaned about paying $80 for a race & getting a cotton shirt, but these days frankly I have race tees of all manner of fabrics coming out my ears so I just can't get too worked up over that one way or another.

I kind of like the simplistic, old-school styling of the medal. I feel like medals these days are quickly approaching some kind of singularity in terms of their size & ridiculousness, & I really do wish more races would just do a handsome, stamped metal coin of reasonable size like this one. Just a nice little memento. (I mean Jesus Christ, it's a race medal, not a freaking Christmas tree ornament. Lest we forget, we are finishing races, not descending into Hades to rescue blind orphans with our hands tied behind our backs.)

And naturally, as befits any self-respecting wine country race, age group winners (3 deep in five year increments) walked away with bottles from local wineries. Which I can always get behind.

Overall Assessment:

Personally, I enjoyed this race & thought it was well-done for the most part. Sure, there are a few logistical things I might change (more potties, water/Gatorade at the finish, consistent & visible mile markers), but it was well-organized & the course was kind of a nice level of challenging and I think it would be a fun one to race for real.

What would probably hold me back is the cost. I know some people would say that for a cotton tee, a non-fancy medal, & no rock bands, $80 is kind of steep, but I don't actually care about any of that--I just have a hard time justifying more than $60ish to run 13.1 miles, period. (They do have an elite program with complimentary registration, but for open women the qualifying time is 1:25, so I'm a looooooong way from being able to take advantage of that.) Still, I had a great time & I'm glad the scheduling with my 20 miler worked out the way it did. :)