First, I wanted to thank everyone for their warm, supportive thoughts on my last post - both in comments and by e-mail. I apologize for the enigmatic post... I needed an outlet but feel I cannot divulge details that concern someone other than myself in a public forum so I will leave it at that. But I do thank you all for your thoughts.
So, I tried to get my head together for a work-out today. Not surpringly, my running has been lackluster and random as of late. My streak ended the day after I wrote the post about my streak. I found that commiting to running every day made running so chore-like and unpleasant that I grew to dislike it. Not a good thing to say the least. Also I was having trouble keeping the hard days hard and the easy days easy because on those days when I was running the minimum just to say I had run, I would tend to do it as fast as possible just to get it over with so my "easy days" were a 6 km tempo. All in all, 17 days. Took one day off and felt immediately rejuvenated.
Today I actually e-mailed one of my running buddies to tell them what work-out I was doing just so I would feel accountable to someone (there are disadvantages to being self-coached). She kindly suggested I test her after every interval with my time. While I felt someone pathetic to need this kind of monitoring, the gesture on her part really got me to commit and I so much appreciated her observance. Amazing how having an observer can make a difference...
So this post is called a taste of my own medicine because I have been recommending this work-out to various people in the past few years but I have not done it myself for a long time. The concept is that one does a warm-up followed by a tempo run to increase the workload a bit before the intervals so that each interval is "worth" a little bit more. Mmmmonyka has done many of these in the past few years but I had not done one in probably over five years (do as I say...). Anyway I planned:
20 minute warm-up
3 km tempo
5-6 X 800 m
cool-down
I actually did:
20 minute warm-up
3 km tempo in 12:06 (tempo pace used to be 3:50... sigh)
7 X 800 m (was super pleased I got in an extra interval, after four my friend texted me and said "commit to doing 7 so you can bow out at 6" and so I committed to doing 7... and actually did them). Times were not stellar but better than anything lately: 2:52, 2:49, 2:48, 2:47, 2:46, 2:52, 2:48.
Based on this, I think I am probably in about 10:45 shape for 3000 m which might be my next race depending on what kind of mental state I am in on race day. On the other hand, I also found this random marathon on the web the other day. It looks like everything a marathon should not be: cold, windy, monotonous course, no spectators, not enough runners to make a decent pack (typically fewer than 100 finishers). I'm thinking of going... I could actually get up super early (4.30 am), drive to Albany (NY) run the marathon and be back the same day. It would be exhausting but definitely memory making... we'll see.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Anatomy of bad news
I hear the news and there is extreme fatigue. I despertately need to escape into sleep.
Shame. Shame that I ever thought I had experienced bad news before. I listen to a fellow mom discuss behavioral problems of her toddler and wonder how she can possibly think this is a real problem. I think of this post and cringe. I wonder how I will ever again be empathetic towards the daily problems of others; this has raised the bar permanently. Relativism. It has come to chew my ass off, big time.
It takes a long time to process this news. I digest it in small, bite-sized pieces as I do what must be done: change the baby, clothe the toddler, make baby purree, argue over how much halloween may be consumed per day. The ragged edge of the news is slowly worn smooth by the normalcy of the never-ending, daily needs of our household. With the normalcy returns the ablility to take a deep breath, to run up a hill without my throat constricting, to actually hear what others are saying but then, with the normalcy comes panic. Panic and guilt. Life should NOT be normal because with normalcy comes acceptance and we cannot accept. We must fight. Fight? Can this be fought? We don't know.
The news marches in incrementally; a piece of concrete information provided, some tenuous research done. My brain frantically seeks the silver lining. I find a few "but, at leasts". I wonder how real these fragments of silver lining are. Can this be fought? Of course it can. How do we fight? By being supportive without stripping independence. By showing love. By seeking out all the information available. By being a team. By sharing optimism. By creating safe space to allow whatever needs to be said to be said. By being creative. By being very present.
Shame. Shame that I ever thought I had experienced bad news before. I listen to a fellow mom discuss behavioral problems of her toddler and wonder how she can possibly think this is a real problem. I think of this post and cringe. I wonder how I will ever again be empathetic towards the daily problems of others; this has raised the bar permanently. Relativism. It has come to chew my ass off, big time.
It takes a long time to process this news. I digest it in small, bite-sized pieces as I do what must be done: change the baby, clothe the toddler, make baby purree, argue over how much halloween may be consumed per day. The ragged edge of the news is slowly worn smooth by the normalcy of the never-ending, daily needs of our household. With the normalcy returns the ablility to take a deep breath, to run up a hill without my throat constricting, to actually hear what others are saying but then, with the normalcy comes panic. Panic and guilt. Life should NOT be normal because with normalcy comes acceptance and we cannot accept. We must fight. Fight? Can this be fought? We don't know.
The news marches in incrementally; a piece of concrete information provided, some tenuous research done. My brain frantically seeks the silver lining. I find a few "but, at leasts". I wonder how real these fragments of silver lining are. Can this be fought? Of course it can. How do we fight? By being supportive without stripping independence. By showing love. By seeking out all the information available. By being a team. By sharing optimism. By creating safe space to allow whatever needs to be said to be said. By being creative. By being very present.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Streaking
Given my readership, I am sure no one thought of this sort of streaking when they read the title:
Undoubtedly everyone's minds immediately jumped to running streak i.e. the practice of running every day for an undetermined number of days in a row where a run must conform to a minimum distance or time determined by the "streaker". If I am not mistaken there is an official society for streakers and I believe their minimum is a mile (too lazy to google).
It may surprise some that prior to this "streak" (I put it in quotes because I am only on day 16 which some people would not even consider a "streak" but rather just a regular block of training), anyway prior to this "streak" the most days I had ever run in a row was 6. I am a big believer in the hard/easy principle. I run my hard days very hard and my easy days are necessarily very easy and off in order to allow for the hard days to be hard. With the goals I have had over the past few years i.e. run as fast as possible over distances between 3 km - marathon, rest days to the tune of 1-2 per week are essential, this is even more true at 38 than it was 10 years ago.
Streaking, I think, accomplishes one goal only and that is that is allows the streaker to run many consecutive days in a row. In other words it is a means to its own end and is not conducive allowing runners to reach other more constructive goals. It can lead to bad decisions and obsessive compulsive behavior. Nonetheless, I am trying it for a few reasons. First, I have no serious competitive goals for the next little while. I may do two indoor 3000 m races in December but with no serious ambitions. Also, I have never streaked before so I am curious to see how long I can go and what effects it has one my person and my body. The last reason is personal and in the category of things that I don't blog about but let's say even an amateur psychologist would realize that in the face of a serious, bad thing that I cannot control it is soothing to have something fairly benign over which I do have control.
So here I am on day 16 of my streak. My rule is that for a run to count it must be at least 30 minutes or 6 km.
It may surprise some that prior to this "streak" (I put it in quotes because I am only on day 16 which some people would not even consider a "streak" but rather just a regular block of training), anyway prior to this "streak" the most days I had ever run in a row was 6. I am a big believer in the hard/easy principle. I run my hard days very hard and my easy days are necessarily very easy and off in order to allow for the hard days to be hard. With the goals I have had over the past few years i.e. run as fast as possible over distances between 3 km - marathon, rest days to the tune of 1-2 per week are essential, this is even more true at 38 than it was 10 years ago.
Streaking, I think, accomplishes one goal only and that is that is allows the streaker to run many consecutive days in a row. In other words it is a means to its own end and is not conducive allowing runners to reach other more constructive goals. It can lead to bad decisions and obsessive compulsive behavior. Nonetheless, I am trying it for a few reasons. First, I have no serious competitive goals for the next little while. I may do two indoor 3000 m races in December but with no serious ambitions. Also, I have never streaked before so I am curious to see how long I can go and what effects it has one my person and my body. The last reason is personal and in the category of things that I don't blog about but let's say even an amateur psychologist would realize that in the face of a serious, bad thing that I cannot control it is soothing to have something fairly benign over which I do have control.
So here I am on day 16 of my streak. My rule is that for a run to count it must be at least 30 minutes or 6 km.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Too stunned to speak
Conversation between me and an acquaintance (also on maternity leave) yesterday via text:
her: Stevie starts daycare today, only for 2 hours. How am I going to kill two hours?
me: (assuming sarcasm) ha ha ha
her: no really, what am I supposed to do for two hours?
me: (assuming she is unfamiliar with daycare process) do you mean are you supposed to stay with Stevie at daycare?
her: no, I am supposed to leave. What do I do for two hours?
I was too stunned and disturbed to respond. Nevermind the mental imagine of "killing" two hours (as opposed to living, enjoying, relishing, making use of) but the thought that an adult could not find a way to make use of two hours was so very disturbing to me. I don't think I know a single person (okay, except her I guess) who, if gifted (yes GIFTED) two free hours IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, would not immediately think of three dozen amazing things to do and probably waste the first 20 minutes in a delirious daze wondering where to begin. This is true of everyone (ok,almost everyone) I know, parents and the child-free, runners and the more sedentary, educated and not.... what adult would not somersault backwards with joy if granted two free daytime hours?
It's the most worried I have been about someone in awhile.
her: Stevie starts daycare today, only for 2 hours. How am I going to kill two hours?
me: (assuming sarcasm) ha ha ha
her: no really, what am I supposed to do for two hours?
me: (assuming she is unfamiliar with daycare process) do you mean are you supposed to stay with Stevie at daycare?
her: no, I am supposed to leave. What do I do for two hours?
I was too stunned and disturbed to respond. Nevermind the mental imagine of "killing" two hours (as opposed to living, enjoying, relishing, making use of) but the thought that an adult could not find a way to make use of two hours was so very disturbing to me. I don't think I know a single person (okay, except her I guess) who, if gifted (yes GIFTED) two free hours IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, would not immediately think of three dozen amazing things to do and probably waste the first 20 minutes in a delirious daze wondering where to begin. This is true of everyone (ok,almost everyone) I know, parents and the child-free, runners and the more sedentary, educated and not.... what adult would not somersault backwards with joy if granted two free daytime hours?
It's the most worried I have been about someone in awhile.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Race Report: 2 of 2
As it turns out, I'm not 20 anymore and need more than 24 hours to recover between races. I felt every spike clad kilometer of yesterday's XC race in my hams, quads, calves and gluts as I warmed up this morning. Aside: how is it that swimmers can swim a half dozen events in a single day let alone week-end and do them all well without, it seems, there being any cummulative fatigue effects? Missy Franklin swam a heat of one event in the Olympics and came back twenty minutes later to win the gold medal in a final of another... at the Olympics! And while I really don't mean to compare myself to a world class athlete, I am really curious about the differences between the two sports. Swimmers can get away with doubles, triples, quadruples... they are the fertility clinic of sporting events. Why can't runners do that? I don't think there is a middle distance runner in the world who could run heats of a 1500 m and then come back 20 minutes later and win an 800 m at a world class event. Is it the lack of impact in swimming? Is it that swimmers heart rates are typically lower than runner's heart rates? Is is the duration of the events? I don't think even runners who do sprints could get away with running as many events as a typical world class swimmer swims.
Anyhow needless to say 24 hours was not enough for me to begin recovering from yesterday's effort and I found myself rapidly revising my goal during the warm-up from "break 38" to "break 40". I actually offered to run with Thing 1 to give hubby a break and to make it clear to myself that I could not really race but there were bouncy castles at this race so Thing 1 was sooooo not interested in being strapped into the Bob for 40 minutes.
It was a weird race body wise because for once my breathing was not a factor... the rate limiting stuff was all going on muscularly in the legs, they simply could not turn over and I felt like my nervous system was not firing properly. The splits tell the story, despite always feeling like I was expending the same effort on a windstill, flat course, they were all over the map:
4:03 (slowest km of the race)
3:38 (fastest km of the race)
4:03
3:54
3:43 (seriously, no change in perceived effort) - 19:22 at 5 km
3:57
3:53
3:43
3:56
3:49 - total time 38:41.
So I am officially raced out. I am good. No need to rouse the family out of bed on a week-end morning again anytime soon. No more racing until Oct. 14.
Anyhow needless to say 24 hours was not enough for me to begin recovering from yesterday's effort and I found myself rapidly revising my goal during the warm-up from "break 38" to "break 40". I actually offered to run with Thing 1 to give hubby a break and to make it clear to myself that I could not really race but there were bouncy castles at this race so Thing 1 was sooooo not interested in being strapped into the Bob for 40 minutes.
It was a weird race body wise because for once my breathing was not a factor... the rate limiting stuff was all going on muscularly in the legs, they simply could not turn over and I felt like my nervous system was not firing properly. The splits tell the story, despite always feeling like I was expending the same effort on a windstill, flat course, they were all over the map:
4:03 (slowest km of the race)
3:38 (fastest km of the race)
4:03
3:54
3:43 (seriously, no change in perceived effort) - 19:22 at 5 km
3:57
3:53
3:43
3:56
3:49 - total time 38:41.
So I am officially raced out. I am good. No need to rouse the family out of bed on a week-end morning again anytime soon. No more racing until Oct. 14.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Race Report: 1 of 2
This week-end was supposed to be my attempt to re-break 38:00 in the 10 km and by break, I mean decimate but then I got an e-mail from the coach of my club telling me he was one woman short of a competitive team at a cross country race this week-end, and our exchange went somewhat like this:
me: I can't, I'm running a 10 km.
him: Bah!
me: I already paid.
him: Can't you do both?
me: I can race twice but I can't leave hubby wrangling the kids two mornings of the week-end.
him: My wife will babysit.
me: I'll see you Saturday.
Which is how I wound up in the playground next to the cross country course at 8.30 am this morning with Thing 2 sleeping in the marsupial around my neck while Thing 1 handed me spikes to screw into my seldom used cross country spikes (because really nothing screams "I'm a great mother" like letting one's toddler handle brand new, razor sharp, 9 mm cross country spikes). Despite my documented dislike of racing cross country, anticipating the race summoned long forgotten feelings of team and togetherness though I would be meeting many of my teammates for the first time on the start line.
I used to run cross country for Mc.Gill U.nivers.ity and have raced several times on this particular, brutal 4 km cross country course which is laid out on the flanks of Mount Royal. As I walked over to the appointed meeting spot with hordes of thin, fit uni girls, their calves, temporarily tattooed flashing in the gleaming sunlight and school colours twirling in their hair who were, on average, 18 years younger than me, I couldn't help but feel way too old to be doing this again. It's hard not to feel out of place at a predominantly university cross country meet with an infant in a marsupial sucking on your boob and a toddler in a stroller.
After an argument about going to the bathroom (Thing 1 wouldn't), eating some cheese (same) and having a cookie (done!) I left Thing 1 with the gracious babysitters and headed out to warm-up with Thing 2 in the Bob. On the course I felt the ghost of myself past wooshing by me on her too-fast warm-up in a herd of identically dressed, equally frenzied girls.
After a too-strenuous warm-up (Bob in cross country course, 'nuff said) I checked back with Thing 1, donned my spikes and realized oh... my feet DID get bigger during my last pregnancy. Socks on? Socks off? Minutes ticked by... start in less than 8 minutes with the start line a solid 700 m away, uphill. Finally I left all the offspring behind and ran for it to avoid making one of my recurring anxiety dreams (missing the start of a race while I fiddle around with logistics) come true.
I met the women on my team at the start line. They were all extremely friendly, one of them also had offspring hanging out on the course (with mine in fact). We did a team cheer (team cheer... so fun!) and it was only then that I started to become cognisant of the fact that I was lined up with approximately 180 women all wearing presumably razor clad spikes all of whom would shortly be bearing down on the same 90 degree turn about 100 m in front of us. Cross country is freaking scary. So off we went, I chose a pace that was a compromise between not going out too fast and not being in the middle of a tangle of women trying to negotiate the corner.
I honestly barely remember anything else about the race. First off, 4 km is short and painful and I spent a lot of time trying not to step in a hole, trying not to get spiked and always questioning my effort and pace. I probably went out too hard (7:22 for the first 2 km) and then just tried to maintain my position in the second lap which despite slowing significantly (7:43 for the second 2 km) I managed to do. In the last 500 m I made a conscious decision to shut it down. I could see I was surrounded only by girls from two teams who were clearly going to beat us and likely by their "B" teams whose scores wouldn't even count. I promised myself I would not let more than 3 people pass me in the last 500 m. Normally no one passes me in the last 500 m of a race (and if that sounds arrogant it's only because it is) but I wanted to avoid lactic acid and give myself a small chance of running fast tomorrow.
So I finished up 23 out of 180 girls, 4th on my team running 15:07 for 4 km on a tough course. Our team placed third out of 13 teams and I think I was able to contribute a small part to that result so very satisfying. I don't think I will be running more cross country anytime soon, about which I can only say thank god! but it was a fun albeit somewhat terrifying experience. Onwards to sub-38 tomorrow!
me: I can't, I'm running a 10 km.
him: Bah!
me: I already paid.
him: Can't you do both?
me: I can race twice but I can't leave hubby wrangling the kids two mornings of the week-end.
him: My wife will babysit.
me: I'll see you Saturday.
Which is how I wound up in the playground next to the cross country course at 8.30 am this morning with Thing 2 sleeping in the marsupial around my neck while Thing 1 handed me spikes to screw into my seldom used cross country spikes (because really nothing screams "I'm a great mother" like letting one's toddler handle brand new, razor sharp, 9 mm cross country spikes). Despite my documented dislike of racing cross country, anticipating the race summoned long forgotten feelings of team and togetherness though I would be meeting many of my teammates for the first time on the start line.
I used to run cross country for Mc.Gill U.nivers.ity and have raced several times on this particular, brutal 4 km cross country course which is laid out on the flanks of Mount Royal. As I walked over to the appointed meeting spot with hordes of thin, fit uni girls, their calves, temporarily tattooed flashing in the gleaming sunlight and school colours twirling in their hair who were, on average, 18 years younger than me, I couldn't help but feel way too old to be doing this again. It's hard not to feel out of place at a predominantly university cross country meet with an infant in a marsupial sucking on your boob and a toddler in a stroller.
After an argument about going to the bathroom (Thing 1 wouldn't), eating some cheese (same) and having a cookie (done!) I left Thing 1 with the gracious babysitters and headed out to warm-up with Thing 2 in the Bob. On the course I felt the ghost of myself past wooshing by me on her too-fast warm-up in a herd of identically dressed, equally frenzied girls.
After a too-strenuous warm-up (Bob in cross country course, 'nuff said) I checked back with Thing 1, donned my spikes and realized oh... my feet DID get bigger during my last pregnancy. Socks on? Socks off? Minutes ticked by... start in less than 8 minutes with the start line a solid 700 m away, uphill. Finally I left all the offspring behind and ran for it to avoid making one of my recurring anxiety dreams (missing the start of a race while I fiddle around with logistics) come true.
I met the women on my team at the start line. They were all extremely friendly, one of them also had offspring hanging out on the course (with mine in fact). We did a team cheer (team cheer... so fun!) and it was only then that I started to become cognisant of the fact that I was lined up with approximately 180 women all wearing presumably razor clad spikes all of whom would shortly be bearing down on the same 90 degree turn about 100 m in front of us. Cross country is freaking scary. So off we went, I chose a pace that was a compromise between not going out too fast and not being in the middle of a tangle of women trying to negotiate the corner.
I honestly barely remember anything else about the race. First off, 4 km is short and painful and I spent a lot of time trying not to step in a hole, trying not to get spiked and always questioning my effort and pace. I probably went out too hard (7:22 for the first 2 km) and then just tried to maintain my position in the second lap which despite slowing significantly (7:43 for the second 2 km) I managed to do. In the last 500 m I made a conscious decision to shut it down. I could see I was surrounded only by girls from two teams who were clearly going to beat us and likely by their "B" teams whose scores wouldn't even count. I promised myself I would not let more than 3 people pass me in the last 500 m. Normally no one passes me in the last 500 m of a race (and if that sounds arrogant it's only because it is) but I wanted to avoid lactic acid and give myself a small chance of running fast tomorrow.
So I finished up 23 out of 180 girls, 4th on my team running 15:07 for 4 km on a tough course. Our team placed third out of 13 teams and I think I was able to contribute a small part to that result so very satisfying. I don't think I will be running more cross country anytime soon, about which I can only say thank god! but it was a fun albeit somewhat terrifying experience. Onwards to sub-38 tomorrow!
Thursday, September 13, 2012
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