Toe-Shoes Tina: Music Monday (Or . . . how embarrassing can one playlist be?)

Distance: 5 mile tempo run

Pace: 7:50 (oh hellz yeah)

Temperature:  48 degrees

Shoes!  I got new shoes!  I decided to give Newtons a try because they uniquely help you stick to a mid-foot strike.  They have rubber lugs under the ball of the foot to remind you to land there and (supposedly) to help propel you forward faster.  I tried them on last year, but ultimately went with Brooks because they were more comfy and my feet were bruised (after running 13 miles in Vibrams).  But I’ve been curious ever since.  They are the most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned, so I took a leap of faith by ordering them.  I know Brooks work for me.  I got through training and a marathon with no joint pain.  Why would I change things up now?  I shared my trepidation with Mo Jo and she pointed out that perhaps I had no joint issues – not because Brooks are magical – but because I was properly trained. Cool.  We’ll go with that.  I woke up (with no alarm) at 5:30 am on a Saturday because I was so excited to try them out. 

(Each Newton is 7.5 oz of awesomeness!)

By 6:30 am, I was fully caffeinated, dressed, and ready to go.  The sun was not yet up.  My favorite time of day to run!  I hit play on “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift and took off.  (Reserve judgment until you see my full play list below; there will be plenty of opportunity to judge me, I assure you.)  Indeed, I was “lightning on my feet.”  I did my first mile in 7:40 and thought it was too fast.  I tried to slow down a bit, but running just felt so good!  Between the shoes and the cold and the music, I was in a groove.  I ultimately finished with an average pace of 7:50 and was delighted.  I’ve been struggling to keep my short runs in the 8s, so I was concerned I lost all the speed I built up last training season.  Turns out my speed was just in hibernation during the summer heat.  So I had a great run, but that’s not my main point today.  No, today marks the day I publicly disclose my running playlist and thereby fully humiliate myself (good thing TST is not my real name). 

My playlist is always evolving.  With the exception of Eye of the Tiger (to which I start every race, but frequently skip on training runs) and Good Vibrations (Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch have gotten me through some miserable runs), the songs get rotated off my list as I tire of them.  Then sometimes I miss them and they come back.  I must also note that my running playlist is not representative of my general taste in music.  Sometimes the most embarrassingly lame song in the world turns out to be great for working out (no joke, I had a Gangnam Style/2 Legit 2 Quit mashup on rotation for quite some time).  With no further ado, TST’s current running list:

Timber – Pitbull featuring Ke$ha                   Work B*tch – Britney Spears

Don’t Stop the Party – Pitbull                         Wobble – V.I.C

Give Me Everything – Pitbull                         White Lines – Grandmaster Flash

Shut it Down – Pitbull and Akon                    Burn – Ellie Goulding

The Beast – Tech N9ne                                   Ruff Ryders’ Anthem – DMX

Bailando – Enrique Iglesias and Sean Paul    Good Vibrations – Marky Mark

Blood N My Hair – Andre Nickatina             Check Yes, Juliet – We The Kings

Bleed It Out – Linkin Park                             Come Get It Bae – Pharrell Williams

Sandstorm – Darude                                       Eye Of the Tiger – Survivor

SexyBack – Justin Timberlake                       Turn Down For What – DJ Snake and Lil Jon

Shot Me Down – David Guetta                      Fight the Power – Public Enemy

Remember the Name – Fort Minor                 Black Betty – Ram Jam

Can’t Hold Us – Macklemore                         Lean Like A Cholo – Down AKA Kilo

Can’t Remember To Forget You – Shakira    Shake It Off – Taylor Swift

Can’t Be Touched – Roy Jones Jr.                  Move Shake Drop – DJ

More – Usher  Die Young – Ke$ha

The Monster – Eminem           

I will now go hang my head in shame.  

Mo-Jo: Almost Half Time!

Distance: 5 miles
Pace: 10:15s (well, with a recovery mile and a warm up mile and a kind of a long pause and stuff)
Medical emergencies: 2

CC is doing her first half-marathon on December 7, so Coach, CC, and I have been a Training Unit for weeks now. This involves getting up at 5:15, driving to the path in the dark, starting the run in the cold and dark (I know. We are in the warmest place in the country right now. But it still feels cold), and generally getting it done.

Last Sunday was a long run at 8 miles, and man, I felt great. I don't know if it was the good sleep, or if I ate well, or if I had just been putting the right kind of miles in, but it was a good run. Didn't even slow down on the half-mile that is one long hill. (We used to call it the Wild Mile, but now it is Dead Chihuahua Mile due to an unfortunate discovery I made on one run.) I hammered it. Was super pleased with my pace.

This leads me to my plug for my friend Dave's blog. He's a very talented ultra-runner and has begun coaching and has a blog called Coach's Corner with practical information. Also he's a good writer, so the blogs are fun. Anyway, in today's blog, he notes that one's performance at a race depends on our training. Here's an excerpt:

"Between the day we start training to the day of the race, we have a million opportunities to make choices that will either help us or hurt us on race day, and it starts at the beginning of the day.  Here are 10 questions to ask yourself:

• Did I routinely wake up early to get in my training run, or did I decide to sleep in?
• What was my diet like?  A hard tempo run followed by cheesecake, perhaps?
• Did I have a specific purpose for every training run I ran, or did I just basically run the same pace each run to hit some arbitrary weekly mileage goal?
• Did I routinely skip/modify workouts or cut them short?
• Did I make sleep a priority?
• Did I routinely stay out at happy hour or on a weekend night longer than I should have?"

Wait a minute. What now? I stopped reading at that last one. You should click on the link and read the whole thing, though.

Anyhoolies, today did NOT feel as awesome as my recent 8-mile Run of Awesomeness so I was definitely thinking about what I had done the night before to sabotage myself. Plus, today was Push Your Pace day. As you loyal readers of ROW know, Mo Jo, formerly Slo Jo, can run some slow-ass miles. I mean, I was the queen of them. But now I'm trying to get my pace up, and that means I have to run faster. Coach thought we could do three 10:15-minute miles after our warm up. Here's how that went:

First half mile: I feel incredible! Boom. I am fast fast fast. Woot!

Second half mile: W. T. F.

Immediately after that mile ended, I had an asthma attack, adding a little exclamation point to the end of the run. Had to walk a bit. This was the third exercise-induced asthma attack I've ever had, and they are really not so fun. Remember at the marathon where that lady with the broom tried to suck out my soul? Anyway, I indicated my possible imminent death to running buddies through pointing at throat and wheezing. Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, walk, wheeze, try to calm down...and hey! I had air again. We decided to do a "recovery mile" for Mile Three, then ran hard again for Mile Four and to the end.

Meanwhile, CC had developed a severe headache and showed up wearing her scarf wrapped around her head like she had a Civil War head injury. She said keeping the cold out of her ear and eye was helping, but not being able to see was not. She looked absolutely miserable--but what did she do? Finished the training run. Because we are committed!

• Did I routinely skip/modify workouts or cut them short?

Not today, muthaeffa. Not today.

Toe-Shoes Tina: Trails Are Hard, mmmmkay?

Miles:  15.5

Hours of sleep:  maybe 4? 

Solid foods consumed over 24 hours:  very little

Ragnar!  I’ve wanted to do Ragnar for years, but have never been able to make it work.  So when some of my friends from the gym invited me to join a team for Ragnar Trail, I jumped at the opportunity. 

(Sadly, I cannot run trails in toe shoes, so this is my best "toe" shoes pic.)

For those of you who aren't complete running nerds:  Ragnar is a 24ish hour relay race.  Traditional Ragnar is run on roads and has teams of 12.  They are point to point and each team member runs three different legs (varying in distance from a couple to several miles).  The runners are shuttled to each transition area in one of the team’s two vans.  Ragnar Trail is, as the name suggests, run on trails.  There are three trail loops:  green (short), yellow (medium), and red (long).  Each team member runs each loop one time.  Ragnar Trail teams have eight members and a central campsite instead of vans.  The logistics of Ragnar Trail are simpler and thus more appealing.  Plus, I have a ginormous tent that never gets used because we are not camping folk.  See?  Already contributing to the team!

(The main building is up, the east and west wings are still being constructed.)

Each team member gets a number, one through eight.  There are twenty-four legs total, so if you are runner 1, you run legs 1, 9, 17.  When it came time to assign numbers, I boldly said I was fine doing my long run last because I feel like I am a pretty strong runner (not fast, but consistent).  This is how I became runner 8 and ended up agreeing to do my 8.4 mile trail run at the end of a 24-hour trail relay.  As runner 8, I ran legs 8, 16, and 24.  My team was assigned an early-ish start time of 11:00 am on Friday.  We all met up at 7:00 am.  I carpooled with KO Kennedy. Peppy, who has run many Ragnars and has a knack for organization, rented a huge cargo van to get all our stuff in and out of the campsite.  Another of our teammates, Go Pro, had the foresight to go up on Thursday night and rope us off a sweet campsite, which she reserved with cones and a pirate flag. 

(Death to ye who think of stealing this spot!)

We were initially a little disappointed that we didn’t get a spot in the main “village” (which filled up lightning quick) and had to stay a quarter mile down the road.  But this turned out to be a blessing.  It was quieter where we were and the bathrooms situation was infinitely better (porta potties were less used in our area and our campsite was far enough away to be free from the odor).  My tent is truly a monstrosity and – oh yeah – doesn’t have directions.  KO Kennedy is a master tent setter upper and figured it out.  My tent and her pop up did not fit on our allotted space, so we encroached onto other campsites.  Oops.  People were nice, though.  (I later found out Mo Jo’s friend, Flash, had a campsite very close to mine.)  We had our camp set up by 8:30ish and I was HYPED!  Due to time constraints, I had skipped my 6:30 am boxing workout and was full of normal energy topped off with a little nervous energy.  I began to realize the drawback to being runner 8.  I would not run my first leg until approximately 5:00 that evening.  I joined my teammates in a pre-run beer and wandered around the village.

Our first runner, Sombrero, got us off to a great start with his 3.1 mile (green) leg.  He was followed by Nike, our second runner who ran the 4 mile (yellow) leg.  He finished strong, but looked a little wobbly from the heat after finishing.  This made me nervous for my later runs.  KO Kennedy was up next with her 8.4 mile (red) leg.  She had selected runner 3 so she could get the 8.4 miler done first.  It was stressing her out and by this time it was friggin’ hot!  She did great, though, and finished strong.  I still had several hours to go.  Our teammate, Yogi, then rocked the 3.1 (green) again, despite the heat.  She was able to beat the heat a little by running in shorts and a sports bra.  Something I could never do with my (lack of visible) abs.  Maybe I should take up yoga . . .  Sparky was up next (KO Kennedy is going to kill me for giving him an ASU name when she didn’t get one).  He ran the 4 mile (yellow) loop and I was interested to hear how he liked it since – when I FINALLY got to run – I’d run that first.  He warned me it was hilly.  Specifically, you get up one hill and think you’re done, but it is a cruel hallucination.  There is more hill to climb.  Great.  Go Pro set off for her 8.4 mile run in the merciless desert sun and I went back to camp to rest a bit.

At that point, a dilemma emerged.  I was hungry.  But my stomach is the first thing to go when I run.  I prefer to run with no solid food in it, which is easy when I run at 6:00 am.  Not so much when I run at 5:00 pm.  I chose to eat a banana and granola bar and just live with the rumbling tummy.  I had also been aggressively hydrating, but decided to cease all water intake at that point so I would not have to pee on the trail.  Go Pro triumphantly avoided heat stroke.   Then Peppy ran her 3.1 and I was FINALLY up!  The sun was just starting to go down, so I got some relief from the sun, but it was still warm.  And Sparky was right; the yellow loop was HILLY!  But I thought I would be fine.  I can do hills.  I run hills up in the mountains.  I know trails are supposed to be harder, but surely the 7000 foot elevation I get in the mountains would offset itself with the increased difficulty of the trail.  Nope.  The terrain is uneven and my feet slipped a bit on the way up.  This does not happen on pavement.  Then, when I got to the top of the hill, I could not fly down the other side.  There were too many rocks, ridges, holes, etc. for me to go full speed down the hill without jeopardizing my ankle.  And this screwed me.  When I run up The Beast at 7000 feet, I chug up at or just below a 10:00 pace.  But then I cruise back down at up to a 7:30 pace.  My pace did not have any such rescuing on the trails.  I did my 4 miles as fast as possible, which required me to really push myself up the hills.  It was hard and I wanted to vomit (glad I didn’t eat!) and my pace did not reflect my effort.  I ended up with a 9:27 average pace and decided to be happy with it.  I was happier still when my teammates greeted me with a beer at the finish.  Suddenly my nausea improved.  And I was happy to have finally contributed to the race!  I went back to camp and ate two slices of cheese to celebrate.  I followed it up with a couple handfuls of chips.  Health food!

My next run was at 1:00 am.  I tried to get some sleep, but only managed to doze several times. Did I say I’m not a camper?  I’m not a camper.  And the ladies in the tent next to us were loud.  And it was COLD as soon as the sun went down.  I was in running clothes covered by sweats wrapped in a sleeping bag and was still chilly.  Desert weather is ridiculous.  I managed to get to the transition area to wait for Peppy (who was just finishing her 8.4 loop).  She looked at my jacket (which was over a long sleeved top) and told me I didn’t need it.  I couldn’t imagine taking it off, though, so I ignored her advice.  Plus, I was holding my bear spray in one hand and my phone in the other and didn’t want to deal with the logistics of un-jacketing.  I just wanted to be done.  I switched on my headlamp and set off.  Yes, headlamp.  It was the desert in the middle of the night.  We had a full moon and some of my teammates were brave enough to run just with the moonlight.  I was not.  I’ve never run at 1:00 am before and certainly not on a trail.  It was not my favorite experience.  I began by telling myself pace doesn’t matter.  I very quickly laughed at myself for thinking I could abide by that. 

The headlamp was really bright, but did not light the area directly around my feet.  So I nearly turned my ankle several times.  My ascents were difficult and my descents were cautious.   Then we ran through some washes, which are filled with sand.  Every time somebody passed me (which happened more than I care to admit), sand would go flying into the air right in front of me.  This was an unexpected attribute of the headlamp:  I was able to see all the dust and sand swirling in the air.  I’m sure it was all there during the day as well, but there is something extra special about actually seeing all the crap going into your eyes, nose, and mouth.  I finished my 3.1 with a 9:47 pace and fought nausea (and regretted the second beer I had after my first run) while Peppy (who had stuck around for me to finish) handed me my sweatshirt and we walked back to camp together. Still restless, I walked her and Nike back to the transition area to welcome Sombrero back from his third (and final) run and send Nike off on his final run: the 8.4.  

I then slept poorly on the floor of the tent.  At some point during the night, I moved onto an air mattress and slept a little better.  KO Kennedy finished her last leg at around 5:00 am and took off to catch the ASU/Notre Dame tailgate and game.  I was not awake to see her off, but woke up 6:00 am and went in search of coffee.  The sun began to rise and it was gorgeous.  Sparky was running his 8.4 leg at that time and I decided I was jealous of him.  I love running as the sun comes up.  Instead, I got to run my 8.4 at 10:15 am, when the sun was up in force and the temperature was hellish again.  I was tired and had only eaten a banana for breakfast.    

(The view from my (coffee) run.)

Sparky told me he really liked the 8.4, despite most other people complaining about it.  Yes, mile 2 was all hill, but it was gradual and the views were fantastic.  I decided I wanted to really enjoy one leg of this race and I would not push myself to the point of nausea.  For once, I stuck to this plan.  I ran, but didn’t race.  It was challenging.  There was no relief from the sun and there were lots of sandy washes and brutal hills.  But I still enjoyed it.  After the big hill (which I ran to prove I could), I walked the steeper inclines and sometimes even walked sandy portions.  I still managed to finish the whole loop in an hour and 29 minutes.  I regretted being runner 8 until I approached the finish line and my whole team (minus KO Kennedy) was there: wearing our team shirts and waving our team flags.  I got a burst of energy as they cheered and ran in with me.  They once again handed me a cold beer and all was right in the world.

We lounged around the campsite for awhile.  Peppy scrounged a stick of butter from another campsite.  She and Sparky used it to make grilled cheeses on Sombrero’s propane grill.  Hot, solid food never tasted so good!  And, my god, I’ve never had a shower so divine as the shower I took upon arriving home.  I thought I appreciated my post-marathon NOLA shower.  But this shower put that shower to shame after more than 24 hours sweating it out in the dust and sand.  Husband #1 asked why my shower was so short if I liked it so much.  I answered his question by passing out in my warm, clean, pillowed bed.  No matter how awesome the shower, I could not let it delay my non-camping sleep.  Aaaaaaah.        

TST Gets Brave

Distance:  7 miles

Pace:  8:51

Sleep:  4.5 hours

Drinks at speak easy the night before:  2

Mo Jo has admittedly been keeping this blog afloat for the last few months.  I’ve been running – occasionally – but have not had much time to post.  Since the beginning of September, I’ve been to Ireland, Albuquerque, Denver, San Francisco, and Fresno.  All but Ireland were work trips.  I had some amazing runs in Ireland, but have since forgotten too many details to post.  I also had a great run in  Denver, but it was too uneventful (eventless?) to post.  

(From top left clockwise, Denver, Vegas (with Husband #1 and his toe shoes), and Ireland)

Which brings me to San Francisco.  I spent Tuesday through Sunday of last week in San Francisco.  San Francisco may be my all time favorite city in the world.  I’ve spent a lot of time there and logged a lot of miles running there.  You can cruise up the coast for a (relatively) flat run.  Or you can turn in to the city and chug up one of the city’s many hills.  On prior trips, I’ve even run up the famous Lombard street.  It is supposed to be closed to pedestrian traffic, but what can I say?  I’m a rebel.  

My first run did not disappoint.  I was there for a conference and had a lot of time available on Wednesday morning.  I ran from Soma (where my hotel was) to Embarcadero and up through Fort Mason (the only significant hill along that part of the coast) to the marina.  When I turned around, I back-tracked for a bit, but decided to go inland just before Ghiradelli Square.  I hit both Russian Hill and Nob Hill on the way back to the hotel.  My pace skyrocketed from around a 9:00 mile to a 10:30 average after those hills.  Phew!

(A prior run up Lombard Hill.  Or maybe this was a down run.  In any event, I've run up and down it multiple times.)

For my second run, I had badgered a fellow conference attendee (we’ll call him Timmy) into running with me.  We headed out after a very early business meeting.  This meant I was in full makeup, not my normal running look.  We started out the same way, up the Embarcadero.  We “turned around” at about 2.6 miles.  Rather than turning around, I had the brilliant idea to go hit some hills like I had the day before.  We ran up to the famous part of Lombard street.  The street to get there is very steep and we were mocked by a group of French tourists who were walking up the hill at a pace not much slower than our running pace.  We got to the base of the curvy part of Lombard and admired it while we caught our breath.  Timmy declined the opportunity to run up it.  I then attempted to lead us back to the hotel with minimal additional hills.  This resulted in a series of diagonal intersections with no cross-walks and sidewalks that were closed for construction.  We hit the outskirts of Chinatown, as well.  These are not ideal running conditions.  The last mile of the run went something like this:  run, run, run, stop for red light, run, run, run, shit, the sidewalk’s closed, run, run, run, stop for red light.  Not my finest run-planning moment.  

My third run almost didn’t happen.  Following an evening of networking and a trip to a speak-easy, my friend and I discovered we were starving at 1:00 am.  There is nowhere to eat in Soma a 1:00 am, save Denny’s.  I initially declined and then realized I might die of starvation in my sleep, so then accompanied my friend, who shall henceforth be known as Denny, to Denny’s at 1:00 am.  I inhaled a cheese omelette, hash browns, and toast before Denny was even halfway through her omelette.  This gave me time to look around for our server to signal for the check.  Instead, I accidentally made eye contact with a man who had just come into the restaurant.  He took this as an invitation to saunter up to our table where the following exchange took place:

Man:  I like your hair.

Me:  *polite smile* Thanks.

Man:  So, are you married?

Denny:  *dissolves into giggles right in poor man’s face*

I did not get back to my room until after 1:30 am.  As I apparently cannot sleep past 6:00 am anymore, regardless of my bedtime, I was working off less than 5 hours’ sleep when I began my third San Francisco run (not surprisingly, Timmy had ignored my e-mail asking if he wanted to join me).  I have run right up to the Golden Gate before, but never beyond as it is quite some distance from Soma (where I am usually staying because that’s where all the conferences are).  The coastline is gorgeous and I wanted to see more of it, so I decided to cab to Crissy Field and start my run there.  My original plan was to run around the coast underneath the Golden Gate and see what was there.  I got in the cab and told the driver to take me to Crissy Field.  She replied “where?”  I was baffled and just had  her take me to the marina.  I still had to give her directions.  

On the way there, I started thinking about the Golden Gate.  I cannot count how many people have told me I NEED to run/walk/bike the bridge.  Except, here’s the thing, I’m terrified of heights.  I hate even driving over bridges.  In the few seconds it takes to fly across a bridge going 80 mph, my palms sweat and I can’t look down.  So running across the Golden Gate?  As if!  As we drew closer to the water and the Golden Gate loomed, however, my lack of sleep affected my thinking.  Somewhere near the end of my cab ride, I decided I had to run the Golden Gate while I was still young(ish) and strong enough to run.  Besides, the weather was gorgeous and promised a great toe-shoes pic.  

(Stunning overlook of the Golden Gate.)

So I started at the marina.  The day was sunny and warm.  A little too warm.  But it’s okay because I’d heard the bridge was really windy.  I eased off the pace, knowing I’d want to get off the bridge as quickly as possible.  Soon I began to climb the hill that went right up to the bridge.  And then, all of a sudden (2.5 miles into my run), there it was – spread out in front of me.  It was long and foreboding and PACKED with people.  I took a deep breath, put on some Tech 9 to make myself feel tough, and started to run.  I was afraid the bridge would sway in the wind.  Fortunately, it was sturdy and the wind wasn’t very strong.  Frankly, the biggest danger to me  was bikes.  The bikes speed over the bridge and I had to dart out in front of them to get around the tourists casually strolling three abreast down the narrow(ish) sidewalk.  The risk of grievous bodily injury via bike helped take my mind off the heights.  Until I looked down at the water.  Ho-ly shit!  I was high up!  And I immediately became dizzy and nauseated.  So I tried not to look down any more.  

(From the other side of the bridge!)

(My fingers and toes tingled taking this picture.  Yipe!  So high up!)

The bridge was about 1.5  miles across.  When I reached the other side, I called husband #1 and told him I ran across the bridge.  I expected to be mocked, but he said “wow, that’s a big deal . . . for you.”  Yes.  Yes I am brave.  I conquered my utterly irrational fear of bridges.  I ran back across, victorious, and back down the cliff to sea level.  Then I headed inland and caught an Uber back to my hotel.  Where I napped.  

Mo' Jo: Bisbee Is Coming.

Distance: 30 miles (in several runs)
Pace: MUCH better. Am changing name to Mo' Jo (short for Moderate)
Injuries: 1

Greetings, wine and running fans! So last Saturday, I was hanging out with TST watching her kid play soccer, and she had on an awesome tank top that I should have taken a picture of. It said, "RUN NOW WINE LATER." She was mildly concerned it wasn't appropriate for a kiddie-event, but basically every parent who walked by complimented her on her shirt. We at Running on Wine are apparently not alone in our love of post-run wine.

I've been running quite a lot lately. I tried trail running. This came to an abrupt--and I mean abrupt--halt when I managed to fall two steps into the run. I wasn't really awake or into the run, but I had gone anyway. We walked up the concrete path to where Trail 100 starts at Dreamy Draw, and then said, "Let's go!" I stepped off the concrete onto the trail , started to run, and caught my toe on a rock. BAM. I slammed my hip into the ground and scraped my shin, elbow, and hands. So that run was sort of a bust. I had to tell the other runners to go on without me while I reassured myself that my hips and knees still worked.

I needed a different run. One with fewer rocks. My office is three miles from my house, so I started running to and from work. I have learned that it is perfectly acceptable to run three miles holding a Tupperware container with my lunch in it in one hand and my iPhone in the other. I work in a very small office and am my own boss, so the dress code is pretty lax around here. If I want to wear sweaty clothes, that's fine, says the boss. The office is a converted house, so the bathrooms even have showers. Why wouldn't I run an extra six miles a day?

"I know why," says one uninvited speaker. "Because I am going to blow up on you." Well, welcome, Achilles tendon, to the Injury Party.

I consulted the Bible of Running, aka Runner's World, and it said, to no one's surprise, that the Achilles can get inflamed from increasing mileage too quickly. Guilty. Moreover, I've been really trying to increase my pace. I've been running more like 10:30s, which is still slow for many of you, but for me represents an increase of like 1:17 per mile (approximately). (I got that from Nike Run, which has been sending me happy little messages like that.) To increase my pace, I've been trying to speed up my cadence and also quit striking with my heel.

For example, yesterday we ran the Bridle Path for four miles. I took off like a shot (in my mind). Felt great. Run run run. You would think I would have learned by now that starting off too fast leads to a great deal of pain later on in the run, but no. I have learned nothing. Coach caught up to me around the end of Mile 2 when I was beginning to think about lying down in the roadway and said, "So, started off too fast?" I would have told him off but I couldn't breathe. But after we turned around, I felt good again and tried my best to haul ass back to the car, focusing on my cadence and keeping my weight on the balls of my feet. It's been really fun to see better times on my Nike Run app.

Really fun! But then I had to limp down the hallway to the coffeepot when I got out of bed this morning. Ah, man. Rest and ice, rest and ice.

Observant readers will note that this post, titled Bisbee Is Coming, has absolutely nothing to do with Bisbee. But I'm getting there. We're going this weekend for the Bisbee 1000, a four-mile race with a thousand stairs. I've been running stadiums with Pixie and E to get ready. I actually love that workout but wish my calves would not cry for an entire week afterward. We are planning to be dressed as hippies. Last year, there weren't that many people in costumes, but we are undeterred! Unfortunately, TST is not able to go to Bisbee, so you'll have to get the race report from me. Maybe we can get Pixie to do a guest post. See you in Bisbee or in next week's blog!

Slo Jo: Updates from Slow Training Weeks

Distance: doesn't matter
Pace: don't care
Wine consumed: the usual, normal amount for a healthy single woman with a stressful job

TST and I haven't had any pressing goals set for a while. It has been summer in Phoenix, and that takes the motivation out of even the most enthusiastic Gatorade-swilling athlete. But it is mid-September now, so for me at least (TST is always in shape), it has been time to get back in gear.

Upcoming races include the Bisbee Stair Climb 1000, so I have announced we are doing Stadium Wednesdays and Sundays to my friends. Now, we did Bisbee last year, and if you are not in the fast group, you don't exactly kill it on the stairs. You are surrounded by a lot of people trying not to have a heart attack who are going super slow, and it is impossible to get by them. So I don't feel like I need to be in amazing condition for this race; on the other hand, I don't want to be sore. Or be one of the heart attack people I may have been a teensy bit judge-y about last year.

Then I have the Tucson Half Marathon in December, which promises to be a solidly downhill course. My friend KS says she has run it and that it is, yes, assuredly downhill. So I need to PR this thing. Coach has been working with me on speed workouts, but alas, I still appear to be keeping the Slow in Slo-Jo. I just CANNOT run fast. I was trying to pace this woman who was not, shall we say, built like a runner, and she TOASTED me.

And then we have the Napa full marathon in March. TST picked it out, because she is a sadist. First, she wants to be in wine country at a time when our wine consumption has to be dramatically curtailed. Perhaps she does not remember wistfully wandering around New Orleans the Saturday afternoon before the marathon when all that sounded good was a little sazerac, but I do. And we ate dinner in New Orleans at 5pm. We were the only people in there. We even beat the elderly. Wine country with no little wine is going to be less fun, I predict, than wine country with wine.

Second, after I decided I was not going to let a little wine deprivation stop me from signing up, I perused the Napa marathon website and ran across this:

"The Kaiser Permanente Napa Valley Marathon (NVM) prohibits the use of all electronic devices on the race course—in accordance with Road Runners Club of America guidelines and USA Track & Field (USATF) Rule 1.44.3(f). These devices include cell phones, MP3 players, and other portable audio or video devices using headphones."

WHAT NOW?

No headphones? No music? Just me and my thoughts about chafing for several hours?

I posted this on Facebook, and two of my friends who are experienced marathoners chimed in and said it was actually good. I would be zen with my running. I would concentrate on form. It was way better than checking out and listening to music, they said. (These people do not take five hours to run a marathon, I will just note.)

Okay, so this is going to be swell. Can't wait.

Last, you are thinking, where is the triathlon you promised? A couple of points on that.

We're having a little trouble agreeing on a race. TST won't swim in a lake. She has suggested triathlons that involve a pool. Recall this is the same person who signed us up for a music-free, wine-free marathon. The thought of doing a tri in a pool gives me the concern as a no-music marathon about lapsing into a coma from boredom, but if you do that in a pool, you drown. Ix-nay the ool-pay, I say. I want to do ocean. Or at least open water. Anyway, we'll figure it out soon.

Also, the last time I went swimming I had a traumatic experience, so I haven't been back. In my last post, I mentioned how the high point of lap swimming is the hot tub awaiting me at the end of the swim. I love me some hot tubs. So while I swim, I keep one goggled beady eye on the hot tub to see who is in it. On the last one, some old lady got in it, then got out (me: score), then a middle aged man got in. Hmm. I kept checking on the laps that faced the hot tub to see if he was still in there, and noticed the tub was full of foam. "Huh," I thought. "There must be some sort of 'bubbler' action I hadn't noticed."

So I got out of the pool and, despite having a little friend in there, got in the hot tub. (Don't worry, this story doesn't turn into a Hot Tub After-Swim Delite story or anything.) I pushed the tidal wave of foam aside, nodded hi, and settled in. Ahhhhh. Then I looked around and saw a sign: "Why does the hot tub foam?"

Intrigued, I kept reading. "The hot tub foams when members don't take a shower and the tub senses extra body oils or dirt that trigger a chemical reaction to keep the tub clean."

I looked at the man. I looked at the sign. I looked at the foam chemicals stripping a layer off my skin. I got out of the hot tub and took a shower. So...I haven't been back. But my skin looks amazing.

Slo Jo: Slo Jo Swims

Distance: 800 meters
Pace: Stately
Wine consumed: None.

I never, ever thought I'd say I miss running. I would have thought if I couldn't run any more, I'd think, finally, I have a good excuse not to run. I'd say, "Oh yeah, I ran a marathon once. Now, I can't run anymore so don't ask me." I'd join the ranks of former runners with their blown out knees and busted hips.

Turns out, I don't want to go gentle into that good night. I miss it. And I can't eat like I want to when I'm not running. I even had to turn my back on--you should be sitting down for this--wine.

I know. I KNOW. This is a serious situation.

The solution is obvious. Are you not training for a soon-to-be-selected triathlon, Slo Jo? Are there not other things you might practice, like, I don't know, SWIMMING?

Yes, yes, yes. And I agree, so I went swimming on Sunday, which seems to be the one cardio activity I can still do with my sprained foot. The Y has a 25-meter pool that is, thankfully, usually pretty empty. I'm already used to being a slow runner, but I don't need to get passed by every other person in the pool when I'm focusing on surviving. Coach has given me a ladder program to try: 4x50s, 2x100s, 1x200, then back down. He says I'm not allowed to hold onto the wall during the set--that is, complete your 50 and THEN you get to hold on to the wall. Okay, off we go.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. I remember this from swim team, age 10.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. Kind of harder to breathe on the left. Weird. Sort of like I have trouble turning right when I'm skiing. I'm totally Zoolander.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, inhale some water. How come no one else in the pool needs to take a break mid-lap to cough? At least I'm giving the lifeguard something to look at.

The 4x50s are absolutely no problem. The 2x100s are more challenging. I decide I am not quite ready for a 200 with no wall hang time--me and the wall are like *this*, I love the wall--and skip that part of the ladder. I seem to get within 10 meters of finishing a set and need to have a little choke break. This swimming thing is a sinus-clearer-outer.

Two more 100s. My swim cap seems to be sliding off the back of my head. I try to adjust it and knock my goggles off. I bet Missy Franklin does not have these problems.

Four more 50s and done. It took about half an hour to swim 800 meters. I suspect that is not very good. But anyway, the best part about the Y pool is the hot tub for post swim relaxing. I love it. Sometimes there is an old man in it, which is disconcerting, but usually it is all mine. There's no hot tub waiting for me in running ever! I'm getting on board with this swimming thing.

Slo Jo: Slo Jo Takes a Hike

Distance run: about 8 miles, two runs
Distance hiked: 2.4 miles
Distance fell on way to dramatic entry into river: maybe three or four feet

Triathlon training has begun. I swam in a pool and, like TST, did not drown. The nice thing about swimming is that the boredom is alleviated by the occasional mouthful of water and a coughing fit, which livens things right up. Trying to breathe and not drown will definitely take your mind right off your boredom.

I had a busy week before the Fourth, and basically did nothing but work, but then some friends and I went to Sedona for the Fourth of July weekend. For two mornings in a row, I got up early and ran about 45 minutes. I was so darned pleased with myself, because I hadn't been motivated to run at all before that. I told my friends, "I bet I'd be in killer shape if Phoenix were not the surface of the sun." I felt like my distance running muscles were back. I could have run 90 minutes. 120 minutes.

It helped with my feeling of "could run forever" that the return part of the run was downhill. On day two, I struggled up an endless hill for about 30 minutes before deciding to turn around. I reversed my route and made it back to the house in ten. How was that even possible?! I decided it was definitely a shorter distance on the way back.

(View from run. Yes, my finger in the frame is intentional. It, um, adds perspective.)

After day two's run, I was feeling like Slo Jo Got Her Groove Back, and enthusiastically joined the group for a hike. We drove out to Sycamore Creek in two cars, one marginally suited for the bumpy dirt road (M's SUV) and one born for it (Pixie's minivan). Okay, so the minivan wasn't actually born to be off-road. My friend S. and I were catching air in the backseat from the bumps. He said, "It's like a roller-coaster!"

We hiked 1.2 miles along the Verde River, and then found the spot where a natural spring feeds into the river. Everyone took off their shoes and waded into the spring. I hesitated, then told myself to stop being lame and took off my shoes. After all, it was hot, and the spring would feel good. At the last second, I looked at everyone's phones tucked into their shoes and took mine out, too. I supposed I might get splashed or something.

There was a steep muddy slope to get into the spring. M, who is far more experienced outdoors than I am (like nearly everyone on the planet), was behind me and said to me, "Do you need a hand?"

I said, "I'm good." I placed my bare foot carefully on the slope, shifted my weight onto it, and shot into space for a brief, glorious moment before I came crashing down into water, mud, and rocks.

Well, that hurt.

I landed on my right side in the shallow water, scraping my knee, banging my hip, and wrenching my foot. I got up, noticing I had mud all over myself, and hobbled over to sit on a rock in the water to try to launder my shorts. My knee started to swell around the scrape. My foot was very painful but I figured it would get better if I kept it in the cool water.

It did not get better. I hobbled back out of the spring and only made it back up the slope with F's help. Then we had to hike out, even though I couldn't put any weight on my foot except on the heel and big toe. I got my shoes on and started gimping along. I yelled out, "This wouldn't faze TST!" and everyone laughed. She'd probably have run back to the car just to say "eff you" to her foot.

S., proclaiming "no buddy left behind," stayed with me for the slow limp back to the car. I wanted to complain but thought of something I had heard once. People want things to be hard so they can say, "Look what I did! I hiked with a broken foot! It was excruciating!" and have all this drama and have people marvel at how you conquered something difficult. Or you can just say, "This is easy," and have no drama and be at peace with yourself. So I said mentally, "This is easy," and frankly, that did make it easier. No drama, no upset, just some limping. I did note that, unlike my run, the hike BACK to the car was far longer than the hike from the car. And occasionally I said a bad word when I stepped on something wrong and wrenched my foot again.

When I still couldn't walk the next day, I went to urgent care for an x-ray. Fortunately, I just have a sprained foot and nothing is broken. Broken sounds a lot more dramatic, but I'm not going for drama, I'm going for easy. Sprained means it will heal more quickly and I'll be back to training more quickly. I am supposed to rest it for two weeks, but I can still swim or bike after a few days of icing. And I get to wear this cool shoe:

(Maybe it only comes in one size?)

The doctor tried to put me in a boot, but the physician's assistant (who also, when I told him my weight, said, "Really? I would have guessed [20 pounds less]." Best PA Ever Award coming your way, sir) talked her into the shoe instead, asking if she wanted to kill me in the summer heat. So the shoe it is. I always did like getting new shoe.

TST: Swam 500 meters. Did not drown.

Meters swam:  500

Meters swam freestyle continuously:  62.5

Age of ugly Speedo swimsuit:  6 years.

So Slo Jo and I are doing a triathlon!  Yay for more blog posts!  As she reported, I was quite enthusiastic about her awesome idea to do a tri.  But she did not quite report all our conversation.  After agreeing to pretty much everything she suggested, I threw a major caveat:  "All that sounds great!  BUT I REFUSE TO SWIM IN TEMPE TOWN LAKE!"  For you non-Phoenicians, Tempe Town Lake is where most of the Phoenix-based triathlons (the longer ones, anyway) hold their swims.  It is also a warm, gross, cesspool of mystery waste and dead fish.  I will get a lot of crap for writing that because many of my friends have ventured into it and lived.  But I stand by my statement.  I have a healthy and legitimate fear of nasty man-made lakes. 

Ten years ago when I was about to graduate grad school, I was having a celebratory drink with my friend, Reverend Jen.  A couple of glasses of wine into the evening, Rev. Jen and I decided it would be fun to do a triathlon.  At that point in my life, I'd played a lot of hockey and logged many hours on the elliptical, but the farthest I'd ever run was likely a 5K.  It sounded ridiculously impossible and dangerous to do even a sprint triathlon.  So I agreed!  We selected the Las Vegas triathlon that fall and spent the summer training (while also studying for certification exams for our chosen profession).  I bought a training book, which included a training journal.  We'd meet to swim several times a week and then would bike and run on other days.  After our workouts, we'd hang out at a coffee shop and study all day.  I'm not joking when I say it was among the best summers of my life.  It was also the summer I realized I am not a good freestyle swimmer.  Growing up in the Midwest, it was only warm enough to swim for a couple months of the year.  But I spent those entire months in the pool.  Every August, I'd head back to school with chlorine-green hair.  I took swim lessons, diving lessons, and swam on the swim team.  

But that was several years before college.  My body still knew how to do the strokes, but not very efficiently.  My breathing was an especially big problem.  I'd be good for a lap or so, but then I'd inhale a drop of water or 20, gasp, panic, and everything would fall apart.  The lone exception is the breast stroke.  I can breast stroke forever.  I'm not fast, but I'm strong.  If I was somehow shipwrecked a mile offshore, barring any adverse animal encounter, I'm confident I could breaststroke my way to dry land.  So when it came time to do the triathlon, I breast stroked.  But did I mention the triathlon was in Lake Mead?  No?  Well, it was.  And Lake Mead is also a man-made cesspool (something about deserts and lakes just does not go together).  For the first half of the (400 meter) swim, I refused to put my head under the brown, cloudy, smelly water.  But I ultimately decided I did not put on my super-flattering pink swim cap for nothing.  So I dipped my head under for the last 200 meters.  I don't know if I'm just unusually gape-y, but I always get water in my mouth when I swim.  And this was no exception.  The rest of the tri itself was uneventful.  I finished triumphantly and celebrated with many flavored coffee and pastry calories at Starbucks.  Within a couple hours, though, my throat was raw.  That night, I lost the ability to swallow anything but the teensiest bit of water and my temperature skyrocketed.  I was sicker than I had been in recent memory.  So sick I actually went to the doctor after a couple days.  They ran a strep culture and even tested me for mono.  No dice.  They never could actually figure out what was wrong with me.  They vaguely told me it was some mystery virus.  After about a week, it went away.  But I knew the truth.  Lake Mead's nastiness poisoned me. Thus my reluctance to jump into Tempe Town Lake.  

While SJ is researching clean-water triathlons for her prissy friend, the temperature in Phoenix is skyrocketing.  I spent the weekend up in the mountains.  The high was 90.  I went for a run in 85-degree weather (which, frankly, was a bit hot in light of the sun and altitude).  Then I returned to Phoenix and -- because my dinner recipe called for it -- turned on my broiler to broil shrimp.  This made my kitchen only marginally cooler than the 110 degrees my car reported it being outside.  So after dinner, I decided:  what better time to see if I can still swim?  I dug my ancient Speedo one-piece out of my underwear drawer.  The elastic still held, so I borrowed Daughter #1's goggles and drove to the pool.  The pool is only .2 miles away, but did you read the part about 110 degrees?  Yeah.  

It was okay.  There is a 25 meter lap pool in my neighborhood.  I jumped in and swam one lap freestyle.  Then I breast stroked lap 2.  I continued alternating for most my swim.  Then on lap 17, I decided to see if I could make my last 4 laps freestyle.  Nope.  I made it through lap 17, 18, and half of 19.  Then my lungs felt like they were going to explode.  Breast stroke it is.  It just allows for such wonderful access to oxygen!  I swam 20 laps, which should be 500 meters.  I think it might have been more because I had to repeatedly dodge a group of 12 year old boys who have no awareness of people trying to swim laps in a a lap pool.  It took me about 20 minutes and I felt a delicious burn in my back muscles/rear deltoids.  Hmmm . . . this might balance out all the pec/tricep work I do at boxing!  Upon returning home I recapped my workout for Slo Jo via text:  "Swam 500 meters.  Did not drown."  That about sums it up.  Nothing to write home about, but it's a good start.  And so what?  I might have to breast stroke my triathlon.  I'm sure worse things have happened.  (And I trust our dear readers to inform me if this is some serious breach of triathlon etiquette.)   Now I've got a nice glass of bubbly calling my name.  Cheers!

Slo Jo: And So It Begins (Again)

Miles run since marathon: Oh, maybe 8. Over four months.
Glasses of wine since marathon: 9 thousand
Hours spent on couch: Infinite

I don't know if you heard, but running and I broke up. After the marathon, I just lost interest. I tried to rekindle it. We went on a couple of dates. On one, I made it exactly one-quarter mile before deciding, "This sucks." I walked home. On another, I ran six miles. I thought, "We're back together!" And then...we weren't.

I cannot tell you how annoying it is to have a little voice in your head saying, didn't you spend hours training to run 26.2 miles and now you are basically back to full-on couch potato? Perhaps unfortunately for me, that voice is drowned out by the one telling me running is boring and painful. Cocktails by the pool are better.

Before I could fully degenerate into full-on sloth and require a motorized cart to truck around Safeway, I called TST for help. She's very agreeable:

Me: I think we should set another goal.
TST: Okay!
Me: How about a triathlon?
TST: Okay!

I think if I had said, let's train for Mount Everest, or Badwater, or, I don't know, swimming across the Atlantic, she would have been equally enthused. As we have discussed in this blog, TST is made of stronger stuff.

We have some new challenges, like, um, swimming. I haven't tried to swim laps since I was ten years old and on a swim team. I had a silly swim suit with a tiger on it and it would not stay up covering my chest when I dove off the blocks, which was embarrassing at ten and is Really Not Acceptable at 40. So I bought a swim suit, and googles, and yes, a swim cap. This is not going to be a blog about having green hair. And I joined a bike club. We enlisted Shoe Killer for a buddy on long rides. I need to get a bike seat not built for a slender man with no pelvis. And some new running shoes. Because I wore HOLES in mine training for the marathon. I feel like I should get these things bronzed.

Who's a shoekiller now?

So stay tuned! We are BACK! Running on Wine 2: Trying for the Tri, or the Wrath of Couch, or WTF, Flip Turns, or How I Learned to Remember to Unclip My Shoes from the Pedals Before the Stop Sign. We're excited. Now, we just need to pick a race!

Toe-Shoes Tina: Beast Mode

Miles since marathon:  35

Rest days since marathon:  1

And we can’t stop.  And we won’t stop.  We run things, things don't run we. Don't take nothing from nobody.  Yeah.  Yeah. 

No, I’m not about to go twerk on Robin Thicke.  (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you.)  Nope, I – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – am feeling a little like Miley:  I can’t stop.  The marathon knocked something loose in my brain and I.  Just.  Can’t.  Stop.  A normal response to running 26.2 in 100 percent humidity would be to take it easy for awhile.  A perfectly acceptable response would be to never want to run again.  Or for at least a month.  I don’t know what went wrong with my wiring. 

I rested the day after the marathon.  Well, by “rested,” I mean traveled home.  I was back in the gym the following day (marathon +2 days).  “I’ll take it easy,” I thought, “I need to recover.”  And, truth be told, my first day back to kickboxing may not have been my hardest workout ever.  But things ramped up from there.  To the point I was racing Jackrabbit at our normal balls out pace two days later.  And I haven’t slowed down.  That Saturday (marathon +6 days), I ran 10 miles before taking Daughter #1 and Husband #1 to their 5K.  Then we went to the mountains.  I ran five miles at altitude on Sunday (marathon +7 days).  Then, Monday morning (marathon +8 days), I made my triumphant return to Vibrams.  Toe-Shoes Tina is back, y’all!  Again, I promised myself I’d start slow.  But I ended up clocking five 8:11 minute miles.  Hot damn!  I then did my normal kickboxing Tuesday through Friday (marathon +9-12 days), except it wasn’t normal.  I felt stronger and faster than I’ve ever felt.  Even while pulling tires across asphalt for sprints on Friday. 

This past Saturday (marathon +13 days), I had a 5K in the afternoon, but still went to my boot camp first (despite sore quads from the tires).  After a challenging circuit, the coach had us do less challenging stuff, like lie on our backs and punch the bags.  (90 percent of the class was running the 5K later.)  I sped home from boot camp to shower and change for a Bat Mitzvah.  I then attended the Bat Mitzvah across town and raced back to my side of town for the 5K, changing out of my dress and in to running clothes (including a bra change) in my car in the parking garage.  It was nearly 90 degrees by the time the race started at 2:00.  As we were lining up, I said the following “it’s so hot.  I’m just going to take it easy.  I’m not even going to use MapMyRun because I don’t want to stress about time.  I’m hoping for 9 minute miles.  I’ll be happy with anything under 30.”  Um . . . I PR’d.  With no timing mechanism, I thought I was starting easy.  Then I saw Jackrabbit (who usually smokes me) about 30 seconds ahead of me.  So I chased her.  I finished in 23:43 on a hot, hilly course (27th woman to finish out of 620).  Huh?   I was elated last year when I (barely) broke 26:00 on the same run!  7:38 pace.  I still danced at the after-party for an hour then rallied for date night with Husband #1.  Then I woke up and did a 90 minute (much harder) boot camp the next day. 

Monday (marathon +15 days) was Presidents Day.  My parents were visiting, so I left the girls at home with them and went for a 12 mile run.  I figured 12 miles would be easy-peasy after the really long runs I’ve been getting used to.  It turns out 12 miles is still a long way to run (and I barely broke a 10:00 pace).  But I did it with no pain and in relative comfort.   This morning I did another really hard kickboxing session, complete with suicides, tire pulls, and box jumps.  And you know what?  My muscles have that familiar dull ache, but I feel fantastic!  My joints are good.  My stamina is good.  And I don’t want to quit.  I’m on some crazy high.

Last week I e-mailed Dave Krupski, our ultra-marathoner badass friend.  I had to know if this prolonged endorphin rush was a “thing” or whether it just meant I didn’t run hard enough in NOLA.  He reassured me that it was a thing.  And, to paraphrase, it results from breaking through mental barriers and realizing what you are truly capable of doing.  I can just imagine Pinch Your Butt cringing at my lack of rest and predicting some colossal blow-up (IT band?  Hip flexors?  What will it be???).  But I’m not stopping.  I want to see what I can do next.  

Top Ten Things Slo Jo And Toe-Shoes Tina Learned On The Road To NOLA

Judging by internet headlines these days, everybody loves a good "Top Ten" (or twenty or seventeen or whatever) list.  Ever suckers for clickbait, Slow Jo and Toe-Shoes Tina have created their own Top Ten lists for your edification and amusement.  So, with no further delay:

Slo Jo's Top Ten:

1. Get some shoes that work. You want your toes to look pretty? Then get them with a big enough toe box. My running shoe size is a full size above my regular shoe size. Also, get them from a running store with employees who know what they are doing, not some teenager who is making minimum wage and texting his girlfriend that she looks adorbs.
2. You’re not going to run a marathon on a low-carb diet. Quinoa for breakfast? Sounds good to me.
3. Body Glide is your BFF. LOVE it. Can’t run without it. Also chomps. Also a dorky hydration belt. What happened to the advice that all you need is a pair of running shoes and you can run? Now I have all this gear. 
4. Running will make you discover muscles you never knew you had, usually when you get a pain in an area that has never, ever hurt before.
5. You can run for hours. I thought it would be a conditioning thing. It is all mental. It is not so much about physical toughness as the ability to endure hours of boredom with low-level discomfort.
6. You don’t need IT bands. It is acceptable to ask to have them removed.
7. People who don’t run are super judge-y about marathons and like to tell you why they are bad for you. Oh, it’s bad for the joints. Oh, your heart only has so many beats. I’ll tell you what’s bad for you. My fist in your face. (Just kidding. I’m not a puncher. That’s TST.)
8. You need running buddies, preferably chatty ones, so the running is less boring and the time passes. Also, it is good to have to meet someone, or sometimes the running doesn’t get done.
9. Beware ladies dancing with rakes. Not cads. The lawn implement.
10. Your friends and family who supported you through training and finishing a marathon are even better BFFs than Body Glide. And that is saying something. 

TST's Top Ten

1. Running is an individual sport, but I wouldn’t be able to do it without the love and support of family and friends.  
2. You don’t have to have washboard abs to run a 1:50 half marathon.  Conversely, just because you can run at a runner’s pace does not mean you will have a runner’s body.
3. My race photos are much more flattering if I run in sunglasses.
4. I am both stronger and faster than I ever dreamed.
5. There is no shame in crying or dry heaving.
6. Running gear might seem pricey, but it is worth every penny.
7. If you sweat enough, you will be medically justified in scoffing at the RDA for sodium.  Now pass the chips.  
8. Toes are overrated and wine is underrated.
9. Audiobooks make me look forward to long runs.  Also, Lee Child knows nothing about women.  *shrug*
10. Suffering is rewarding.

Slo Jo: MARATHON COMPLETED!

Distance: 26.2 Miles

Pace:  12:06 avg

Total time: 5:16:50

And here it is, finally: the race report! It's a long blog, but you should read to the end or skip to the end--because I want to thank you for your support getting me to the finish line. And that comes at the end!

We arrived in New Orleans on Friday afternoon and promptly tucked into some chargrilled oysters and drinks at the Royal House Oyster Bar. Dinner was at Cochon. 

I had a drink called The Swinekiller, then had some pork topped with pork cracklins. TST refused my kind offer to share my cracklins. She's not so big on swine.

We returned to the French Quarter for a drink at Lafitte's, where we met up with Channing and Reno. Channing lives in New Orleans--her name will be explained in a minute--and Reno, who lives in Reno, was visiting her. Both were planning to run the half on Sunday.  Somehow we ended up at Channing Tatum's bar, Saints and Sinners, which features a large portrait of...Channing Tatum. Channing Tatum in a fedora. I took a picture for your viewing pleasure.

(You're welcome.)

Saturday we spent shopping and not drinking. Let me tell you how easy it is to be in the Big Easy and not drink alcohol. Not easy! So many bars...we walked longingly passed Pat O'Briens and what seemed like a thousand other places to drink. 

(No drinks, but I did find this excellent real estate sign.)

But the deal was one glass of wine with dinner and that was IT. The marathon was the next day. Had to be hydrated.

After a delicious dinner at Sylvain, with shrimp and popcorn rice and these really wonderful almonds, we went back to the hotel. I carefully laid out all my stuff and pinned my race number to my running shirt. I had brought two shirts, and one was dirty! My marathon dreams were coming true. Anyway, I chose the clean one. TST looked at me carefully pinning on my number and said, "Oh, are you doing that already?" Yes. I also affixed my timing chip to my shoe so my other dream, where I had failed to put my number on and had no time, would not come true. We watched the weather--50% chance of rain--watched a Jimmy Fallon special, and went to bed at 9 .

We woke up the next morning after a troubled sleep--I'm pretty sure a marching band came down Royal Street during the night for some reason--and it was go time! I had a cup of coffee, a banana, and a Kind bar. I really wanted a second cup of coffee but I didn't want to have to pee ever again. It wasn't raining, but fog had rolled in. It was 100% humidity.

(View of the start line. You can sort of see how foggy it is.)

Made it to the corrals, where we separated. My corral was 15, so there was a lot of waiting. I was next to a guy with BO, and I spent the time waiting by wondering how his deodorant could possibly have already failed before the race. Maybe it was the humidity? I was warm, under my running jacket, and wondered if I should strip it off. But my iPhone was safe from the rain in its pocket. I ended up taking off the jacket and tying it around my waist, and putting the iPhone in an extra Ziploc bag I had shoved in my pocket.

We slowly, slowly approached the start. I got my watch ready for timing and started my music.

5K:  36:21. Avg pace: 11:42

Crossed the start line and started to run! My focus for each race at the start is not to go out too fast. I checked my watch constantly for my pace. It was very, very crowded on the course. Lots of runners. Lots of charity groups. And lots of clumps of walkers.

Race etiquette needs to be prominently posted on signs. Things like, hey walkers, get right. Don't stop abruptly. Don't stop to do a killer dance move right in front of an approaching runner (this happened and I collided with the killer dancer). Don't walk abreast in a group of four so everyone has to run around you. I ran about ten extra miles just weaving around people.

At mile 3, my watch said 36 minutes had elapsed. So that was fine, but I felt I could pick up the pace a little. 

10K: 1:11:18. Avg pace: 11:15

I increased my speed and relaxed into a comfortable pace for the next few miles. The fog settled in. The race people had put a giant inflated monkey over the course we ran through--couldn't even see it until we got close and it loomed out of the fog. We ran through the French Quarter through the eerie cloud. My skin was soaked, but the temperature was perfect.

The spectators got a lot more interesting in the French Quarter. There was a guy in a shiny purple cape standing still as a statue. Drunk people happily cheered us on. The Mississippi River was invisible to our right, and Jackson Square invisible to the left. 

10M: 1:54:09 Avg pace: 11:20

Things were still feeling pretty good. I couldn't wait until the half marathon people finished and the course cleared out. I was passing a lot of people, and that felt good. I was thinking, why don't you people pick it up a little bit? You only have three more miles! Of course, at mile 23, that reasoning got me nowhere.

But then when it finally happened, and the course split in two for the half marathoners and the fulls, it was a bit emotional for me. I was relieved that the course would be far less congested. But I was feeling so proud of myself that I was part of the smaller group doing the full! I happily trotted along in the left lane while the half marathoners took the right, feeling awesome.

Half Marathon:  1:28:43. Avg pace: 6:42

Some friends were following my pace by text, and apparently they got a text that I ran the half in 1:28. Sadly, no one believed it. 

Actual Half Marathon: 2:28:43. Avg pace: 11:10.

2:28 was fine with me for the half, and I still hoped to break five hours for the full. But then shit started to hurt.

I had pain in my foot where I was getting a blister on the heel of my foot. My knees hurt. My right hip ached. I took some Advil after trying to tough it out a while--I'd say to myself, you can have Advil if it still hurts in another half mile. Then I took it. Then I took some more.

The course took us through a gorgeous park where the giant trees hung massive limbs over the road, and then next to Lake Pontchartrain. We could only see about ten yards of it due to the fog, but it was nice to see it. And the course was an out and back, so we could see the fast runners coming back. Some of them have really crazy gaits. You wouldn't think they'd be so fast. They were all super skinny, too. They should try running with extra pounds, like I have to. Not as easy! 

Coach had warned me not to attempt any heroic speed efforts at Mile 16, where he said I would be feeling good if I had hung back in the first half. Apparently I had not hung back, because there was no risk of my attempting any feats of speed at Mile 16. None. I was getting tired, and I knew I was getting slower. I just tried to hang on to 12s.

Then the hills started.

We were promised a flat course! Flat! Apparently they say that because you gain and lose the elevation so you end up with a net elevation change of 12 feet. They didn't mention all the freaking hills and bridges. Or the headwinds. The bridges were a bear. I started off running them. In fact, TST saw me on her way back in (I missed her because I was trying to breathe), and said I looked strong. I would be walking those bridges later on.

I decided Mile 17 was my nemesis. It was another hill and just seemed to go up forever and ever.

Just after Mile 19, we got to turn around. This was another happy moment. We had turned the corner! I could see all the runners coming up behind me! They looked worse than I felt! I took some more Advil to celebrate.

20 Miles: 3:55:56  Avg pace: 12:39

These last six miles were so hard.

I started being unable to do things like close the zipper on my hydration belt after getting out my Chomps. I needed a ton of water every rest stop and drained the containers on my hydration belt. I would think, only six more miles! And then remember that was gonna take more than an hour. I was doing the Slo Jo plod. Every now and then I would remember to straighten my back, which helped. But it was painful and slow.

Around Mile 22, a woman appeared dressed in black holding a large rake. Other people were using rakes to rake up the empty cups runners toss near the garbage, but this lady was more creative--she was doing a Rake Dance. She waved the rake in the air and in a circle around her body, her hips moving in time with the rake. As I approached, she began raking the air in front of me as if she were drawing me toward her. She announced, "Martinis ahead!" and raked me toward her. As I passed, all the air left my body and I had an asthma attack.

Ever had an asthma attack? They are terrifying. My breath suddenly sounded like this: "HuuuuuuuuEEEEEEEEE ahhhhhhhhhhhh. HuuuuuuuuuuhEEEEEEEE ahhhhhh." 

Loud and wheezing and no air. Meanwhile, well meaning onlookers were trying to offer me a damn martini. "HuuuuuuuuhEEEEEEEEEEEEEE gaaaaaaaaaah," I said, waving them off.  I was too busy trying to stay calm and live at that point. 

I realized, through gasps, that the woman with the rake had not been waving me in.  She was RAKING OUT MY SOUL. 

I kept walking through it, not wanting to stop even though I was unable to breathe, because the marathon psychosis had me at that point. No stopping. No medical. I will be fine. And it did stop, and I immediately started plodding again.

Miles 22 and 23 were about moving, and when I looked at my watch later, these were my slowest miles. I must have looked pretty miserable, because I started getting a ton of encouragement. "Not far now!" said an older man walking his Golden Retriever. "You look strong! You are almost there!" lied the Leukemia Lymphoma coaches. (They were so great. I forgive your charity teams for walking in clusters.) "You got this!" said other kind spectators. It was helpful because I was not really believing in myself at this point. Walking seemed like such a wonderful thing. But I kept plodding because I thought, I am NEVER RUNNING A DAMN MARATHON AGAIN so I might as well try this time.

At Mile 24, I finally got a second wind and picked it up a little. At Mile 25, I told myself, you can get there under 5:15 if you try. At Mile 25.5, I decided I did not give a fig about beating 5:15 and finishing was good enough. I ran the last mile around the park and into the chute, fighting nausea and doing my best. I smiled for the camera and crossed the finish line.

I heard my name and saw that TST, Channing, and Reno were there cheering my finish. Reno told me she had a beer for me, which was amazing, but I had to work on not puking for a minute. I got a banana and some chocolate milk and water and got wrapped in a Mylar blanket so I wouldn't get chills once I started to cool down. Then I had the best sit down of my life.

FINISH: 5:16:50

Avg Pace for last leg: 13:03

Avg pace overall: 12:06

Texts started pouring in from friends and family as well as Facebook messages. I felt like you all were with me. Thanks so much for being on this journey with me. I can't believe I did it. But knowing you had all supported me along the way meant a great deal to me, and you helped when times were dark. You know, like when I had my IT band issue, or when I had my soul sucked out by the rake lady. And you were there cheering me to the finish. I appreciate it so much!! Special shout out to Coach, Flash, Pixie, E, F, K, CC, and of course TST, who got me off the couch in the first place. THANK YOU.

Much love, 

Slo Jo

Toe-Shoes Tina: We Are The Champions!

Distance:  26.2!!!!!!

Pace:  10:12 (I think)

Humidity:  100 percent.  Really.  Not hyperbole.

Purple toes:  1

Slo Jo and I are both now marathoners.  It is awesome.  Running the marathon was less awesome.  But the trip was very fun and very memorable.  I apologize in advance for the long blog post, but it’s been a long journey and it was a LONG run!

We arrived in New Orleans on Friday, January 31 – full of nervous energy.  We checked in at the Monteleone and immediately set out for charbroiled oysters.  So good.  Conscious about pre-marathon carb needs, we also ordered fries.  Then we went back to the hotel and had a drink at the famous Carousel Bar, where we sat next to a woman wearing the 2013 NOLA marathon shirt.  We struck up conversation and she informed us she is running the half, as she had several times prior, because she always ends up with a hangover in New Orleans, which precludes her from running the full.  She sounded wise.  She gave us advice on getting to the expo and wished us luck.  Later that night, we met up with my friend, Reno, who had signed up for the half.  Her friend, Channing, was with her.  Channing lives in New Orleans.  We were happy to bar hop with a local.  We stayed up much later than planned, not returning to the room until 10:30, whereupon we ordered pizza from room service.  I fell asleep before it came, managing to wake up long enough to shove a slice in my mouth.  Reno and Channing stayed out much later.  You get to have more fun when you’re running a half. 

Saturday was far more boring.  We hit the expo and went shopping.  We had 5:30 pm dinner reservations.  The restaurant was probably surprised when we showed up and were not 75 years old.  Dinner was yummy and we were back to the room very early.  We laid out all our running stuff, set our alarms, and watched a Jimmy Fallon highlight show.  Both our alarms went off at 5:30 am (we are nothing, if not type-A) and we jumped out of bed, both of us having had dreams about running all night.  I planned to eat a banana and have a small latte.  I walked to Starbucks at 5:40 am only to find that it did not open until 6:00.  Well, that was certainly inconvenient.  The race started at 7:00!  I sulked back to the hotel.  There were throngs of runners about the street as well as some drunk stragglers from the previous evening.  One of those drunk stragglers wobbled up to me, gold tooth gleaming in the moonlight, and exclaimed “hey girl, where you going with no socks on?” (I was in flip flops).   “Trying to find coffee,” I grumbled, “I have to run later.”  He looked confused and then a light bulb went on “oh yeah!  They have all the streets closed off up there for some marathon.  What’s your name?”  “Sandy,” I lied.  Sandy?  WTF?  The best I can come up with is the super storm that cancelled the New York marathon?  That can’t be a good omen.  He bid “Sandy” goodbye and I trotted back to the hotel, whereupon I applied all the necessary body glide and my race number and timing tag (or so I thought).  Then I went back to Starbucks at precisely 6:02, determined to get my latte.  15 people in front of me had the same idea.  I did not get back to the hotel until 6:20, where I had only a couple minutes to drink my latte.  I only got through half of it.  SJ informed me it was 100 percent humidity outside (no exaggeration) and we set off for the start line.  It was like walking through a cloud.

Slo Jo and I made our way through the crowd of runners, most of whom had no regard for what was going on around them and randomly stopped in the middle of foot traffic.  Again, I thought this did not bode well for the marathon.  I got to corral 12 and gave Slo Jo a quick good luck hug.  In my corral, I decided to put my race number on my shorts so it would be visible even if I was wearing my jacket, which I expected to do for much of the race to protect my phone from the drizzle.  I opted not to use MapMyRun for a few reasons:  (1) it is impossible to start it as I cross the start line if it is under my jacket, (2) I don’t want to get too stressed about pace, and (3) it burns my battery.  I had paid $5 so Husband #1 would get text updates on my progress.  I figured he could tell me my time if I couldn’t figure it out from the clocks throughout the course.  I (unlike some unpatriotic bloggers) stayed still for the national anthem and then watched two women clasp hands and pray for about 45 seconds, reminding me I was in the South.  Then I noticed the 4:30 pacers in the corral ahead of me, so I snuck up to corral 11 and formulated a race plan:  get in front of the 4:30 pacers and stay there.  We inched toward the start line and then it was go time.  I could not see the start clock when I crossed the start line, but no matter – Husband #1 was watching online.  I started “Eye of the Tiger” and zipped past the 4:30 pacers.

But running was hard.  It was crowded, the streets were pocked with potholes, and the humidity was brutal.  Clock time was 25:33 at the 1 mile marker and I was drenched in my own sweat.  I started tasting salt on my lips well before mile 2.  Although you’re not supposed to try anything new on race day, I knew I had to adjust my salt to account for my sweating, so I decided to take a salt pill every 6 miles instead of 8.  I also got water or Gatorade at every station instead of waiting for mile 6.  All of the first 13 were hard for me.  I developed a dull pounding headache by mile 4.  Each mile marker had a clock and I was running 9:40 to 9:50 each mile.  I was gaining valuable time on the 4:30 pacers, but it was hard.  I never hit my stride.  The first several miles were amateur hour and I was dodging oblivious runners/walkers left and right.  I didn’t want to slow down because I needed to bank time for bathroom breaks (the marathon having come at a very inconvenient time of the month), so I kept up the uncomfortable pace, which shouldn’t have been an uncomfortable pace in any event.  The marathon course was the same as the half marathon course for the first 13 miles.  So I got to see all the perky people in fun costumes who only had 13 miles to run (yeah, I said it).  I saw only two marathoners in costumes:  ladies dressed up in lingerie and dramatic makeup blaring the Christina Aguilera version of “Lady Marmalade” vacillating between jogging and stripper dance moves.  They were fun.  I passed them easily.  About mile 10, I began to resent all the half marathoners because they were about to finish.  Jerks. 

I took my first restroom break at mile 13.  It took me about 3 minutes, but reset me mentally.  I came out of the bathroom to a sparse course (the half marathoners having separated) and a drink station with plenty of Gatorade.   For the first time, my run felt good.   We turned in to some large city park for a long out-and-back (6.5 miles each way).  Right around mile 14-15 I began to see the course leaders coming the opposite way.  I whooped for the first couple guys I saw.  Then I saw the first place woman come chugging along with her bike escorts.  I cheered “you go girl!!!!” and I think I scared her.  I didn’t care; I was happy!  Soon, well . . . in 90 minutes . . . I’d be coming down that same home stretch.  Yay endorphins!!!!!  They ran out at mile 18.  I suddenly could not care less about pace and struggled to put one foot in front of the other in something resembling a running stride.  I took my second bathroom break.  It did not help and cost me another 3 minutes.  I came upon a series of bridges, each of which required an incline.  On a normal day, the incline would have been a gentle slope.  18 miles into the humidity-laden marathon, however, each one seemed like Everest.  I began walking up the inclines, but saw the 4:30 pacers rapidly approaching me.  They chased me for the rest of the race.   I’d run to gain some cushion between us so I could walk.  “Just run to the water station,” I’d plead with myself, “then you can afford to walk.”  I began to wonder why there aren’t 20 mile races – it’s a hard distance!  Why not 20?  Why can’t I be done now????  Around mile 22, I swore I would never run another marathon.  At mile 23, the guy in front of me veered off to the side and puked in the grass.  I looked the other way, held my breath, and ran by him.  At mile 24, I told myself (out loud, in fact) “2.2 miles.  2.2 miles is grit distance!  You have grit.  F***ing use it!”  People might have thought I was crazy. 

Finally, there was mile 25 and a drink station.  I’d gained enough space from the pacers that I could walk the whole damn station, even though I finished my drink long before the last trash can.  A very nice woman shuffled up behind me and said “you only have a mile left, come on, you can do it!”  I gave her an ironic smile (or maybe a grimace, I was beyond caring) and proceeded to leave her in the dust.  We turned into a central part of the park and I could hear the music.  I was at the finish!  Oh, no, wait.  No finish yet.  The course snaked up and back and up again then around a corner.  Surely the finish was around that corner.  No!  Still another 5 miles (okay, that’s what it felt like) through lazy turns.  Holy crap!  Could they antagonize me a little more with this finish line?????  But finally, the barricades loomed on either side of the walkway and the finish line appeared like a mirage.   Lord help me, I sprinted.  I didn’t know I had it in me, but I did.  When I saw the cameras, I threw up my arms in victory and sailed over the finish line.   I collected my medal and stopped.  Emotions started welling up.  I’d done it!  But before the tears of joy and exhaustion could emerge, I heard “Tina!  Tina!”  I turned to my right and saw Reno and Channing.  Reno was hanging over the barricade, waving a can of beer at me.  The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.  I scooped up a water and a mylar blanket, then hightailed it out to the area where Reno was hanging.  I draped the mylar blanket on the ground and promptly collapsed, unsure whether I could get back up.  My legs burned and I exclaimed “that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’ve given birth!  Twice!”  Reno, who has a few marathons under her belt, smiled sympathetically. 

(This is me frantically texting from the only position that felt comfortable after my run.)

I managed to roll into a position that didn’t feel terrible on my legs and I texted Husband #1 “what is my time?”  He replied that my tracking hadn’t worked.  I looked at my shoe and my heart sank.  I hadn’t attached the “sensing” part of the sensor.  If it wasn’t for Reno and Channing, I would have burst into tears right there.  But they were amazingly supportive.  Reno confirmed I crossed the finish at clock time 4:43.  I knew I hit 1 mile at 25 minutes, so my start time was somewhere between 15 and 16.  I finished a few minutes in front of the 4:30 pacers.  We estimated my time at 4:27 (even with about 6 minutes in bathroom breaks!) and I began to feel a little better.  I did it.  I had witnesses.  We waited for Slo Jo to finish.  She looked really strong and managed to ham it up for the cameras a little.  Then we commiserated for a bit and took the shuttle back to the hotel, where we took hot showers and ordered a bunch of fried food from room service.  I had chafing in areas in areas I’d never chafed before and the second toe on each foot felt spongy and strange.  I blame the humidity. The entire tip of the toe on my left foot was dark purple and in that instant I knew that I was going to lose a toenail, probably two.  But my broken toes felt great, so I guess it was not all bad. 

(My marathon journey has been the journey of ugly toes.  Totally worth it, though.)

SJ and I rallied after naps and watched the first half of the Super Bowl at a bar.   We then mosied over to our favorite oyster place and ate more chargrilled oysters for dinner.  They sat us upstairs.  Up a very long set of stairs.  Which we had to go back down after dinner.  We both complained loudly with each step.  I slept like a baby that night.  Then I woke up very early with a growling stomach on Monday.  Rather than waking SJ, I slipped out of the room and walked a couple blocks to a coffee shop, where I devoured 3 beignets and a latte.  Aaaaah.  Carbs!  We flew home later that day.  Sitting for 3+ hours on a plan was not pleasant, but bearable.  Two days after a hard workout always seems the worst on my muscles, but I have to say, today (Tuesday) I feel fine.  I went to my normal boxing class this morning.  My quads were a little sore and I fatigued a bit quicker than normal, but I was fine.  I even wore high heels to work for the first time in over a month.  Altogether I am stunned at how quickly I have recovered.  I have not taken Advil or iced any part of me, but I am hardly sore two days after.  No joint pain, minimal muscle discomfort.  So clearly the only conclusion is I didn’t run hard enough.  *sigh*  Next time.  Yes, I said next time.  It took me several tries to get comfortable with 13 miles.  I need to do more distance runs to get comfortable with 20+ miles.  So I definitely see more marathons in my future.  Hopefully 4:15 or faster! 

(PSA:  This shoe might look like it has a sensor on it, but it doesn't.)

In all seriousness, this has been an amazing process.  I would not have stayed so committed if it wasn’t for Slo Jo and her encouragement.  And the support of all of my family, friends, and blog readers has been invaluable.  Thank you so much for sharing this journey with me.