Toe Shoes Tina: Scaredy Cat Seven

Distance:  7 mile tempo run
Pace:  8:43
Wine consumed:  1 glass of delicious malbec

I am, yet again, traveling for work (anyone sensing a pattern here?).  This time I’m in Albuquerque for two days.  Two of my Albuquerque co-workers are runners, so I asked for advice on where I could safely run a 7 mile tempo run near downtown on a Tuesday morning.  My friend, Soccer Star, does not often run in this area, so she deferred to our other co-worker, Trail Runner.  He was nice enough to go to the trouble of printing me a map (which is evidently quite hard to do because everything is meant for phone apps these days) and give me a 7ish mile route taking me up a multi-use path along the Rio Grande.  Soccer Star and Trail Runner confirmed there are no bears in Albuquerque and Trail Runner assured me that the run should be safe, so long as I finished by midnight on Friday (to which I replied if my run was not finished by midnight on Friday, I’d have bigger problems than the neighborhood).   He told me the path would be populated by bikers, runner, dog walkers, etc.  Cool.  He then mentioned that it was totally an anomaly that downtown Albuquerque had a random rape/homicide in the middle of the afternoon a couple years ago.  Not cool.  

(Not so much the ideal scenery for a solo run.)

Just after 7:30 local time, I texted Husband #1 I was running and that if he hadn’t heard from me in an hour and a half that he should be worried.  I began my route.  Thanks to Trail Runner’s clear instructions, I easily located the paved multi-use path and headed north, as directed.  Soon, I lost sight of the city and was surrounded by nature.  Beautiful nature:  trees changing into bright autumn hues, idyllic streams, ducks, all that jazz.  And the 12-foot high chain link fence topped with barbed wire that ran along the path about 30-50 feet to my right, effectively blocking me from re-entering civilization.  Oh, and contrary to Trail Runner’s representations, there were no people.  None.  For very long stretches I was the only human in sight.  A little tidbit about me – my favorite genre of books and television (other than The Biggest Loser, of course) is crime mystery/drama.  Because of this, I know that my current situation is often how such stories begin.  Now, in fairness to Trail Runner, I was probably never in any danger, but that is easy for him to say because he is (1) a faster runner and (2) a man.  I kept my music low so I could hear mysterious rustling in the bushes and ran on, imagining the parade of horribles that might wait around the next bend. 

(This was what my running route looked like.)

(Or this.)

About 2 miles into my run, a roller blader came whizzing by from the other direction.  He had a ski cap on and had his collar pulled tight up around his face (oh, yeah, it was 48 degrees and I was the only one out without my winter gear on).  A couple minutes after he passed me, I looked behind me and noticed he had turned and was coming back my way.  This was the only human I’d seen in over 5 minutes.  Oh my god, he knows we’re alone and he’s coming back to kill me!  I immediately start planning my escape.  On wheels, he is faster, but not if I go off the pavement.  I can dash through the brush and into the stream, hopefully losing him on the other side.  And he is a slight fellow, I probably have 15 pounds on him.  I can take him!  Sh#$!  What if he has a weapon?  I hadn’t considered a weapon.  I decide to flee through the stream.  I need a running partner!  Why didn’t I beg Soccer Star to run with me???  I’m ripped from my thoughts by a woman’s voice: “passing on your left.”  The roller blader whizzed by me again. This time I saw her braids and realized my would-be assailant was simply a woman out for a leisurely skate.  Crisis averted.  This is how miles 2-5.5 of my run went.  I managed to survive numerous imagined threats. 

(I evaded hidden murderers because the odds were ever in my favor.)

By the time I got back to the area where I entered the path, it was in fact populated by bikers, runners, and dog walkers.  I guess I should have started 30 minutes later.  Suddenly I wasn’t so scared and could appreciate the beauty around me.  Sadly, I was now 6 miles into a 7 mile run and did not have much time left to appreciate it.  I finished with an 8:43 pace, which was better than expected, considering the altitude.  Albuquerque is approximately a mile high, so I expected to have a hard time meeting my goal pace of 8:45.  The awesomely-named running coach, Jack Daniels, estimates that going from sea level to 5,000 feet, can increase your pace by up to 20 seconds per mile.  Considering I’d gone from 2,000 to 5,000 feet, then, it was impressive I actually beat my goal pace by a little bit and felt okay.  I’m thinking it was the adrenaline of running for my life.  Happy Halloween!

Slo Jo: Tapering for the Half

Distance: 3 miles

Pace: Easy

Wine consumed: Perhaps a bit much. It was a Monday, after all. I’m not sure what got into me.

I’m tapering for a half marathon this Sunday. It feels a little undeserved—tapering that is. I didn’t do a long run last weekend, and the weekend before that, I was goofing off doing the Bisbee Stair Climb. But if Hal Higdon says taper, I taper.

That said, for my first half marathon, I was so undertrained I didn't taper at all. I hadn't even done a 10-mile run. I'd done a 6 and a 4 the same day. I talked about tapering, and real runners mocked me and suggested that one had to actually train sufficiently to benefit from tapering. This time? They can suck it.

According to Runner’s World:

The benefits of tapering can be looked at as simply correcting the accumulated wear-and-tear of training. More specifically, it appears that tapering leads to improvements in running economy (how much oxygen you need to run at a given pace) and muscle strength. This is not surprising because the cumulative fatigue of training reduces both of those. Tapering also allows repair of the ongoing microcellular muscle damage from training and full replenishment of the glycogen stores in your muscles and liver, as well as bolstering your immune system.

Okay, all those things seem pretty good. My muscles and liver will be well oiled machines, especially after Monday's wine drinking. (Wait, is that bad for the liver? My liver seems to like wine.) I’m also eating more carbs. It’s pasta and sandwiches all week, ladies and gentlemen. It is also not, fortunately, bikini season.

(Some twirl the fork. Some don't. Don't judge.)

But hang on. Just hang on a moment. I consulted my bible, Hal Higdon’s Marathon, to provide you, Gentle Reader, with more tapering nuggets. It has five habit changes one should make to taper--and one of them gives me pause.

1. Cut total mileage.

Done. Easy.

2. Cut frequency.

Also done. Tapering is fun!

3.  Cut distance, not intensity. 

Oops. I did kind of slack today. I took Betty Bamba with me, and she was in the mood to sniff some stuff. It was like running with a 40-pound lead weight behind me. Bamba is also afraid of the following: children, lawn mowers, leaf blowers, leaves, other dogs, sprinklers, and flowing water. She ran away from one dog straight into me and then cried like I had bitten her. Comforting the dog does nothing to enhance my speed. She seems entirely unfazed by things that I’m scared of, like cars bearing down on us or menacing men wandering around the neighborhood looking for the probation office. She is much like this dog.

4. Cut the lifting.

Well, that’s easy enough. I rarely lift as it is. I shall cut from “rare” to “none.” Check.

5. Cut the calories.

Wait. Whaaaaaa?

Hal says that if you are running less, you should eat a little less. I reluctantly concede the logic in this. But he also says you can eat more than usual for the three days before the marathon. That means starting on Thursday, it is pasta and sammich time. But for now, I shall put down the fork, run less, and generally just--

That's right. It's taper time.

Toe-Shoes Tina and Slo-Jo: The Bisbee 1000 Race Report

This October, Toe Shoes Tina and Slo Jo competed in The Bisbee 1000 Stair Climb Challenge. Because they participated (in part) together, they decided to write a combined blog post.

Race Preparation

TST: After a very long work week in Chicago, I was so happy to be with Slo Jo and two other friends in Bisbee.  We rented this cute little house that was made slightly less cute by the owners’ choice in decorations.  Bugs.  Glued to the walls.  Very lifelike bugs and arachnids, if we’re being technical. 

(They look totally real, right?)

SJ: Toe Shoes Tina omitted from her description her scream of terror when she noticed the fake bugs on the walls. I went into the room and did not laugh. Well, maybe I did. Then our friend E claimed one of the fake bugs was moving, causing more terror. Toe Shoes Tina and E should not hang out together.

TST: The night before the race we tried on our German bar maid costumes that Slo Jo coordinated while I was out of town and then Slo Jo modified the costumes to fit us perfectly with the sewing kit she brought (have I mentioned she is awesome?).  I texted a picture to Husband #1 and he suggested I keep the costume for date night.  I thought (and said many times) “this will be awesome!”  The morning of the race, we drove the short 4 miles to downtown Bisbee and looked for parking.  Excited race participants streamed toward the start line.  I noticed something kind of disturbing – “uh, guys?  We appear to be the only people dressed in costumes.”  Whatever.  We rocked it.  And were photographed by many many people.  Slo Jo was even interviewed by a news journalist!

SJ: I had read about the race, and it featured a costume parade. So I talked everyone into costumes. I thought, it’s October: Oktoberfest! We will be German bar maids. Okay, so 99% of the other participants were in running gear; we immediately bonded with anyone remotely in costume at all. One couple had taken a sheer robe and nightgown set and turned it into a sort of cape; the guy said he had demanded the ruffles. He, like TST, was wearing Vibrams. 

Now, TST and I don't really mind attention, but our friend F was mildly mortified. Men kept coming up to us—four women in bar maid outfits—and asking if they could be photographed with us. We all worked on giving our petticoats a little flip for the pictures. 

The TV interview was fun, but I’m afraid my 15 minutes of fame are going to due to this exchange:

Journalist: Why do you run stairs?

Me: It’s good for the buns.

Yep, that's what I came up with. Am so proud.

The Race

TST: After participating in the “costume parade” (which was basically the 10 people in costumes standing around in line to be photographed), we lined up in our corrals.  I was in corral 2 because my friend, Jack Rabbit, warned me that the stairs clog up in the later corrals and slow you down.  Jack Rabbit, of course, was in corral 1 because she’s a rockstar.  Slo Jo and my other two housemates had decided they would take the race at a more leisurely pace, so they headed back to a higher corral.  Left by myself, I put in my headphones and got into race mode.  At some point, they announced headphones were forbidden during the Bisbee 1000.  I missed that announcement, probably because my headphones were in.   After the running of the beers (really), corral 1 took off.  I put on “Eye of the Tiger,” to which I start every race, cued up Map My Run, and toed the line. 

SJ: I was running with our friends: F, who is pregnant and worried about falling on the stairs; E, who hasn’t had a chance to work out in ages due to work; and C, who was not in a German bar maid outfit, but wore his kilt because he is a good sport. We went to the very last corral, because our primary concern was getting F through the race without incident and having fun. 

(View from Corral 9. See TST way at the front by the green and yellow arch? Wave hello!)

We had a long time to wait before getting anywhere near the start. So I chatted. I met this guy, who had an awesome T-shirt:

(Hey, he climbs for wine! Me too! I asked if I could take a picture for the blog.)

We also met lots of other people in the corral, who were clearly going to walk or take the stairs at a leisurely pace. One had had a knee operation. This was not the Corral of Overachievers, but we were a happy group. We were the Cool Corral Nine Crew.

TST: Because I’d been warned of the bottleneck at the first (of nine) stairway, my race plan was to go as fast as I could for the half mile or so to the first staircase.  This was a mistake.  In addition to that being a bad race strategy in any race, I had not realized Bisbee was almost a mile high.  Nor did I realize each staircase was approximately 5,000 stairs (or felt that way).  By stairway 4, my coffee was creeping up into my esophagus and I had to work really hard to keep it down.  When I hit 2 miles, I nearly cried because I was ready to throw up and/or pass out and was not even half way through the 4.5 mile race.  I imagined Jack Rabbit sprinting triumphantly up each staircase as I pitifully meandered up them.  And because I was in costume, I was attracting quite a bit of attention, so I felt compelled to look perky as I was dying on the inside (upon reflection, people may have been telling me to lose the headphones, but I couldn’t hear them over my music). 

SJ: We trotted down the first half mile to the first staircase. People were giving us high-fives. People kept saying, “Looking good!” or "I love your outfits!" to which C replied, “Thank you!” The Cool Corral 9 Crew was in a jolly mood. We queued at the bottom of the stairs and slowly, slowly, ascended together for each staircase. People were playing instruments for us along the way—a sort of indie Rock ’n’ Roll 5K—with a didgeridoo, a trumpet, a banjo, some guitars… It was awesome. We walked the steeper inclines to avoid F taking a pregnant tumble, and took breaks on the stairs if anyone needed one.

We also stopped for photo opps. The view was spectacular—we needed a group pic. Oh, and to talk to firemen. Slo Jo is single.

TST:  Sometime after mile 2.5ish, I was rewarded for the non-stop ascent with a gentle sloping downhill that lasted for about a mile.  It was like I’d died and gone to heaven.  I caught my breath and pushed on, in the back of my mind knowing that we were only going downhill so we could go up more stairs.  When we finally started running uphill again, “Good Vibrations” came on my iPod.  Energized by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch (yes!  I can “feel it feel it”!), I ran toward the final three staircases.  At the top of staircase 7 a group of peace loving hippies had gathered.  I am generally a huge fan of peace loving hippies.  But not when one of them is smoking weed at the top of staircase 7.  Because, really, what I needed was a contact high at that point! 

SJ: Here's my dedication to Toe-Shoes Tina: 

"Let's get to the point/ Let's roll another joint/ And let's head on down the road/ There's somewhere I got to go."

--“You Don’t Know How It Feels,” Tom Petty.

TST was smoking crack or having exercised-induced delusions, because there was no weed in evidence by the time the Cool Corral 9 Crew reached the top of staircase 7--and some members of the CC9C would probably have enjoyed it. The hippies were there with their Peace and Love signs, but even at our slow pace, we didn’t get any wafts of smoke. They liked our costumes, too, saying, "Cool, man!" C said, “Danke!”

I was feeling pretty good—my stair training had paid off, and I wasn’t hurting on the stairs or running. In fact, at one point, E and I started singing the goatherd song from The Sound of Music:

Slo-Jo: High on a hill was a lonely goatherd
E: Lay dee odl lay hee odl lay hee hoo!

Meanwhile, people were collapsing on the landings and gasping for air, but I felt like I could go forever. I got behind one super skinny ass-less woman who kept stopping abruptly, I think due to exhaustion, which is fine except that I kept nearly crashing into her. There needs to be a Corral 11 for people like her (hey, this race goes up to 11). It is entirely possible that I was in better shape than some of the other CC9C. Maybe next year I will move up to Corral 8 (the slightly less cool, but still chill, Corral).

The Finish

TST: Staircases 8 and 9 were a blur, maybe because of the weed.  More likely because my brain had less than optimal oxygen.  The race finished on a steep downhill slope, which I totally heel-striked down so I could run fast and not fall.  Woozy, I received my medal and wandered aimlessly in search of water.  Jack Rabbit popped out of nowhere, looking as fresh as a friggin’ daisy.  I was happy to hear that I had finished not far behind her.  I wanted to talk to her, but vomit was more likely to come out of my mouth than clear sentences.  I grunted that I needed water and had to keep moving so I didn’t puke. 

Several minutes later, the world stopped spinning and I kept a banana down.  I found Jack Rabbit and informed her that I was not going to be able to do the Iceman Challenge (it involves carrying 10 lbs of ice with antique tongs up yet more stairs and we had discussed doing it as a team).  I was relieved when Jack Rabbit said she wasn’t up for it either.  Evidently despite her appearance, the stairs had done a number on her as well.  We hung out in the sun while the rest of her friends and my friends finished (my costume making for some awesome tan lines).  As I cooled down, I realized my German bar maid costume was not designed to hold sweat and I smelled like a locker room.  I spent much of the rest of the day looking for Febreze, which they do not sell in Bisbee.  Anywhere.  

SJ: I remembered one thing from finishing my half, where a friend snapped my picture. I was in pain and, as a result, my posture looks like I belong in one of those evolution illustrations:

(I'd be second from the left. Not the guy carrying the football, who clearly represents evolution at its zenith.)

So this time, I remembered to keep my back straight, put my arms in the air, and smile! Yay!

We found TST and she told us of her awesome time. Our time was less awesome, but we didn’t work very hard. Sometimes you have to take time to smell the roses—or flirt with firemen. Or take a photo mid-race. Or admire this:

(Don't worry. The mortician can fix that.)

TST: All in all, the race was a lot tougher than I thought it would be, but was totally awesome too.  I finished in the top 10 of my division, which was a great surprise.  I will definitely do it again.  Slo Jo has already found us a house for next year and is talking costumes.  I will pack my Febreze.     

SJ: Aufedersein! 

Toe-Shoes Tina: TST and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Run

Distance:  5 miles
Pace:  8:21
Wine consumption:  None (my liver needs a break after Chicago)
Temperature at start:  87 degrees.  Yes.  In October.
Complaints per mile:  17

I am reluctant to give up boxing, particularly after not boxing while traveling all last week.  My solution is to keep going to my 6:30 am boxing class and then do my speed and tempo workouts at night.  This worked out beautifully on Monday.  I had taken Sunday off from cardio (did some weights) and Monday was relatively cool.  Daughter #1 had soccer practice in the grassy center of a track, so I logged 6 x 800 meters at a 7:00 pace.  Never in a million years did I believe I could run that fast.  Holy crap!  Given my good luck, I decided to shift Wednesday's tempo run to Wednesday night so I could still go to boxing in the morning.  Big mistake.

On Wednesday morning, I explained my plan to my trainer, Pinch Your Butt (a reference to proper gluteal engagement and not goosing).  He told me that if I continued to double up, I would hurt myself.  So the story that follows may be psychosomatic, but I don't think so.  Husband #1 had a training appointment with PYB after work on Wednesday, so I planned to run 5 miles when he got home.  The high was 97 degrees.  Ugh.  Even though the weather is not typical October weather, the sun still sets at an October-typical early hour, so I couldn't push my run too late in the hopes of cooler temperatures.  I started at around 6:45 pm and it was 87 degrees.  The air felt damp and hot.  I'd been riding a little high on paces I never expected from myself.  Well, that ego boost was undone last night.  I struggled mightily to maintain an 8:30 pace for the first mile.  My calves hurt, my ankles hurt, my shirt was riding up and my running skirt was riding down.  I couldn't breathe.  And I still had 4 miles to go.  Ugh.

(This was me running on Wednesday night.  Inside my head, anyway.  That diaper may have been more comfortable than my running skirt.)

I was wearing a neon yellow shirt, which made me vaguely afraid that I was a huge visible target to unsavory individuals.  I initially questioned whether I should wear something dark to hide from murderers at the expense of being less visible to cars.  After being nearly hit by cars 3 times and chased by no ax murderers, I can say that bright yellow was the better option.  I managed to heave myself through the last 4 miles, at no point experiencing anything close to endorphins or a runner's high.  I returned home hot and panting and stiffening up already.  Thanks to the heat and sweating, I also had a huge blister on the bottom of my big toe and chafing in, um, sensitive areas.  After a quick shower, I spent 10 minutes rolling out various leg muscles, which was painful (do you hear that, Pinch Your Butt???  I'm rolling!).

This little SOB looks innocent, but inflicts so much more pain than you ever thought something made of foam could possibly inflict!  Also, IT bands:  why do I need them?

I limped off to bed for restorative sleep.  Sleep was not restorative enough.  It took me approximately 3 minutes of Pirate's kickboxing class this morning to realize I was not up for it today.  I pushed through anyway, but it hurt.  I was slow and grumpy, both very uncharacteristic for me when there is a heavy bag to hit.  At one point, Jack Rabbit told me to stop friggin' complaining already.  Realizing I'd been a negative Nellie, I told her I'd shut my mouth and that she could hit me if I complained again (I clarified that random bursts of profanity are not complaints).  To my credit, she only got to hit me once, and the "complaint" was debatable (I was merely pointing out that class has run past the allotted time).

Slo Jo: Feeling the Need. The Need for Speed.

Distance: 6 miles
Pace: Alternating basically 10s and 12s
Wine: None last night, but did have giant goblet of wine of unknown Box Label Saturday night

We are going to post soon about the Bisbee 1000 stair climb. As a brief preview, let me just say that Slo Jo did not exactly give the race her all. As a result, I was feeling moderately guilty about not having done my long run, or a hard run, over the weekend, and I wanted to train this morning.

Coach sent me a text saying if he were me, he'd do 12 miles alternating one fast, one jog. Coach is not me. Coach is training for Ironman.

(So this is what they wear to race. I would have thought bike shorts. That red suit is probably moisture-wicking.)

I am training, on the other hand, for one-third of an Ironman--a mere marathon. There is no long swim or billion-mile bike ride beforehand. I am just a normal desk jockey hoping for a 26.2 sticker to put on my car.

(This is what I'm gonna look like. Just need to keep training. Where do I buy these outfits? Sports Authority?)

That said, my friend L wants to do a sprint triathlon soon. I'm totally on board so long as the chlorine from the pool does not destroy my hair. Am still a girl.

(Green hair might match my green brief-shorts once I figure out where to get them, though.)

So I did not do 12, in part because I got a late start and I needed to get to work at some point. I did six. I loped along at about a 12-mile warm-up pace, then ran as hard as I could for the next mile: 9:45! Then I jogged along again at a 12-mile pace, marveling at how easy it was, then did a 9:30 mile.

BOOOOOOOM. 

9:30!! I was pretty pleased with that one. It is basically my fastest mile ever since, well, childhood I guess. I think there was a brief period when I was 13 or so when I suddenly got fast, and then it disappeared again. Must have been a hormone surge.

Then I did another 12-er, and the last one was 10. I even passed somebody. I just picked them off and left them EATING MY DUST. Yes, they did not know I was racing them. Irrelevant.

SUCH a good workout. I felt like I had worked hard, trained myself to run faster, and burned some calories. Feeling ready for the half marathon Nov. 3!

Toe-Shoes Tina: My First Long Run (My Toe Shoes Are Bored)

Distance:  10 miles (woot woot!) 

Pace:  9:26/mile

Wine: Not enough to be hung over, but more than one typically consumes before a 10 mile run

I am in Chicago for not one, not two, but three different conferences this week.  I am speaking at one of them.  Lucky for me, my first long training run falls this very same week.  At least the weather will be good.  Here's my dirty little dark secret -- I've never run 10 miles outside of a race setting.  Sure, I told people my longest run when training for the half was 10 miles, but I was counting my distance by time (this was pre-MapMyRun) and assuming a 10 minute pace.  I was probably running much closer to 11, so I did not actually run 10 miles until race day.  And 10 miles, even during a race, sucks.  It is painful and I always want to quit with every step.  This is why I secretly doubt my ability to run a marathon.  

Needless to say, I was nervous about running 10 miles alone, mid-week in a strange city on the really terrible sleep schedule that accompanies networking conferences.  I was also fairly dehydrated.  I bought a giant water and set off.  My run was Wednesday.  I spent Monday and Tuesday quizzing the locals where I could run a 10-mile route without getting shot or stabbed.  To a person, they recommended I run along Lake Michigan.  It was a good recommendation, I picked up the Lakeside Trail at Navy Pier and headed north.  I was neither stabbed nor shot, and as a bonus, they had restrooms throughout the run.  

(Lake Michigan is pretty.  This was actually taken from Lincoln Park and that is not the Sears Tower in the background as I later found out by posting a picture on Facebook proclaiming that it was.)  

As you can tell by reading this blog, pacing (particularly distance pacing) is not my strong point.  So I knew that if I was to survive this run, I needed to slow down.  My first mile was 8:36.  Too fast.  I slowed down bit by bit until I was running a 9:43 at mile 4.  This was a good pace.  It hardly felt like exercise.  It was boring, but the miles ticked away without pain or physical discomfort.  I resisted the urge to run faster so that the pace was challenging and turned around at mile 5.  This time I headed inland a bit to run through Lincoln Park.  I had the brilliant idea to play "Bleed It Out" so that I would be listening to Linkin Park in Lincoln Park and this made me giggle for a good quarter mile.  I am hilarious.  When that wore off, I thought about my upcoming speech.  I thought about work.  I thought about clothes and TV and wine and books. Oh, I need an audio book on these runs!  I composed much of this blog post in my head.  I thought about how much I missed my family.  By this time, it was 7:30 Phoenix time, so Husband #1 would be dropping the girls at school.  Why not call?  My headphones have a small speaker for talking on the phone (which is excellent when you have a touch screen and really fat cheeks that manage to send random texts while you are on the phone), so I theoretically could call them.  And I wasn't breathing hard enough to interfere with conversation.  So I called.  "Hi!  I'm almost 7 miles into a run!"  How many phone conversations start that way?  I spoke to my family for 8-9 minutes, during which time I chalked up almost another mile.  

(This is me during a long run.  My grandmother used to tell me boredom was a state of mind.  My grandmother did not run distance.)

Shortly after hanging up the phone, I hit 8 miles and still felt fresh.  No pain, no sweat, no nothing.  I'd hardly even made a dent in my water, which was quite remarkable given my initial state of hydration.  Having only 2 miles left, I decided to pick up the pace.  I dropped to 8:50 and 8:48 for the last two miles and finished strong (and also knowing there was no way I could sustain that pace long-term).  More importantly, I finished believing for the first time that my body might actually let me run 26.2.  I will just have to find a way to keep my brain awake.  

(This was my water after running 10 miles.  I may need to work on hydration.)

Slo Jo: Movin' on Up

Distance: 4.26 miles but irrelevant
Pace: Unknown but also irrelevant
Stairs: 15 sets of 46 (I counted)
Hills: Countless
Awesomeness level: Very high

BOOM!

I have some endorphins going from today's workout. First, I felt good the whole time. Second, I dominated my own PR from the last time I did this workout--and improvement feels great! Third, my knees held up! Phew!

I haven't posted about my last few runs because I've been really tired and couldn't think of anything to say. Well, I could, and that something would be "running sucks." On Wednesday, Clancy and I ran seven miles on the bridle path. Not sure why, but it was a terrible run. I know I started out too fast. I was thinking, "It's only seven, why not power through it?" Of course, that means at mile 2 I was thinking about calling the whole thing off and going back home. Even Clancy was worn out and lagging behind, and he has energy to spare.

(Okay, so this is an old picture of Clancy sleeping. But look how cute Betty Bamba was as a puppy sharing his dog bed. We should call this blog Running on Wine With Cute Dog Photos.)

After the Sucky Seven, I took a few days off. Then on Saturday, I did 14 on the bridle path with Coach and another friend, whom I will call Flash as she is super-fly fast. Flash was a sprinter in high school, and you can tell. When she runs with Coach and me, she seems like a colt that is being held back at the gate before the race. We ran a seven-mile loop back to the cars, and then Flash took off and ran another six or seven without us.

(Picture the female version of this trying to run at Slo-Jo pace.) 

Coach and I did another seven, too, only, you know, at human speed. Actually, I only did six. Recall that I only got into this madness because Toe-Shoes Tina talked me into running the relay of the half-marathon with her last January. I only had to do six miles, but I was a little undertrained for it, and I only managed to do five before my knee gave out. I made it to the relay point by lurching along like a motivated zombie.

(Post-race, it is important to re-fuel with protein.)

After recovering from the relay, I trained for the half in June--same thing. Knee gave out at mile 4...my friend's Advil and support got me through it, but it hurt. My knee recovered by July.

So on Sunday, at mile 13, my familiar adversary came back--knee pain! Coach gave me some Aleve and some advice on how I really could carry my own Aleve if I were so inclined. But it didn't help--whenever I ran, I had debilitating pain in my knee and up my right thigh. Coach had to do 16, so he went off to finish while I lurched back to the car. I wouldn't call Sunday a bad run--actually, my pace was quite good, and I felt good until my knee hurt. But I was concerned about whether the knee would hurt today.

It did not. And I felt terrific. I ran at Papago Park, which is beautiful.

(Gorgeous view from the top of the amphitheater stairs.)

I did the amphitheater stairs again. Remember my earlier post, where I only ran up them three times? I ran up them nine times. NINE TIMES.

(I was mildly surprised this woman didn't fly in from Santa Monica to photobomb me.)

I ran up that hill again and did hill repeats: nine times. Hills are so great, because when you start running flats again, it seems so easy. Then I went back to the stairs and did them another six times. I wanted nine, as nine seemed to be my number today, but I felt a little twinge in my knee and I was afraid I'd overdo it. And six, like nine, is a multiple of three. I find I do a lot of math while I run, such as trying to multiply 46 stairs by 15 sets.

In sum, the whole workout took about an hour and I got a ton of good training in. I think I am ready for the Bisbee Stair Climb Race this weekend!

Toe-Shoes Tina: It's Official, I'm In Training!

Distance: 2 miles (8 x 400 meters)
Pace:  6:58 (oops)
Wine:  1 glass of zinfandel

A perfectly normal day at the office.  I'm checking my calendar for anything due in the next week and I see it:  "speed work, 8 x 400 m."  Oh, crap.  My first official training workout is scheduled for Friday.  Frick!  It's about to get real.  Only husband #1 is out of town all weekend for a hockey tournament, so I should try to move it to Thursday when I don't have to bring the girls.  No dice.  Husband #1 has a training appointment that night (he's rehabbing after some injuries, with my trainer Pinch Your Butt, so I am loathe to interfere with that).  He does not get home until well after dark and none of the local tracks turn their lights on at night.  So, Friday then.  I plan to squeeze speed work in before daughter #1's soccer practice at 5:30 that evening.  It's gonna be tight.  But really, how long could it take me to run 400 meters 8 times?  I google 400 meters and learn it is a quarter of a mile. That means I have to run 2 miles.  That is a lot longer than I thought it was.  I need to learn metric.

I pick the girls up early-ish and head home.  I am all business in the car, instructing daughter #1 that she is to immediately change in to soccer clothes and report to the car.  Daughter #2, who is recently potty-trained (sort of) is on bathroom duty.  She must go "try" and then report to the car.  I am scary, so they are ready by 4:15.  Instead of driving to a track, I drive to the local elementary school, which has a gigantic soccer field and baseball filed surrounded by a dirt path.  I set my children roughly in the middle of it with an iPad and a soccer ball as well as strict instructions not to venture off.  I prepare to run (literally) circles around them.  According to my training plan, 400 m sprints should be 55 seconds to a minute faster than my 10K pace.  My fastest 10K was a roughly 8:35 pace, but I'm faster now.  So I use 8:30 as my 10K pace and shoot for a 7:30 pace.  Because I am not on a traditional track, I set MapMyRun for kilometers so I can see how far 400 meters is.  I remind my daughters again not to leave the soccer field and start running a large loop around them so I can keep them in sight.  I immediately realize the problem.  While it is super helpful for MapMyRun to tell me how far I've gone in kilometers, I should have realized it would also pace me in kilometers.  I don't know what 7:30/mile is in metric.  So I run my 400 meters, just to mark how far it is.  I ran it in 1:42, but I have no idea what that means (I have since learned it is a 6:54 pace).

I turn the app back to good old miles so I can track my pace.  I run my second leg.  6:15 pace.  Too fast.  Still, I recover quickly with a 10 meter walk.  I go again.  6:22.  Crap!  I evidently can't pace myself.  I ran the next three in 7:14, 7:08, and 7:00, respectively.  Still not on pace, but at least I'm over 7:00.  Then I hear "mom, I have to go potty."  It's the older daughter, so it's not an emergency.  But I still think, "well, I've done 6, that's almost 8, that's probably good enough."  Really?  Am I going to cheat on my very first official training workout?  I snap (a little harsher than I should have) "you can hold it!" and set off for my last two repeats.  7:10 and 7:27, so still faster than I should have.  But here's the thing, I recovered quickly and they did not feel that difficult.  Maybe I need to rethink my 10K time.  In any event, we were able to go back to the house so daughter #1 could use the restroom and still make it to soccer practice at 5:30 (where daughter #2 promptly had a potty accident that required a second trip home to change).  And I am officially in marathon training!

Toe-Shoes Tina: My Toe Shoes Go Swimming

Distance:  5.57 miles

Pace:  9:59/mile (there is a good reason that I was slower than normal, keep reading)

Wine:  two glasses of my new favorite zin, Four Hands “Sophisticate,” and a nightcap of random merlot

We just got back from vacation.  After years of taking my family to totally un-fun places like Paris, and San Francisco, I finally caved and took the girls to Disney Land.  This blog is about running, so I won’t rant about how I rank rampant Disney princess culture right up there with factory farming  (I’m largely organic vegetarian, but that’s a different post).  Suffice to say, I was not happy about going to Disney, let alone spending all the money it takes to go to Disney.  To make the trip more palatable, we tacked on an extra day and a half in Laguna Beach before Disney.  Now this is a vacation I can get behind.  Not only is it breathtaking, it is where I got married.  My plan was to run at Laguna and at Disney.  I did not run either day at Disney and am very disappointed in myself for it.  We stayed on the property, so we got to enter the park an hour early each day for “Magic Morning.”  Magic Morning started at 7:00 am, which did not leave me enough daylight to run beforehand.  And the hotel gym did not open until 6:00 am, so I couldn’t run on the treadmill.  A real runner would have run later in the day while the kids were napping.  But I’m not a real runner, so I just ate a churro and drank wine instead.  Anyway, enough with the negativity (all things considered, I did enjoy Disney and my daughters’ reactions made it worthwhile).  I will write about my Laguna run, because it was pretty sweet.

The temperature was mid-60s and I started on a road along the cliffs overlooking the beach.  As soon as I began, I questioned my decision to run.  I’d had a very difficult boot camp the day before during which we did weights and approximately 5 million pushups.  My pecs were so sore that the normal jiggling involved in running (I was not wearing my super-strength sport bra) actually hurt my pecs.  Well that’s something guys probably don’t have to worry about!  I sucked it up and soldiered on.  Two minutes into my run, I had another problem.  I had been playing with the “coaching” function on MapMyRun and set it for a target heart rate of 150.  The app was supposed to let me know how my heart rate compared to my goal every 2 minutes.  Except that I forgot to bring my heart rate monitor to California.  So 2 minutes into my run, I heard “heart rate, zero, you are not meeting your goal, speed up!”  Um, no crap I’m not meeting my goal, according to my heart rate, I’m dead!  Nonetheless, MapMyRun continues to notify me every two minutes that I have no heart rate and need to speed up.  A smart coach would either realize I had no HR monitor and modify accordingly or dial 9-1-1 (the app is on my phone, after all).  I couldn’t’ figure out how to change it mid-run, so after 6  minutes, I just started a new workout on the app, this time setting my coaching to a goal of 9:00 miles and notifications every 5 minutes.  Okay . . . resume. 

(My totally lame workout report from the first part of my run.  I was dead this whole time, according to my HR)

One of the things I love about Laguna is the beach sits below steep cliffs with stunning views.  It makes the beaches feel more secluded.  To access the beach, there several public stairways.   I found one and ran down it.  In Phoenix, I do not get the opportunity to run on the beach.  And my toe shoes are actually perfect for running in water because they don’t get water logged (could have done without the toe socks, though).   So I ran along the water line.  It was awesome.  I saw all kinds of neat people:  the guy with the metal detector, the elderly lady power walking barefoot in nothing but a hotel robe and swim suit, surfers, paddle boarders, swimmers (clearly people who do not watch Shark Week as much as I do).

(This was my totally amazing run.  I ran the beach all the way to that outcropping in the distance.)

I ran along the water line as far as I could (until I hit a rocky point).  It was not a straight shot.  Because I was trying to stay about ankle-deep in the water, and the water moves, I did a lot of lateral running.  I occasionally had to go bounding up the sandy slope to dodge the odd big wave.  While this was fun, it was murder for my pace.  My coach kept informing me I needed to “speed up.”  Again, the stupid coach should have accounted for the fact I was running a zig-zag pattern in wet sand.  Since I was already behind on my pace, I took some inspiration from Slo Jo and decided to run stairs to prepare for our upcoming stair run.  So every time I saw a public staircase leading to the road, I ran up it.  They were steep.  I’m sure people wondered what the hell I was doing.  In particular, there was one older gentleman who was running on the beach a little ahead of me.  I passed him.  Then I ran up the stairs and back down and ended up behind him.  I passed him again.  This happened about 5 times.  He was nice about it and simply ignored me. 

(Two of the many stair cases I ran.  I decided to take pictures from the top.  It was only a coincidence that I was able to catch my breath while doing so.)

When I got back to my original beach entry point, I ran back up the stairs and took the street back to the hotel.  The street running rehabilitated my pace somewhat.  My “coach” actually told me to slow down a couple times because I was going faster than my goal pace.  I have to admit that was pretty good for the ego.  I will focus on those beautiful words – slow down – instead of beating myself up for not running at the House of Mouse.   

(Alas, this is still not me running on the beach.  *sigh*)