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*)

SJ and TST Present: An Interview With Ultra Runner Dave Krupski

Dave Krupski is an experienced ultramarathoner and marathoner. His latest accomplishments include finishing Badwater, a 135-mile race through scalding 120-degree temperatures, in 14^th place, and finishing first among the men in the Key’s 100. He has finished countless other marathons and races, some of them in outfits picked out by members of ROW. He is also our friend, and graciously consented to answer our questions in this special ROW post. His blog is available here.

(Dave and his awesome wife, Alex.  She is also a runner.)

ROW:    First, how are you feeling? We heard from Facebook that you had a terrible fall just five miles into your planned 100-mile trail run recently.

DK:  Yeah, that spill sucked; I basically fell down a rocky hill in a race in Georgia.  Luckily, it was just a bad bruise, but it didn’t exactly come at the best time in the race (it was Mile 5 on a 105-mile course).  Feeling better now, and finally back to running without pain. 

ROW:    That really sucks, but we’re glad you’re recovering. You are an accomplished runner, and you seem to have found your niche at the long runs. How did you decide you wanted to run a longer distance than a marathon?

DK:  I ran about 30 or so marathons from 2003-2011.  I really liked the distance (still do).  I’ll probably run the inaugural Southernmost Marathon (in Key West) in 10 or so days (Oct 12^th).

 I signed up for my first ultra – a 50 miler in the Marin Headlands (those hills on the other side of the Golden Gate bridge) – in late 2010 on a whim.  I always love an excuse to get out to San Francisco for a weekend, and running on those gorgeous trails sounded like fun to me. 

ROW:    How did the first ultra go?

DK:  It was brutally awesome!  I was still living in Phoenix at the time, and did ZERO hill training for the race.  And the race had 20,000 feet of elevation change over 50 miles.  Plus, I had no clue what I was doing, so I suffered mightily after about 25 or so miles.  But I made it through, and was bawling my eyes out by the time I crossed the finish line at Mile 50.  It was the first time I felt that emotional during a race since my first marathon…

ROW:    What do people say when you tell them you are doing events like Badwater or the Keys 100?

DK:  Mostly things like “I don’t even like driving 100 miles,” or “I only run when someone is chasing me.”  I get comments like that all the time.  But now that ultras are getting much more popular, I also get a lot of people who are genuinely interested in what it feels like to run from Key Largo to Key West, or 135 miles across Death Valley.  I think more and more people are getting the memo that life is pretty cool and invigorating when you are really challenging yourself and pushing the mental and physical limits of what you previously thought was possible.

ROW:    What is your typical training week like when you have an ultra coming up?

DK:  I’ve been running around 100 miles a week – give or take – for the better part of the last decade.  For my two big races so far this year (Keys 100 and Badwater 135), I bumped my weekly mileage up to about 120-130 miles/week.  I know that sounds like a ridiculous amount, but your body gets used to the mileage as you keep improving.  Seriously. 

ROW:    Do you use a Garmin or other GPS device to keep track of distances? Plug your favorite here. We’ll link to it in hopes of corporate sponsorship.

DK:  I do use the Garmin Fenix during races, mainly so I know exactly where I am in the race and so I don’t go too fast in the early miles; there’s no point in running 6-minute miles for the first 10 miles of a 100-mile race . . . you’ll pay dearly in the later miles with a strategy like that. 

ROW:    Incorporating weight training seems to be a mystery for many runners, especially if they are already working out their legs by running. What is your philosophy?

DK:  Back when you guys knew me in Phoenix, I was single and still really vain (as opposed to only moderately vain now), so I definitely lifted weights along with running.  But even then, I never lifted a single weight with my legs; it was all upper-body, “beach muscle”-type stuff (pull-ups, bench presses, arm curls, etc.).  These days, I rarely lift any weights anymore, besides the occasional pull-ups.  I know all the Cross-Fit Kool-Aid drinkers out there will disagree with me, but if you look at the guys at the front of the pack in ANY serious running race – regardless of the distance – they clearly aren’t spending too much time in the gym.  They run.  And then run some more.  “Cross-training” for the best runners I know means “mixing up my running route,” not kettleballs and P90X.

ROW:    Chariots of Fire or Rocky?

DK:  Depends on which Rocky movie.  There are very few movies in ANY genre better than Rocky IV.  I mean, seriously, the guy single-handedly ended the Cold War by himself.  Not only did Rocky beat those cheating Commie bastards, but he did it in Moscow, and the Soviets were actually cheering for him at the end of the movie.  I cannot imagine that the Soviets made a more preposterous propaganda Cold War movie than Rocky IV! 

But yeah, Chariots of Fire is a pretty quality flick. 

ROW:    What do you think about the barefoot running/Vibram phenomenon for distance runners?

DK:  I wholeheartedly agree with the minimalist approach to running shoes, best articulated in Born to Run.  Because I run on concrete/roads for 99.9% of my training (which is why I suck so badly on hard trails), barefoot running really isn’t an option for me.  And I think Vibrams just look funny.  But I have no real criticisms of them beyond aesthetics . . . I’m sure my own shoes weigh about the same as Vibrams.  (I wear 5oz Mizuno flats for all my 100 mile road races; I even wore them at Badwater, and had absolutely ZERO leg/foot issues).  In fact, since switching to minimalist shoes about 4-5 years ago, I’ve been injury-free (that is, when I’m not falling down mountains :) 

ROW:    You’re a lawyer when you aren’t running. Do you ever challenge other lawyers to a running contest? That would be bad-ass.

DK:         “Bad-ass” is not how I would describe the shape that most lawyers are in.

 

ROW:    We all know how great of a workout running is.  How many calories do you get to eat per day?  And can you tell our readers how many glasses of wine that translates to?

DK:         Lots and lots.  If you took my daily calorie allowance and spent it all on wine, you wouldn’t be going to work the next day.  Or the day after that.

ROW:    You’ve traveled all over.  Where is your favorite place to run?

DK:         Death Valley.  It’s just otherworldly out there. 

ROW:    One athlete to another, do you have any advice to the Detroit Redwings on how they can shake things up to win the Stanley Cup this year?

DK:         Bring back Steve Yzerman to be the new GM.  Actually, I’m more excited for this year’s NHL season than I have been in a long time.  First off, the Winter Classic will feature Detroit and Toronto in Ann Arbor, I think.  That will be awesome.  And now that Detroit is in the Eastern Conference, they will be in the same division as Florida and Tampa Bay, which means I’ll get to see them live a few times a year.  I’m guessing a #3 seed for them, and making it to the conference finals.  Not bad for a “rebuilding” year.

ROW:    Music or no music?

DK:         I love music when I’m doing a fast tempo training run (like 10 miles in under an hour).  During a marathon or an ultra, I find that music is too disassociative, and I perform my best when I’m focused in the moment and the race at hand.   On the other hand, I know plenty of really fast marathon and ultra runners who listen to music the whole race, so, like shoe type, I think it’s really an individual preference thing.

ROW:    What advice do you have for first-time marathoners Toe-Shoes Tina and Slo Jo?

DK:         Enjoy the process.  Distance running is not really about the race at the end of the training.  If you truly embrace what you are doing and trying to accomplish, you’ll not only do well in your marathon, but you’ll look back on the whole period very fondly, and probably will have learned a thing or two along the way about yourself and what you are capable of accomplishing that can be applied well outside the context of running.   Good luck!

You can catch more of Dave's trial and tribulations at his own blog.

                

Toe-Shoes Tina: Yoga For (Sort Of) Runners

Distance:  Whatever running was incidental to kick boxing today
Wine:  0.0
Stress Level:  High.  Too high.  Way too high.

For years, I've vaguely understood that yoga would be good for me.  It is pure and beautiful.  Yoga tones the body and nurtures the soul.  Dedicated practitioners glide around in their lithe little bodies, sinewy muscles rippling just enough to be sexy and feminine under their tank tops and tights.  I so yearn to be one of them.  But I don't like yoga.  I've done yoga approximately four times.  Each time with high expectations for a relaxing and profound workout experience.  Each time disappointing myself in the first 2 minutes because I can't get the breathing right.  Breathing!  I've been doing it for 34 years -- it should be the easy part!  But, alas, without fail, I'm breathing in when I'm supposed to breath out.  I'm taking three short panting breaths for every luxurious relaxing breath the instructor takes.  Soon the self doubt sets in.  I've set aside an hour for a workout and I'm pretty sure I'm burning more calories from the worrying (about breathing) than from the yoga.  Crap!  How am I supposed to burn off my wine?  How are yogis so damned skinny???  I've learned to accept that yoga does not relax me.  Punching things relaxes me.  Kicking things relaxes me.  Running hard sprints has begun to relax me.  Yoga is for people with a better sense of inner peace.

(Shockingly, this is not my idea of relaxation)

Until my damn boxing instructor made me question my hip flexors.  I'll call him Pinch Your Butt, because it his solution to everything.  Sore hip?  Your hip flexors are weak; pinch your butt when you do squats.  Sore knee?  Your hip flexors are tight; pinch your butt when you kick the bag.   Neck hurts?  Do a dead lift; pinch your butt.  What he means is you should focus on tightening your glutes, but "pinch your butt" is more pithy.  According to PYB, simply boxing 6 days a week and running is not enough for stellar fitness and will lead to injuries.  Because I want to stay healthy through training, I am reluctantly following his advice.  I've been foam rolling, stretching, and weight lifting in the evenings.  And yes, I've been pinching my butt on my dead lifts.  Then I started reading a parenting memoir called Poser:  My Life In 23 Poses.  The author gains clarity through taking up yoga.  On a whim, I tried to perform a pose she was describing, the eagle.  I learned that no part of my body twists or bends in the way necessary to accomplish this pose.  Surely PYB would approve of me incorporating yoga into my cross training!  So I ordered Yoga For Runners.  There was a beginner option, but in my mind I am not a beginner in any athletic pursuit, so I ordered intermediate.

(The Eagle.  I cannot do that pose.  Nor do I have abs like that.  These two things may be related.)

I thought my DVD would arrive Wednesday, but it arrived Tuesday, which felt like karma.  Let's talk about Tuesday.  I welcomed Tuesday before dawn by chopping and sauteing onions at 5:00 am.  Due to dance practice, I don't have time in the evening to cook dinner, so I needed to get dinner in the crock pot:  palak paneer, yum!  But not so yum at 5:00 am.  Civilized people do not chop onions before the sun comes up.  Then smoothies for the family.  Then pack my stuff and off to the gym.  Killer workout.  Straight to work.  Leave work early to get the girls and get home in time to get Daughter #1 to her 5:30 dance practice.  While she is getting ready, I continue to frantically try to finish a couple more items on my work "to do" list.  Husband #1 is out of town for the night, so Daughter #2 and I hang with Shoe Killer (remember her?) and her youngest daughter at dance class until 7:00.  We mostly commiserate over how profoundly unglamorous parenting is.  Rush home, get dinner on the table, clean the kitchen while the girls make their own lunches.  Christ, my kitchen is filthy!  I live with the morbid fear that one day something terrible will happen and emergency personnel or CSI will burst into my home only to be horrified by spinach-covered dishes strewn about over my sticky counters.  You have to be prepared for all scenarios.

(Stop being judgy, Sarah Sidle and Nick Stokes.  You don't know what it's like to have small children at home.)

Finally, the girls are settled into bed watching Netflix at 8:00 pm (yeah, I'm that parent) and I can break out the yoga DVD.  The DVD is 82 minutes long.  I figure I'll go for as long as I can.  The package informs me I need a yoga belt.  WTF is a yoga belt?  I guess I'll skip whatever pose requires it.  The menu options pop up and I resist the urge select "skip intro."  One cannot be in a hurry when one is doing yoga.  The intro was very helpful.  It informed me to consult my physician (yeah right) and to do yoga on an empty stomach (crap, well, I ate Indian food, yoga's from ancient India, so maybe it is okay, maybe they meant don't eat a burger and fries).  Then we began. Inhale and reach your arms to the ceiling.  Score!  I can do that!  I'm totally a rock star.  Soon, we exhale and fold our bodies in half to touch the floor.  Wait.  Should I be able to touch the floor with my legs straight?  All the people on the DVD can.  Uh oh.  Then we go to plank.  I can do that.  I do that all the time.  I'm practically a yogi.  Daughter #2 comes in complaining that she wants to watch something else on Netflix.  She stares at the options for about 3 minutes before I snap "just pick one!"  (Not very yoga-like).  Back to the yoga DVD for me.  We go into a series of poses involving lunges.  They both strengthen and stretch the hips.  With each successive lunge pose, my legs shook and my femur felt as if it might rip from my hip socket.  Every time we released into the downward dog, I thought I'd never felt any position so wonderful as a downward dog.  It gently stretched my hamstrings and back while replacing my femur to its rightful place in my hip.  Every time the instructor told me to step from my downward dog haven into another deep lunge, I silently cursed her (again, not very yoga-like, I know).  It did not help that she kept reminding us to smile on the inside.  I will not smile on the inside.  Then we got to the lizard.

(I did not have an inner smile when my body was contorted like this.)

It did me in.  I collapsed onto the floor, eventually spending the duration of the pose in the downward dog.  I was ready to quit, but then we did pigeon pose.  It felt divine.  At that lovely moment, I'd been going for about 30 minutes and opted to quit while ahead.  My hips felt weirdly painful, but looser and my back less compressed.  And I was sweating.  I've now been sitting for 45 minutes typing this post with no sciatic pain.  This alone makes me think I should finish the DVD tomorrow.  From there, well, we'll see. I'm still not sure it will make me a better runner, but I could stand to gain some flexibility.  I am excited to tell PYB about my breakthrough tomorrow.  I'm sure I'm in for a big fat "I told you so . . .  And pinch your butt because your hip flexors are tight."

Slo Jo: What the Pluck

Distance: 12 miles

Pace: Ugh

Attitude: Poor

Wine: None (possible explanation for baditude)

I meet Coach at 5:30 a.m. It is cold out—like 60. I know that isn’t actually cold, but after my Santa Monica running day when it was 64 and I boiled to death in my long sleeves, I decide to wear a tank top and shorts. Turns out, when the sun is not up, it makes a difference. I burrow into my car seat for warmth. The car seat is warm, and cozy, and clean, like a lovely soft bed. So comfortable…so warm…

Coach gives me a wrinkled jacket that looks like it has been wadded into an extremely tiny ball and wedged under the car seat. He tells me it is time to go. So much for my pleasant slide into sleep in the car. 

Beneath the jacket I am wearing new shorts. They are the kind that sort of come up on the sides, kind of retro 80s. 

I’ve been afraid of wearing such things because I fear they are too short (at least for me—on skinny people they look great), but I was having a body-confident morning and on they went. These new shorts are okay for about seven miles. Then they decide they want to ride up and live in my crotch.

So it goes like this:

Step step step step adjust shorts

Step step step step remove shorts from crotch

Step step step step adjust

Step step step pluck 

Coach finally asks me what I am doing since I have my hands in my crotch all the time. I explain I’m having a ride-up problem which is ALSO causing chafing.

I tell you what. I don’t talk about thigh chafing with just anyone (other than you, Gentle Reader). But after you run 12 miles with someone, you suddenly feel completely comfortable discussing the state of your nipples. Do they chafe? What chafing product are you using? You can discuss flatulence or excessive mucus production, and you can plot your bathroom needs together. Running is a catalyst to getting to know everything you never wanted to know about the other person.

So I explain my crotch problem, and Coach gives me some udder cream and I apply it. To my inner thighs. In front of a man. This is the sort of thing that wouldn’t have happened a year ago. I would have suffered through it or faked an aneurysm or something to get out of completing the run. You’d think this experience would inspire me to lose the 10 pounds or whatever that would get rid of the chub rub problem, but no. Instead I’m proud for being so mature and accepting of myself.

(You try having a self-esteem moment while applying udder cream in public.)

Meanwhile, putting aside my crotch/thigh issues, I am in a bit of a mood. I just don't ever quite get into the run. I advocate walking as a perfectly good exercise. My shirt is riding up. My left knee hurts. Then my right knee hurts. I keep Coach informed of every one of these issues. Then my toe hurts. Then I note we are going too fast.

“You can just do six, you know,” he says. He is either using reverse psychology or trying to get rid of me.

“Six is a totally reasonable amount of miles,” I say.

“It is. I’m gonna do 12. But you can just stop at the cars after six.”

“Well, I just WILL,” I say. “This is horrible. I hate running. My headphones hurt.” Then I drink some water and resolve to stop complaining, and run the second six. I survive it, perhaps complaining a tiny bit. Coach turns up his music to drown me out.

***

I learned later, from Facebook, that one of my friends, K, had seen me on the run! She posted on my wall that there had been a Slo Jo sighting. That was awesome! I hope she didn’t see me while I was busy pulling my shorts out of my crotch or slathering udder cream on myself. K had a baby and already is back to looking like a model. She probably is not doing the step step step pluck. But great to see friends out running! If you have a Slo Jo sighting, please say hi. It will give me an excuse to stop. And adjust my shorts.

Toe-Shoes Tina: Dry Heaving In The Corner

Distance:  0.0

Pushups completed:  5,932 (I was not counting, so it may have been less, but I doubt it)

Wine:  0.0  (is it Friday yet?)

This is not a running post.  Why?  Because I haven’t run since Monday.  Hey, I’m not in training yet.  Don’t judge.  Here’s what I did instead:  a 60 minute kickboxing class.  My regular class starts at 6:30 in the morning.  Now that it is actually turning into autumn, this means the sun is just rising when it starts and the temperature is downright refreshing (low 70s).  Also, some of my favorite gals go to this class, so it is a workout/social hour.  It’s hard to imagine skipping this class to go for a run. 

(What?  Socializing totally burns at least 10 calories per minute.)

One of my friends, I’ll call her Jackrabbit because she’s a fast runner (though this is probably an insult because I’m pretty sure she can outrun a jackrabbit), is such a gifted athlete she borders on superhuman.  She recently hurt our trainer’s feelings by calling his class easy.  Some background on our trainer.  I’ll call him Pirate because he’s currently hobbling around on one good leg.  He broke the foot on the other leg by kicking somebody in the elbow.  True story.  I hang out with some badass m f’ers.  In any event, Pirate’s classes are usually very challenging and he takes a rather sadistic pride in making us hurt, so Jackrabbit’s comments wounded him greatly.  This led to a very entertaining exchange on Facebook where he promised that today’s class would be so hard Pirate would have Jackrabbit dry heaving in the corner.  If Jackrabbit is dry heaving from a workout, that probably means I’m lying on the floor in full cardiac arrest – one heck of a workout!  Needless to say, I was looking forward to today’s class.

(Believe it or not, Jackrabbit is actually even more adorable than this jackrabbit and can probably jump higher, too.)

So here’s what we did.  Warm-up:  25 burpees, 25 squat jumps, 25 pushups, 25 v-ups, run a lap around the building (.11 miles – thanks, MapMyRun).  Repeat 3 times.  Warm yet?  I was.  Let class begin.  100 straight punches (jab, cross, jab, cross), 100 alternating right/left hooks, 20 right kicks, 20 left kicks.  Then we did several rounds of combinations involving punches, kicks, sprawls, and elbows.  Then we did a partner drill where we had to shuffle from bag to bag and throw combinations on Pirate’s direction.  I paired up with Jackrabbit and pushed myself harder trying to keep up with her.  Then we did more squats.  Then we held a squat with a 90 degree bend in our knees. Then we did “baby squats” from that position, never fully straightening our legs.  Then we did 5 squats, walk your hands out, 5 pushups, walk your hands back, repeat.  Then he gave us 60 seconds to do 100 pushups.  I made it to 51.  Then back on the bag for more punching and kicking. 

Definitely warm now.  Next we went out back (into the lovely weather) and did tire flip suicide sprints.  This entails sprinting approximately 10 feet to a tire, jumping up on the tire, jumping down, sprawling into pushup position, jumping back onto your feet, then flipping the tire end over end.  Then you sprint back to the starting point and do it again.  When you’ve flipped your tire approximately 10 times, you get low and drag it backward across the parking lot to the original starting point.  After that, we went inside and bear crawled with dumbbells (mine were 10 lbs) approximately 30 feet, did 10 pushups, 30 bicep curls, 30 overhead presses, and bear crawl backward back.  Repeat.  We did each of those drills (tire flip suicide sprints and bear crawl) two times.  Then we held a plank for what felt like 30 minutes, but was probably only 1 minute. 

(T-Rex also hates planks.  I identify with poor T-Rex, not just because I loathe pushups and planks, but also because my arms feel ridiculously short for my body when I'm trying to throw long punches.)

Class ended without myocardial infarction and with no dry heaving by Jackrabbit (in the corner or otherwise).  Nonetheless it was a killer workout.  I know this because when I was getting dressed and trying to put my earrings in, I almost couldn’t do it because my hands were shaking so bad.  So, no, I did not run today.  But I did get my a$# kicked and, besides, according to Runners World, cross-training is good for you.  (Sure, they talk about cross training in terms of swimming or biking, but I’m sure Pirate’s boxing class is right up there.)  Also, my boxing gym is having a margarita boot camp on Saturday.  Can you beat that?  I don't think you can. 

(This is an a picture of my margarita following my gym's last margarita boot camp.)

Slo Jo: My Mizunos Run the Santa Monica Stairs

Distance: 6 miles
Stairs: MANY
Wine: Two gl. tempranillo at Bottle Rock in Culver City (necessary after 45-minute attempt to park), then one glass at dinner with friends

Toe-Shoes Tina and I, along with two other friends, have an upcoming race called the Bisbee 1000 Great Stair Climb. This is a 5K that features 1000 stairs. I have been training on exactly zero stairs, unless you count the two flights I usually take in the parking garage when I park at the office. And sometimes? I take the elevator for those two flights. Look, I wear some killer heels.

So today I decided to try out the Santa Monica Stairs. I just realized when I was looking up something to link to that there are two pairs, a wooden one and a concrete one. Never did see the wooden ones. Anyway, there are 189 steps in the concrete ones, which is plenty.

I ran from my friend E's house. She advised me to take 11th Street, which was easy. She also said she heard the Stairs are quite a meat market, so I was looking forward to the people watching. After all, at the Culver City Farmer's Market yesterday, I saw a young man with very very defined arm muscles carefully select a bunch of carrots. So cute. Maybe there would be more eye candy on the stairs.

Alas, no. I would describe the scene as (a) men who look like they are screenwriters and live in Laurel Canyon (e.g., lots of moppy hair, old rock T-shirts); (b) old people who are irritatingly good at the stairs (c) insanely fit young women with no asses whatsoever. There was one young man who would do pull ups at the bottom of the flights. And then there was this lady, who seemed nice but turned into a mad photobomber:

Every time I would stop to take a shot, she would appear out of nowhere and get in the frame. She wasn't even cute about it, like this guy:

Anyway, I went down the stairs, basically clutching the handrail. After my fall on Saturday, I was feeling nervous. I thought negative thoughts to myself about how if I did fall, I would probably break bones and there would be no way to stop my rapid descent down the whole flight. I'm pretty sure this is what they call the power of negative thinking. I learned it from watching OWN.

I only made it back up the stairs three times. Honest to God, it sucked. You go up a long flight, and then there is a landing, and then there's another flight, and it never ends. My heart rate soared to 175, and I would have to stop at the landings and catch my breath. The super-fit ass-less women were having no problems. Maybe stairs are easier without an ass. The moppy-haired record producers were struggling, which was good; they'd probably smoked on the way over to the stairs. The old people trudged up like they were going to school in the snow, uphill both ways, resigned to their fate. They were awesome.

(I took this one for TST, as she has a series of pics of her toe-shoes in scenic environments. Mine are not toe shoes, obviously.)

After three attempts, I was ready to never see a stair again and begin the three-mile run back. Thank goodness I don't live around here or I would think I should go more often and work up to being able to do these better. I have a really good excuse, living in Phoenix, for never returning. That said, I'm worried about the Bisbee Stair Climb. Maybe--just maybe--I'll stop taking the parking garage elevator as a first step. 

Slo Jo: When You Fall Get Up, Oh Oh

Distance: 14 miles (Saturday), 8 miles (Monday)

Beers: Lost track (Sunday, at baseball game. Beers are patriotic.)

Bruises and cuts: Two really bruised knees, scrapes on hands and elbow, giant abrasion on left knee

Waka waka lyrics: One, in title

I’m lying on my back in the middle of the sidewalk on Central. A minute ago, I was jogging along, thinking how after 11.5 miles, we were getting to the end. Now I’m looking at the sky in some shock. I sit up cautiously and look at my knees, which are scraped and bleeding. I try to brush some of the gray concrete dust off my legs.

Coach trots up, concerned. “What happened?” We both look at the offending sidewalk, where an uneven crack has left a small ledge for a unaware jogger to catch a toe.

I had fallen—spectacularly fallen. I caught my foot on the small ledge and saw the sidewalk rushing up to meet me. I remember a fleeting thought about needing to save the iPhone I had in my hand as my knees and hands hit the pavement, and then I hit my left shoulder and flipped over onto my back. It hurt. I seem to remember falling all the time as a kid, but I don’t recall having the distinct feeling I might not get up again. I will blame it on being taller now and not on being way older.

“Tired legs,” explains Coach. He hoists me up by my elbows, and we walk a little while as I examine my wounds and feel more than a little embarrassed. But eventually I am ready to go again. It hurts, but I’m fine. I want to finish the run.

(Oww. Oww. Oww. Oww. Owwwww.)

I learn later that day that a friend running an ultramarathon fell that day, too—only his fall was much worse. Only five miles in to his 100-mile trail run, he fell so badly that it took him three hours to limp to the aid station six miles away. I hope it is just bad bruises and nothing more serious. I was at least able to get moving again, and felt lucky that nothing had been broken.

After the run, I went home, picked gravel out of my skin, and jumped in the car to drive to LA. I’m going to say running 14 miles plus a bad fall plus sitting in a car for six hours did absolutely nothing for sore muscles or swollen knees, and when I arrived, my poor friend E had to listen to me groan every time I moved. She had booked us massages that evening as a birthday present (my birthday just keeps on going! Yay!), and the masseuse was appalled at my knee, which had swollen to the size of a grapefruit. 

After icing my knees, I felt better on Sunday. We took the train to San Diego and went to watch the Padres play the stupid Dodgers. Dodgers fan in San Diego bar:

D:  Yeah, we already won! And we pissed in the Diamondbacks’ pool!

Me: That was uncool. I’m from Phoenix. Not sportsmanlike.

D: I hope they SHIT in it, too!

Stay classy, Dodgers’ fans. Stay classy.

In any event, I think all the Bud Lights at the game helped my run today. I spent a little time on the couch feeling sorry for myself because my legs ached from the 14-miler and my knees still hurt, but then I reminded myself I was half a mile from the ocean and I liked running by the ocean. It was 64 degrees, so I wore a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. No one else in California appeared to think it was the middle of winter, and they were right. It was quite warm in the sun. I felt like I was part of some religious sect that required me to cover all parts of my body.

(Santa Monica pier. Of course I was wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Who wouldn't in this weather?)

I ran on the Strand past the Santa Monica pier and up to Will Rogers State Beach, which was about four miles. My legs started off tired, and my knees hurt enough that I was wondering if I still had swelling and whether running was a good idea. But then something really good happened—much better than falling with alarming speed on my face. After I turned around, I started running…faster. I felt like I could just go! I would look at my Nike sports watch (suck it, Garmin) and it told me I was running around 10 minute miles. For me, this is JUST remarkable, and especially after having run four already. I kept it up, thinking I could always walk if it got too hard. It didn’t. I just flew those last four miles. I didn’t feel any pain in my knees. I just felt like a runner. An overdressed runner, but a runner. And that felt good.