Miles Week 13: 24.88 (Sunday's long run: 8.88 miles)
Miles Week 14: 19.5 (Sunday's long run: 18 miles)
Miles To Date: 210.38
Eight hours ago my group (the "Cathy O'Brien's," named after a marathoner who made the Olympic Trials at 16 years of age and remains the US's only 2-time female Olympic marathoner) wrapped up our 18-mile run in near-perfect time for our 12-minute mile pace: 3 hours, 35 minutes (we finished one minute too fast).
Incidentally, we passed the halfway mark, mile 13, at 2 hrs, 30 minutes, which is in the neighborhood of winning Olympic marathon times for women... that's running 26.2 miles at a pace of around a 6-minute mile.
I tried this time to be aware of the state of my body throughout the run: An easier-than-usual start - really feeling comfortable by mile 6 (this is normal for me, I've learned) - starting to tire by mile 12 - feeling muscle fatigue and painfully tight knees by mile 15 - pushing through serious achilles pain and desperately looking for mile markers by mile 16.5 - and limping over to the food table after crossing the final marker at mile 18.
As we say down in Texas: LORDY!
The "hot-and-throbbing" part, of course, is my legs. Good God. I finally took the plunge, so to speak, and employed the therapy I've been hearing about, but was just too damn chicken to take: a post-run ICE BATH. I like a cold plunge after a sauna, but a straight-up ice-bath is a different animal altogether. I kept my shirt on, and I screamed getting into it, but after that, believe it or not, it actually didn't feel cold enough (45 degrees F, 4-8 minutes). Three bags of ice next time, instead of one.
Then I moaned and complained getting up the stairs to my room, then - save for a lunch break on the back porch - I pretty much spent the rest of the afternoon horizontal.
And not even productive horizontal! Not even sleep-productive! Too hot to sleep; too tired to think or move - there was minor email, there was no telecommuted work, there was no online Scrabble. I realized some weeks ago after the 12-mile run that I actually even have difficulty thinking after these long runs... when I mentioned this to my friend (after forgetting, mid-sentence, what the hell I was trying to tell her), she said, "Well of course! All the blood is in your legs!" This may or may not be true, but in any case I do have difficulty holding a conversation, lately, on Sunday afternoons.
How do the pros DO it? My weekly mileage is wildly divergent, hovering around a median average of about 15 -20 miles a week. Serious marathoners, of many ages, professional or not, usually run about 50-70 miles per week. How do their muscles and tendons and joints TAKE IT? Now my legs feel tight, and tired, but not throbbing. There was a time when 6 miles was practically unthinkable, and now it's my warm-up. Will a time come when my muscles and psychology have developed to the point that a 7- or 10-mile maintenance run in the middle of the week is a normal thing?
My friend Chris, in my running group, thinks that when you start asking those questions the answers lie mostly in our individual DNA: Some people, no doubt, are born to run. They are gifted with a naturally beautiful form which takes, relatively speaking, very little toll on their bodies. No doubt of course this is absolutely true - and yet, even in a practice to which I am not born, I have lots of room to grow.
And I just wonder: What's the limit? There is one. What in the hell is it?
It's impossible for me to run 18 miles (at a relatively fast pace, for a non-runner), to experience the excitement and companionship and sheer joy of this, without thinking forward to plan the next challenge. The New York City Marathon, in the town I have grown to love, to adore? The Boston Marathon, the world's oldest marathon and no doubt a crown experience for any marathon runner? The qualifying pace for Boston, for women 35-39, is an 8.5 minute mile. I'm training shorter runs right now between 9-11 minutes, and long runs at 12. It would take long and concentrated training to make that pace ... but still, it might very well be within my reach.
Is it? Is it possible?
5.18.2008
5.04.2008
WEEKS 11 & 12: 'Round the Bend
Miles Week 11: 7 (Sunday's long run: 7 miles)
Miles Week 12: 24.5 (Sunday's long run: 16 miles)
Miles To Date: 166
So two weeks ago, with the 14 mile run, we crossed that big halfway mark: .9 mi past half-marathon distance (the marathon being 26.2).
Last week the recovery run was half of that: 7 miles. SHORT AND EASY, in this context - and it's amazing to me that it really feels that way! 7 miles two months ago was nearly unthinkable!
Similarly: Today we added two miles to our longest distance and ran 16. To accommodate these increasingly really long runs, our coach, starting today, has added a minute to our pace (so my group now runs 12-minute miles instead of 11-minute miles) and adjusted our walk-run ratio from 5:1 (5 min running, 1 min walking) to 4:1.
We finished this run with our timing on the dot: 3 hours, 12 minutes, of running.
How do I feel after 3 hours and 12 minutes of running?
Pretty much like somebody beat me with a stick. And not just my legs. My arms hurt! How about that?
But the cool thing is that this is exactly how I felt after the 10 mile run... and 12 miles... and 14.
Let me reiterate: I feel the same after 16 miles as I did after 10 – not worse. And that means this is damn well-designed training program.
And of course 10 miles today feels, if long, totally manageable. Likewise, my solo maintenance runs this week were between 4 and 5 miles, at a 9.5-minute pace instead of 11 minutes, and I didn't take any walk breaks.
IMPOSSIBLE for me when I started 2.5 months ago.
Really, it's not amazing or shocking; it makes perfect sense. As we tell our students in the afterschool circus arts program for which I occasionally teach: "The more you practice, the better you get." Still, the corporeal experience of this is awe-inspiring. We so often think of ourselves in static terms: This is who I am. So many pounds. So much muscle to so much fat. These strengths, these weaknesses. These likes, these dislikes.
Period.
I won't be getting taller anytime soon (at least, not without platforms). But I totally found a new muscle on the side of my calf this morning! I'm actually changing my body, on a cellular level, just by doing what I'm capable of doing. I'm changing who I am.
I love extending this logic to the rest of my life. Do I want to run a marathon? Okay. It will require time, energy and education - but of course I can do that (and may I add, MANY who are not in the generally good state of health I enjoy are doing it as well - more slowly, but they're doing it!).
So what else do I want? Who do I want to be? Whatever those things are will require focus, time, energy, and education - but if I'm willing to make the commitment, of course I can have them. I'm 36! And one of our East Bay runners today celebrated her 70th birthday with a 16 miler. It's never too late to have fun learning more about who you really are.
Tremendously powerful lesson. Tremendously powerful, to learn that through this - to learn it in my muscles. Tremendously powerful, to witness it in the hundred or so others who also run, at 8 am, every Sunday morning at the Berkeley Marina.
Miles Week 12: 24.5 (Sunday's long run: 16 miles)
Miles To Date: 166
So two weeks ago, with the 14 mile run, we crossed that big halfway mark: .9 mi past half-marathon distance (the marathon being 26.2).
Last week the recovery run was half of that: 7 miles. SHORT AND EASY, in this context - and it's amazing to me that it really feels that way! 7 miles two months ago was nearly unthinkable!
Similarly: Today we added two miles to our longest distance and ran 16. To accommodate these increasingly really long runs, our coach, starting today, has added a minute to our pace (so my group now runs 12-minute miles instead of 11-minute miles) and adjusted our walk-run ratio from 5:1 (5 min running, 1 min walking) to 4:1.
We finished this run with our timing on the dot: 3 hours, 12 minutes, of running.
How do I feel after 3 hours and 12 minutes of running?
Pretty much like somebody beat me with a stick. And not just my legs. My arms hurt! How about that?
But the cool thing is that this is exactly how I felt after the 10 mile run... and 12 miles... and 14.
Let me reiterate: I feel the same after 16 miles as I did after 10 – not worse. And that means this is damn well-designed training program.
And of course 10 miles today feels, if long, totally manageable. Likewise, my solo maintenance runs this week were between 4 and 5 miles, at a 9.5-minute pace instead of 11 minutes, and I didn't take any walk breaks.
IMPOSSIBLE for me when I started 2.5 months ago.
Really, it's not amazing or shocking; it makes perfect sense. As we tell our students in the afterschool circus arts program for which I occasionally teach: "The more you practice, the better you get." Still, the corporeal experience of this is awe-inspiring. We so often think of ourselves in static terms: This is who I am. So many pounds. So much muscle to so much fat. These strengths, these weaknesses. These likes, these dislikes.
Period.
I won't be getting taller anytime soon (at least, not without platforms). But I totally found a new muscle on the side of my calf this morning! I'm actually changing my body, on a cellular level, just by doing what I'm capable of doing. I'm changing who I am.
I love extending this logic to the rest of my life. Do I want to run a marathon? Okay. It will require time, energy and education - but of course I can do that (and may I add, MANY who are not in the generally good state of health I enjoy are doing it as well - more slowly, but they're doing it!).
So what else do I want? Who do I want to be? Whatever those things are will require focus, time, energy, and education - but if I'm willing to make the commitment, of course I can have them. I'm 36! And one of our East Bay runners today celebrated her 70th birthday with a 16 miler. It's never too late to have fun learning more about who you really are.
Tremendously powerful lesson. Tremendously powerful, to learn that through this - to learn it in my muscles. Tremendously powerful, to witness it in the hundred or so others who also run, at 8 am, every Sunday morning at the Berkeley Marina.
4.23.2008
Here's How YOU Can Help!
I realized recently that I've been sending the blog link out on nearly all my email signatures, but haven't made an easy-to-find place on the blog for people to learn about how to donate.
In addition to all this running, I've committed to raise $1,800 for the SF AIDS Foundation before June 1. So far I am about halfway there.
EVEN IF YOU CAN'T GIVE MUCH, I CAN STILL REAAAAAALLLLY USE YOUR HELP!!!
You don't have to give much for your donation to make an impact. I have a lot of artist friends who have given under $100, and it is amazing to me how quickly these small amounts add up.
In addition to making me feel really happy, your dollars go FAR to support one of the most well-established and far-reaching health and social service organizations in the United States. In giving, you are not only helping thousands of people and families AROUND THE GLOBE (not just in San Francisco!) whose lives have been affected by HIV - you are also helping to LOWER THE RATE of new HIV infections.
If you'd like to donate online, you can do it in one easy mouse-click right here:
http://www.aidsmarathon.com/participant.asp?runner=SF-1090&EventCode=SF08
You can also write a check, made out to the SF AIDS FOUNDATION, with my name and runner #1090 in the subject field, and send it to me:
Laura Ricci
2425 East 28th Street
Oakland, CA 94601
ENORMOUS THANKS TO THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE ALREADY MADE DONATIONS!
In addition to all this running, I've committed to raise $1,800 for the SF AIDS Foundation before June 1. So far I am about halfway there.
EVEN IF YOU CAN'T GIVE MUCH, I CAN STILL REAAAAAALLLLY USE YOUR HELP!!!
You don't have to give much for your donation to make an impact. I have a lot of artist friends who have given under $100, and it is amazing to me how quickly these small amounts add up.
In addition to making me feel really happy, your dollars go FAR to support one of the most well-established and far-reaching health and social service organizations in the United States. In giving, you are not only helping thousands of people and families AROUND THE GLOBE (not just in San Francisco!) whose lives have been affected by HIV - you are also helping to LOWER THE RATE of new HIV infections.
If you'd like to donate online, you can do it in one easy mouse-click right here:
http://www.aidsmarathon.com/participant.asp?runner=SF-1090&EventCode=SF08
You can also write a check, made out to the SF AIDS FOUNDATION, with my name and runner #1090 in the subject field, and send it to me:
Laura Ricci
2425 East 28th Street
Oakland, CA 94601
ENORMOUS THANKS TO THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE ALREADY MADE DONATIONS!
4.22.2008
WEEK 10: It's Good to Pretend
Miles This Week: 25 (Sunday's long run: 14 miles)
Miles To Date: 134.5
It's helpful, at the beginning, to pretend you're just going out for a little jog, or for a run of some distance you have already achieved.
It's helpful to continue pretending this throughout the run, especially when you are tired.
When you are too tired to pretend anymore, it's helpful to admire the flowers, or to notice the spectacular view of the Golden Gate bridge, or to eavesdrop on your companions' conversations about their kid's upcoming birthday party or their recent trip to Boston or the price of gas.
When you are finally too tired to even think, it's helpful then to just plod forward until the next one-minute walk break.
And two hours later, at the end, you don't have to pretend any longer, or think, because then it really is just two more miles, one more mile, three-quarters of a mile, half a mile - and then you SEE THE END AHEAD, the table laden with bananas, apples, oranges, popcorn, bagels, and PB&J which you normally wouldn't care for but which, after 14 miles, is absolutely THE MOST DELICIOUS and satisfying thing you've ever put in your mouth.
And then you've done it.
And then it's good to take three ibuprofen and go about your day and pretend you haven't done it, because otherwise you'll spend the rest of the day in bed.
Moaning.
And not in a good way.
Miles To Date: 134.5
It's helpful, at the beginning, to pretend you're just going out for a little jog, or for a run of some distance you have already achieved.
It's helpful to continue pretending this throughout the run, especially when you are tired.
When you are too tired to pretend anymore, it's helpful to admire the flowers, or to notice the spectacular view of the Golden Gate bridge, or to eavesdrop on your companions' conversations about their kid's upcoming birthday party or their recent trip to Boston or the price of gas.
When you are finally too tired to even think, it's helpful then to just plod forward until the next one-minute walk break.
And two hours later, at the end, you don't have to pretend any longer, or think, because then it really is just two more miles, one more mile, three-quarters of a mile, half a mile - and then you SEE THE END AHEAD, the table laden with bananas, apples, oranges, popcorn, bagels, and PB&J which you normally wouldn't care for but which, after 14 miles, is absolutely THE MOST DELICIOUS and satisfying thing you've ever put in your mouth.
And then you've done it.
And then it's good to take three ibuprofen and go about your day and pretend you haven't done it, because otherwise you'll spend the rest of the day in bed.
Moaning.
And not in a good way.
4.15.2008
WEEKS 8 & 9: I'm Giving Up
Miles Week 8: 22 (Sunday's long run: 12 miles)
Miles Week 9: 10.5 (Sunday's long run: 6 miles)
Miles To Date: 109.5
Just kidding! Not really! I wouldn't dream of it!
Well ... okay, last week I was pretty damn tired and off-kilter ... but still, I wouldn't dream of quitting.
And for so many reasons, which is the magic of this crazy program. Barring injury, once you are in it's not easy to quit. I truly am not even tempted - crazy though it sounds, they make long miles relatively easy and fun - but if I were, it would be a challenge. I am now friends with all the folks in my pace group. They expect me to be there, and I look forward to seeing them. There's a rhythm to the training schedule that has become part of my life, which I would very much miss were I to stop. There's the endorphin addiction, for sure. And then of course there's the fundraising commitment: After May 2, if you are still in the program, you sign a form COMMITTING to giving the SF AIDS Foundation $1800 by June, no matter what. If you can't raise it, they take it from your credit card. Period.
So, yes. There's that.
I think it's genius! Some friends have expressed some alarm about the financial commitment part, but I think without it, it would be too easy to quit. They get to raise money, I get to absolutely change my life and body and self, forever. That sounds perhaps dangerously fanatical, I know, but it's true. I can't imagine the kind of strength and pride I will feel when I can know that I've run a marathon. It's spirit-fuel for so many things.
That said...
A week ago this past Sunday, we ran 12 miles. Isn't that insane? What's nuttier is that, although I was tired by the end, I wasn't spent; I could absolutely have gone another two miles. Let's hope I can say that this coming Sunday, when the distance is 14.
12 miles intimidated me. I once ran 10 miles on my own, years ago, so three weeks ago when 10 was the distance I knew from experience that it was within my capacity. 12 miles was a first, and I was nervous. And as is often the case, the first 3 miles or so were challenging. But you keep going, and before long it's been 6 miles, then 8, and by then your body is awake and chugging and you're in a groove. The company is entertaining, the view is spectacular (we run along the western Berkeley shore, with a full view of the SF skyline, Angel Island, and the Golden Gate bridge) - you've got your little running snacks and your sports drink (refilled at stations peopled with volunteers along the way) and it just feels good, even when your body starts to fatigue.
That's a good day, anyway, and the 12-mile day turned out to be a good day for me.
A good day, incidentally, is pretty much guaranteed by A) adequate sleep, B) proper nutrition and hydration, and C) general emotional balance the few days preceding the long run. A bad day is pretty much guaranteed by lack of any of the following. That's my experience, anyway. If I drink water and eat a decent amount of clean food the day preceding, and sleep, I perform well and feel okay. The one run that nearly killed me (7 miles) was preceded by a week of sickness, sleep deficit, and dehydration. It can sneak up on you. With a life as generally unregulated as mine, it helps to have a real motivation binding me to a regular self-care routine.
I do think my vitamins help, too.
This week was our first recovery week. From here on out, we increase our long-run distance by two miles every two weeks, and in the alternate weeks we run half the distance of the previous week's run. So, after 12, last Sunday was 6 (I actually slept in and did it at the gym Monday morning!); this Sunday will be 14, the week following that 7; then 16, then 8, and so forth. I think once we hit 20 (then 10) we increase by one mile until we reach 23, then we do shorter runs for 2 weeks and then we run the marathon, 26.2 miles.
It sounds like math. But it's really just running.
By the way, I don't look anything like any of those women in the running magazines. If my body has changed, you can't really see it, at least not yet (well, the shins, a bit. But that's it.). This is true, I believe, of most everyone in the program. Except for the very fast experienced runners, most of us don't look like athletes. Most of us in fact look remarkably UNathletic... you would be surprised at the folks you pass in a day who have 12 miles, or 26, or some equally remarkable achievement, already under their belts! It excites me to reflect that possibility: You don't have to already BE an athlete, to become one. You just have to show up at the Berkeley Marina Sunday mornings at 8, hang out out with nice people, and do the best you can, at whatever pace is right for you, taking the walking breaks you need and drinking water and eating sports gummies. Oh, and do that twice a week on your own. That's it.
That, and raise $1800. HELP! SUPPORT! ME! PLEASE! THANK! YOU!
http://www.aidsmarathon.com/participant.asp?runner=SF-1090&EventCode=SF08
Miles Week 9: 10.5 (Sunday's long run: 6 miles)
Miles To Date: 109.5
Just kidding! Not really! I wouldn't dream of it!
Well ... okay, last week I was pretty damn tired and off-kilter ... but still, I wouldn't dream of quitting.
And for so many reasons, which is the magic of this crazy program. Barring injury, once you are in it's not easy to quit. I truly am not even tempted - crazy though it sounds, they make long miles relatively easy and fun - but if I were, it would be a challenge. I am now friends with all the folks in my pace group. They expect me to be there, and I look forward to seeing them. There's a rhythm to the training schedule that has become part of my life, which I would very much miss were I to stop. There's the endorphin addiction, for sure. And then of course there's the fundraising commitment: After May 2, if you are still in the program, you sign a form COMMITTING to giving the SF AIDS Foundation $1800 by June, no matter what. If you can't raise it, they take it from your credit card. Period.
So, yes. There's that.
I think it's genius! Some friends have expressed some alarm about the financial commitment part, but I think without it, it would be too easy to quit. They get to raise money, I get to absolutely change my life and body and self, forever. That sounds perhaps dangerously fanatical, I know, but it's true. I can't imagine the kind of strength and pride I will feel when I can know that I've run a marathon. It's spirit-fuel for so many things.
That said...
A week ago this past Sunday, we ran 12 miles. Isn't that insane? What's nuttier is that, although I was tired by the end, I wasn't spent; I could absolutely have gone another two miles. Let's hope I can say that this coming Sunday, when the distance is 14.
12 miles intimidated me. I once ran 10 miles on my own, years ago, so three weeks ago when 10 was the distance I knew from experience that it was within my capacity. 12 miles was a first, and I was nervous. And as is often the case, the first 3 miles or so were challenging. But you keep going, and before long it's been 6 miles, then 8, and by then your body is awake and chugging and you're in a groove. The company is entertaining, the view is spectacular (we run along the western Berkeley shore, with a full view of the SF skyline, Angel Island, and the Golden Gate bridge) - you've got your little running snacks and your sports drink (refilled at stations peopled with volunteers along the way) and it just feels good, even when your body starts to fatigue.
That's a good day, anyway, and the 12-mile day turned out to be a good day for me.
A good day, incidentally, is pretty much guaranteed by A) adequate sleep, B) proper nutrition and hydration, and C) general emotional balance the few days preceding the long run. A bad day is pretty much guaranteed by lack of any of the following. That's my experience, anyway. If I drink water and eat a decent amount of clean food the day preceding, and sleep, I perform well and feel okay. The one run that nearly killed me (7 miles) was preceded by a week of sickness, sleep deficit, and dehydration. It can sneak up on you. With a life as generally unregulated as mine, it helps to have a real motivation binding me to a regular self-care routine.
I do think my vitamins help, too.
This week was our first recovery week. From here on out, we increase our long-run distance by two miles every two weeks, and in the alternate weeks we run half the distance of the previous week's run. So, after 12, last Sunday was 6 (I actually slept in and did it at the gym Monday morning!); this Sunday will be 14, the week following that 7; then 16, then 8, and so forth. I think once we hit 20 (then 10) we increase by one mile until we reach 23, then we do shorter runs for 2 weeks and then we run the marathon, 26.2 miles.
It sounds like math. But it's really just running.
By the way, I don't look anything like any of those women in the running magazines. If my body has changed, you can't really see it, at least not yet (well, the shins, a bit. But that's it.). This is true, I believe, of most everyone in the program. Except for the very fast experienced runners, most of us don't look like athletes. Most of us in fact look remarkably UNathletic... you would be surprised at the folks you pass in a day who have 12 miles, or 26, or some equally remarkable achievement, already under their belts! It excites me to reflect that possibility: You don't have to already BE an athlete, to become one. You just have to show up at the Berkeley Marina Sunday mornings at 8, hang out out with nice people, and do the best you can, at whatever pace is right for you, taking the walking breaks you need and drinking water and eating sports gummies. Oh, and do that twice a week on your own. That's it.
That, and raise $1800. HELP! SUPPORT! ME! PLEASE! THANK! YOU!
http://www.aidsmarathon.com/participant.asp?runner=SF-1090&EventCode=SF08
4.02.2008
WEEK 7: Ten in One
Miles This Week: 10 (Sunday's long run: 10 miles)
Miles to Date: 77
...that is to say: Ten miles in one run - that is to say, I ran ten miles this week, and it was in one run, my Sunday long run with my group; it was the only run I took.
Oh, all kinds of things got in the way last week: I got my period, which makes me sweat and shake and puke and pretty much uses me up for at least several days. I had a heavier work week. I slept less. And I had various personal issues stressing me out, as well.
Given how exhausted and sick I was all week, I was surprised to even finish the run. Everything after mile 4 was hard, but I managed to keep pace until the end.
Ten miles is a funny milestone. If it's not already in your running repertoire, it sounds impossible. I have to say that these longer distances (which are increasing now for us by two miles each week) are really only conceivably achievable to me AFTER I do them. I just show up on Sunday on good faith that if everybody else can do it, I guess I can, too, and I don't think about it any more than that. And once we're running, then it's just about running, until we're done.
I can't stress enough the importance of having a trainer and, in essence, a running support group. It is of course largely about needing an educated, informed, trustworthy person to help me gauge the degree of challenge I need and to help remind me to do all the things I need to do to stay healthy and take proper care of myself as my weekly miles increase. But it's also just needing to be able to focus on the work itself, the psychological and emotional demand of it, without having to be solely in charge of negotiating the big logistical training picture. Yes, of course, people train on their own all the time. Still, when you're trying to take on something you've never done before - whether it is finishing your first marathon or improving your time - I think the emotional involvement can make it difficult to really know how much challenge is enough, and how much is too much. It's helpful to have the perspective and encouragement of someone who's NOT emotionally invested, who can stand back and say, Yes, ten miles will be challenging, but you're ready for it, and if you need help or support along the way, I can offer that.
MEANWHILE: I would like to report - I think, through all this, I've lost all of one pound. Yes, on long run days, I get very, very hungry. I do eat more, but it doesn't seem to me that I eat THAT much more. Kinda weird. Either I'll start losing weight at some point and will have to eat a LOT more, or not. I mean I would think so, but it hasn't happened yet. Strange.
ALSO: I am noticing new muscle definition - but only in my calves and shins! Makes perfect sense but I hadn't anticipated it. I was hoping for, you know, nice thighs and a muscular butt - but no, it's my shins. Hot shins. Does anyone know any cute gay female shin fetishists?
Today is Wednesday. I ran five miles on the treadmill (and I RAN the whole five miles, no walk breaks, that's a first), plan on three on Thursday, four on Friday (because alliteration's fun) and two on Saturday ... I would of course run six on Saturday but as the long run is Sunday, I don't think six before a long run at this point would be wise. Courting fatigue with that.
Sunday is twelve. No alliteration there at all, but I'm doing it anyway. From your cozy Sunday morning nest, wherever you are, toast me with a mimosa, and cheer me on.
Miles to Date: 77
...that is to say: Ten miles in one run - that is to say, I ran ten miles this week, and it was in one run, my Sunday long run with my group; it was the only run I took.
Oh, all kinds of things got in the way last week: I got my period, which makes me sweat and shake and puke and pretty much uses me up for at least several days. I had a heavier work week. I slept less. And I had various personal issues stressing me out, as well.
Given how exhausted and sick I was all week, I was surprised to even finish the run. Everything after mile 4 was hard, but I managed to keep pace until the end.
Ten miles is a funny milestone. If it's not already in your running repertoire, it sounds impossible. I have to say that these longer distances (which are increasing now for us by two miles each week) are really only conceivably achievable to me AFTER I do them. I just show up on Sunday on good faith that if everybody else can do it, I guess I can, too, and I don't think about it any more than that. And once we're running, then it's just about running, until we're done.
I can't stress enough the importance of having a trainer and, in essence, a running support group. It is of course largely about needing an educated, informed, trustworthy person to help me gauge the degree of challenge I need and to help remind me to do all the things I need to do to stay healthy and take proper care of myself as my weekly miles increase. But it's also just needing to be able to focus on the work itself, the psychological and emotional demand of it, without having to be solely in charge of negotiating the big logistical training picture. Yes, of course, people train on their own all the time. Still, when you're trying to take on something you've never done before - whether it is finishing your first marathon or improving your time - I think the emotional involvement can make it difficult to really know how much challenge is enough, and how much is too much. It's helpful to have the perspective and encouragement of someone who's NOT emotionally invested, who can stand back and say, Yes, ten miles will be challenging, but you're ready for it, and if you need help or support along the way, I can offer that.
MEANWHILE: I would like to report - I think, through all this, I've lost all of one pound. Yes, on long run days, I get very, very hungry. I do eat more, but it doesn't seem to me that I eat THAT much more. Kinda weird. Either I'll start losing weight at some point and will have to eat a LOT more, or not. I mean I would think so, but it hasn't happened yet. Strange.
ALSO: I am noticing new muscle definition - but only in my calves and shins! Makes perfect sense but I hadn't anticipated it. I was hoping for, you know, nice thighs and a muscular butt - but no, it's my shins. Hot shins. Does anyone know any cute gay female shin fetishists?
Today is Wednesday. I ran five miles on the treadmill (and I RAN the whole five miles, no walk breaks, that's a first), plan on three on Thursday, four on Friday (because alliteration's fun) and two on Saturday ... I would of course run six on Saturday but as the long run is Sunday, I don't think six before a long run at this point would be wise. Courting fatigue with that.
Sunday is twelve. No alliteration there at all, but I'm doing it anyway. From your cozy Sunday morning nest, wherever you are, toast me with a mimosa, and cheer me on.
3.26.2008
Weeks 5 & 6: Pacing
Miles Week 5: 15.5 (Sunday's long run: 7 miles)
Miles Week 6: 15 (Sunday's long run: 8 miles)
Miles to Date: 67
It is absolutely insane to think that I've logged nearly seventy training miles already. I guess spread out it's not that much, but just seeing it in one big number like that is sort of shocking.
I don't have much time to write, and I'm bad at writing things fast - but it will have to do, as I am two weeks behind in this and it's time just get something in before I feel I'm so far behind I can't catch up.
Pacing is everything, right?
Here's the schedule: We started the first Sunday with three miles. The next week it was four. Then five. So on up, until we hit eight - the week following the eight mile run, we do ten; following ten, we do twelve. Then we have a "recovery" week and bump back down to six. Then up to fourteen. Then back down to eight. Are you dizzy and confused yet? The strategy aims to gradually build endurance without totally destroying yourself in the process. It's a pretty standard approach to marathon training.
So the Sunday before Easter, we met for our seven mile run. I started out alright. Enjoyed myself for a bit, enjoyed the company of my companeros. Then somewhere between miles four and five, I started to wear out. Just...fatigued. I kept dropping the little water bottles that stick onto my water belt (totally goofy-looking accessory but it saves having to hold the bottle in your hand the whole time) - that meant stopping, picking them up, then sprinting to catch up with my group. I tried eating a Gu (another accessory - a little foil packet filled with, you guessed it, goo, which is flavored and even caffeinated and filled with calories and potassium and other things to fuel another 45 minutes or so of exercise. My friend Jeni tasted it and rightly announced that it's sort of like eating cake batter). I got really bad heartburn. Dropped a water bottle again. Etc.
Finally, at the beginning of mile seven, I just bit it. Fortunately for my ego, though not for her, another woman in my group was having serious knee pain, so I very generously offered to stay at the end and walk with her. By the last third of the last mile, Jose, our group leader, was walking with us, and I managed to jog/drag myself to the finish.
But I swear to God, it nearly killed me.
That week, I'd planned on training a lot, in hopes that it would help prepare me for the eight miles, which otherwise surely WOULD kill me. Alas, as fate would have it, I ended up having to take my car into the mechanic, and thereby missed several days of said training as I couldn't drive myself to the gym (or anywhere else where I would be able to train). I finally got in about four miles of sporadic, badly paced walking and running in Santa Cruz on Saturday, when I went to visit my friends Tonia and Xavier. (Xavier invited me to "take a little run" with him - he failed to mention that he's a former sprinter and consequently runs 7-8 minute miles... I ate a lot of dust...)
So. Gasping at the end of seven miles on Sunday. Then very little training, save for the DAY BEFORE the next long run (also not a good idea). I thought I would be toast for the eight mile run.
That morning, last Sunday, I even told the trainer before we started that I might have to stop, I might not be able to finish. He said that was okay. I was prepared.
But then ... I was fine. It was comfortable, the whole damn time. Didn't poop out. Figured out the water belt. Successfully switched from Gu to Energy Gummies (same concept, less messy, easier to eat in small bits, less indigestion). Even ran a couple of little hills in this route. Wrapped up the eight mile run in about ninety minutes with energy and breath to spare.
An experienced runner in my group commented that sometimes training less (giving yourself a recovery week, in essence) leads to having lots of energy and capacity in your next run. Maybe that's the magic force that was at work here. In any case, it was an amazing and happy surprise.
I suppose that's sort of the big-picture look at pacing: Understanding the balance between training and resting, doing enough to keep yourself growing but not so much that you cack. The minutia of pacing counts, too - same way, but smaller. On Saturday I couldn't help but push too fast, while Xavier comfortably zoomed out ahead and away from me... but my running spurts got shorter and shorter, my walking breaks got longer, and I became very tired and very lazy very quickly. The pace with my group the next day seemed absolutely like molasses in comparison - but lo and behold, I could maintain it for an hour and half with no problem.
Alright. Time's up. Ten miles this Sunday. I'll keep you posted.
Miles Week 6: 15 (Sunday's long run: 8 miles)
Miles to Date: 67
It is absolutely insane to think that I've logged nearly seventy training miles already. I guess spread out it's not that much, but just seeing it in one big number like that is sort of shocking.
I don't have much time to write, and I'm bad at writing things fast - but it will have to do, as I am two weeks behind in this and it's time just get something in before I feel I'm so far behind I can't catch up.
Pacing is everything, right?
Here's the schedule: We started the first Sunday with three miles. The next week it was four. Then five. So on up, until we hit eight - the week following the eight mile run, we do ten; following ten, we do twelve. Then we have a "recovery" week and bump back down to six. Then up to fourteen. Then back down to eight. Are you dizzy and confused yet? The strategy aims to gradually build endurance without totally destroying yourself in the process. It's a pretty standard approach to marathon training.
So the Sunday before Easter, we met for our seven mile run. I started out alright. Enjoyed myself for a bit, enjoyed the company of my companeros. Then somewhere between miles four and five, I started to wear out. Just...fatigued. I kept dropping the little water bottles that stick onto my water belt (totally goofy-looking accessory but it saves having to hold the bottle in your hand the whole time) - that meant stopping, picking them up, then sprinting to catch up with my group. I tried eating a Gu (another accessory - a little foil packet filled with, you guessed it, goo, which is flavored and even caffeinated and filled with calories and potassium and other things to fuel another 45 minutes or so of exercise. My friend Jeni tasted it and rightly announced that it's sort of like eating cake batter). I got really bad heartburn. Dropped a water bottle again. Etc.
Finally, at the beginning of mile seven, I just bit it. Fortunately for my ego, though not for her, another woman in my group was having serious knee pain, so I very generously offered to stay at the end and walk with her. By the last third of the last mile, Jose, our group leader, was walking with us, and I managed to jog/drag myself to the finish.
But I swear to God, it nearly killed me.
That week, I'd planned on training a lot, in hopes that it would help prepare me for the eight miles, which otherwise surely WOULD kill me. Alas, as fate would have it, I ended up having to take my car into the mechanic, and thereby missed several days of said training as I couldn't drive myself to the gym (or anywhere else where I would be able to train). I finally got in about four miles of sporadic, badly paced walking and running in Santa Cruz on Saturday, when I went to visit my friends Tonia and Xavier. (Xavier invited me to "take a little run" with him - he failed to mention that he's a former sprinter and consequently runs 7-8 minute miles... I ate a lot of dust...)
So. Gasping at the end of seven miles on Sunday. Then very little training, save for the DAY BEFORE the next long run (also not a good idea). I thought I would be toast for the eight mile run.
That morning, last Sunday, I even told the trainer before we started that I might have to stop, I might not be able to finish. He said that was okay. I was prepared.
But then ... I was fine. It was comfortable, the whole damn time. Didn't poop out. Figured out the water belt. Successfully switched from Gu to Energy Gummies (same concept, less messy, easier to eat in small bits, less indigestion). Even ran a couple of little hills in this route. Wrapped up the eight mile run in about ninety minutes with energy and breath to spare.
An experienced runner in my group commented that sometimes training less (giving yourself a recovery week, in essence) leads to having lots of energy and capacity in your next run. Maybe that's the magic force that was at work here. In any case, it was an amazing and happy surprise.
I suppose that's sort of the big-picture look at pacing: Understanding the balance between training and resting, doing enough to keep yourself growing but not so much that you cack. The minutia of pacing counts, too - same way, but smaller. On Saturday I couldn't help but push too fast, while Xavier comfortably zoomed out ahead and away from me... but my running spurts got shorter and shorter, my walking breaks got longer, and I became very tired and very lazy very quickly. The pace with my group the next day seemed absolutely like molasses in comparison - but lo and behold, I could maintain it for an hour and half with no problem.
Alright. Time's up. Ten miles this Sunday. I'll keep you posted.
3.12.2008
Week 4: PAIN.
Miles This Week: 16 (Sunday's long run: 6 miles)
Miles To Date: 36.5
I write you from my table at Cato's, my favorite digs on Piedmont Avenue in Oakland. I'm eating a burger - by design: carbs, protein ... that seems like good exercise fuel, right? I can't seem to figure out what, how, or when I need to eat to be able to run all the time, and to recover adequately.
I have to believe I'll be turning a corner here soon. That is to say: I'm keeping up with my training miles, but it's kicking my ass. I'm sore. And I'm very tired.
It's not just about showing up at the Berkeley Marina at 8 am on Sundays and running farther than I ever imagined I could - or about showing up to run 2-3 times a week for an hour on my own - it's also about drinking water constantly (I forget to do this), eating a lot (sometimes I forget this, too), eating the foods that will give me the most energy and best muscle recovery (I'm still figuring this out) and going to bed at about 8:30-9pm every night (I fluctuate in my success on this front).
TIRED... not like, sleepy - rather, like, aching sore throbbing legs and feet. And I guess 'cause that's not punishment enough, I accepted my (wonderful, awesome, brilliant) friend Daniela's invitation to attend her trapeze class on Monday.
Friends. When you die and meet Saint Peter, and he tells you you've been bad, and he puts you on the elevator and pushes the arrow pointing down - when the door opens, do you know where you'll be?
Trapeze class.
I adore Daniela. She is one of the most naturally beautiful, funny, smart and in every other way lovely women I know - and she is an exceptionally gorgeous dancer and athlete to boot. If there was ever a teacher who MIGHT have the capacity to make trapeze class anything beyond a purely gratuitous exercise in brutality, it's Daniela.
But - frankly? Even with lovely Daniela there being so sweet and gentle and saying such nice things to me ... good Lord, it hurt.
Of course even there in the moment it doesn't necessarily hurt so much. It hurts your hands a bit (there can be blisters and ripped blisters and bleeding and all that). It hurts your ankles and feet (ankle hangs involve wrapping your legs around the ropes, flexing your feet hard so you don't fall, and hanging upside down ... this also results in skin rips and blood and bruises). It hurts other parts too.
But most of my pain has been muscle pain, after the fact. Oh my God, my pecs. Arrrrrr, my shoulders. I don't even know the name of the muscles underneath my armpits, but those hurt the most; I can barely raise my arms.
Daniela thought the running would be good for my upper-body muscle recovery, as it increases blood flow, allowing the whole body to heal faster ... she's right, of course, but I hadn't thought until I started bouncing around on the treadmill this morning of what bouncing around would feel like on my sore, sore, sore pecs.
I did my six miles. It was okay. I didn't have to hold my boobs the whole time, only the first ten minutes (I'm sure that looked really cool).
The other thing about trapeze class is that it is scheduled the day after the long group run... I had a hard time doing a plain old knee hang, couldn't understand why, until a little while later when it occurred to me that my legs are completely fatigued. I don't know how much upside-down-ness I'll be able to manage at Monday morning trapeze class.
Is once-a-week trapeze class too much to pile on top of marathon training? What is this all about, anyway?
I was telling my friend on the phone yesterday that I'm in this place right now where I am understanding, in a very real and immediate way, that I am master of my own ship, and that furthermore, I am lucky to be gifted with a brain and heart I really, honestly trust to master a ship. For the first time in my life I am getting that it's okay for me to choose a goal and go for it - because if I stay focused, there's absolutely no reason I can't meet it. That probably seems very A-B-C, but what can I say, I'm finally figuring it out.
I think the marathon goal is the tangible touchstone of that lesson I am in right now. Training for a marathon isn't easy, but it's not confusing, either. It's very straightforward, simple, and barring injury, achievable. Just do the prescribed task, and the goal is achieved. It requires a degree of initiative, but once I've given myself the assignment, it's just about doing whatever is required to get the job done.
Miles To Date: 36.5
I write you from my table at Cato's, my favorite digs on Piedmont Avenue in Oakland. I'm eating a burger - by design: carbs, protein ... that seems like good exercise fuel, right? I can't seem to figure out what, how, or when I need to eat to be able to run all the time, and to recover adequately.
I have to believe I'll be turning a corner here soon. That is to say: I'm keeping up with my training miles, but it's kicking my ass. I'm sore. And I'm very tired.
It's not just about showing up at the Berkeley Marina at 8 am on Sundays and running farther than I ever imagined I could - or about showing up to run 2-3 times a week for an hour on my own - it's also about drinking water constantly (I forget to do this), eating a lot (sometimes I forget this, too), eating the foods that will give me the most energy and best muscle recovery (I'm still figuring this out) and going to bed at about 8:30-9pm every night (I fluctuate in my success on this front).
TIRED... not like, sleepy - rather, like, aching sore throbbing legs and feet. And I guess 'cause that's not punishment enough, I accepted my (wonderful, awesome, brilliant) friend Daniela's invitation to attend her trapeze class on Monday.
Friends. When you die and meet Saint Peter, and he tells you you've been bad, and he puts you on the elevator and pushes the arrow pointing down - when the door opens, do you know where you'll be?
Trapeze class.
I adore Daniela. She is one of the most naturally beautiful, funny, smart and in every other way lovely women I know - and she is an exceptionally gorgeous dancer and athlete to boot. If there was ever a teacher who MIGHT have the capacity to make trapeze class anything beyond a purely gratuitous exercise in brutality, it's Daniela.
But - frankly? Even with lovely Daniela there being so sweet and gentle and saying such nice things to me ... good Lord, it hurt.
Of course even there in the moment it doesn't necessarily hurt so much. It hurts your hands a bit (there can be blisters and ripped blisters and bleeding and all that). It hurts your ankles and feet (ankle hangs involve wrapping your legs around the ropes, flexing your feet hard so you don't fall, and hanging upside down ... this also results in skin rips and blood and bruises). It hurts other parts too.
But most of my pain has been muscle pain, after the fact. Oh my God, my pecs. Arrrrrr, my shoulders. I don't even know the name of the muscles underneath my armpits, but those hurt the most; I can barely raise my arms.
Daniela thought the running would be good for my upper-body muscle recovery, as it increases blood flow, allowing the whole body to heal faster ... she's right, of course, but I hadn't thought until I started bouncing around on the treadmill this morning of what bouncing around would feel like on my sore, sore, sore pecs.
I did my six miles. It was okay. I didn't have to hold my boobs the whole time, only the first ten minutes (I'm sure that looked really cool).
The other thing about trapeze class is that it is scheduled the day after the long group run... I had a hard time doing a plain old knee hang, couldn't understand why, until a little while later when it occurred to me that my legs are completely fatigued. I don't know how much upside-down-ness I'll be able to manage at Monday morning trapeze class.
Is once-a-week trapeze class too much to pile on top of marathon training? What is this all about, anyway?
I was telling my friend on the phone yesterday that I'm in this place right now where I am understanding, in a very real and immediate way, that I am master of my own ship, and that furthermore, I am lucky to be gifted with a brain and heart I really, honestly trust to master a ship. For the first time in my life I am getting that it's okay for me to choose a goal and go for it - because if I stay focused, there's absolutely no reason I can't meet it. That probably seems very A-B-C, but what can I say, I'm finally figuring it out.
I think the marathon goal is the tangible touchstone of that lesson I am in right now. Training for a marathon isn't easy, but it's not confusing, either. It's very straightforward, simple, and barring injury, achievable. Just do the prescribed task, and the goal is achieved. It requires a degree of initiative, but once I've given myself the assignment, it's just about doing whatever is required to get the job done.
3.04.2008
WEEK 3: Running In My Head
Miles This Week: 7.5 (Sunday's long run: 5 miles)
Miles To Date: 20.5
A measly collection of miles this week - illness, knee troubles and work conflicts conspired to keep me out of the gym and away from the five-mile Sunday group run.
I made it up this morning: five miles. Took me an hour, but felt good.
The running-five-minutes, walking-one-minute thing, I'm finding, is awesome - not just because walk breaks are energy breaks, but because it gives me something manageable to focus on: Run five minutes. Walk one minute. Run five minutes. Walk one minute. SOOOO much easier to deal with, psychologically, than: Run for an hour. I'm sure, physically, I could do that, but on a treadmill without an iPod... unbearably boring.
Gyms always have magazines in the cardio rooms. I always want to read one - but I can't imagine how anybody is capable of reading with a racing heart rate and fatiguing muscles. Still I have to always stop and pick a couple up on my way to the treadmill. They sort of keep me company, somehow, and give my mind something to hang onto - just the IDEA of a magazine is enough - even if I never open them up.
Five miles. It's a nice square number. It's a UNIT. 26 miles is sort of hard to comprehend – but five of what I did today, plus a little change, is something I can sort of get my head around.
A couple of months ago I joined a friend at her zendo for zazen practice (that would be: zen meditation hall, for meditation practice). I don't meditate on a regular basis but I've done it enough to be familiar with the challenges of sitting still - watching my attention travel from the knuckle that wants to crack, to the itch on my foot, to the tension in my shoulder, and so forth.
Running is just like that, insofar as it creates a self-enclosed time and place in which one can actually feel one's body, and its changing comforts and discomforts, in a way that is simply about observation. Little tweaks and twangs and tensions make themselves known and then go away: right knee, left hip, left ankle, gut, lower back... I used to panic at every little pain, but now I see that most of it is just about my body waking up and adjusting to the new work I'm asking of it. Generally none of the little aches and pains last more than a couple of minutes. There are moments in a run when my energy is really ramped, and other moments when I feel sluggish. I just keep going forward, and it all flows in and out of itself: the lovely rhythm carries me.
Of course, not every pain is little. I had a tightness in my left hip flexor today (not the hip that was injured, interestingly enough) that I've had on other recent runs, and I took thirty seconds of one of my walk breaks to stop and stretch it out. I think if I hadn't done that simple thing, I could have hurt myself before finishing the distance. Really, it's a practice of LISTENING – listening to your body, and with enough listening I believe you can learn to tell the difference between the pain of minor adjustments and the serious pain of imminent injury.
Miles To Date: 20.5
A measly collection of miles this week - illness, knee troubles and work conflicts conspired to keep me out of the gym and away from the five-mile Sunday group run.
I made it up this morning: five miles. Took me an hour, but felt good.
The running-five-minutes, walking-one-minute thing, I'm finding, is awesome - not just because walk breaks are energy breaks, but because it gives me something manageable to focus on: Run five minutes. Walk one minute. Run five minutes. Walk one minute. SOOOO much easier to deal with, psychologically, than: Run for an hour. I'm sure, physically, I could do that, but on a treadmill without an iPod... unbearably boring.
Gyms always have magazines in the cardio rooms. I always want to read one - but I can't imagine how anybody is capable of reading with a racing heart rate and fatiguing muscles. Still I have to always stop and pick a couple up on my way to the treadmill. They sort of keep me company, somehow, and give my mind something to hang onto - just the IDEA of a magazine is enough - even if I never open them up.
Five miles. It's a nice square number. It's a UNIT. 26 miles is sort of hard to comprehend – but five of what I did today, plus a little change, is something I can sort of get my head around.
A couple of months ago I joined a friend at her zendo for zazen practice (that would be: zen meditation hall, for meditation practice). I don't meditate on a regular basis but I've done it enough to be familiar with the challenges of sitting still - watching my attention travel from the knuckle that wants to crack, to the itch on my foot, to the tension in my shoulder, and so forth.
Running is just like that, insofar as it creates a self-enclosed time and place in which one can actually feel one's body, and its changing comforts and discomforts, in a way that is simply about observation. Little tweaks and twangs and tensions make themselves known and then go away: right knee, left hip, left ankle, gut, lower back... I used to panic at every little pain, but now I see that most of it is just about my body waking up and adjusting to the new work I'm asking of it. Generally none of the little aches and pains last more than a couple of minutes. There are moments in a run when my energy is really ramped, and other moments when I feel sluggish. I just keep going forward, and it all flows in and out of itself: the lovely rhythm carries me.
Of course, not every pain is little. I had a tightness in my left hip flexor today (not the hip that was injured, interestingly enough) that I've had on other recent runs, and I took thirty seconds of one of my walk breaks to stop and stretch it out. I think if I hadn't done that simple thing, I could have hurt myself before finishing the distance. Really, it's a practice of LISTENING – listening to your body, and with enough listening I believe you can learn to tell the difference between the pain of minor adjustments and the serious pain of imminent injury.
2.24.2008
WEEK 2: How it Goes
Miles This Week: 9 (Sunday's long run: 4 miles)
Miles To Date: 13
The AIDS Marathon folks train participants using an approach developed by Jeff Galloway, a lifetime marathoner who is in part responsible for the popularization of running in the last 30 years. Galloway recommends interspersing short "walk breaks" into one's training runs. The ratio between running and walking time is determined by by individual capacity: Less experienced runners take longer and more frequent walk breaks, and stronger runners take shorter breaks less frequently - but everyone takes them, regardless of ability! Walk breaks extend endurance by giving the runner's muscles, as well as spirit, a chance to rest and catch up, and they help the beginning runner gradually add mileage and adjust to longer runs.
Running with the SF AIDS Foundation means receiving training from a running professional and enjoying the benefits of running with an organized group of people, in exchange for helping raise money for the organization and, in that, committing to finishing the run. All registered runners meet once weekly at a designated location for a long group run, in addition to doing at least two 30-45 minute independent runs during the week. The long runs start at three miles; on this first run, all participants are timed in order to determine everyone's individual pace. Following this, "pace groups" are formed, and for every subsequent run the groups run together at their pace using the according Galloway run-walk ratio. For example, I finished my three-mile run last weekend in 30 minutes, which put me into the 10-minute mile group; one minute is added to this to afford a slower training pace, and then I run using a 5-to-1 run/walk ration (five minutes of running, one minute of walking, and so on).
Last weekend 108 people showed up at 8 am at the East Bay run site at the Berkeley Marina. All ages. All shapes. All sizes. There were some who were regular runners, some who had a marathon or two under their belts, and many who had never run a day in their lives. Lots of people were there to support HIV-positive partners, children, siblings, parents or other family members, some were there to support friends, and some were just there to help the cause. There was a lot of trepidation on people's faces, but also a lot of hope, and as we puffed our way through our three miles we all cheered each other on.
I've loved running for years - but I'd never had as much fun doing it as I did with all my compadres last Sunday.
So this morning was Run #2. Four miles this time. Each Sunday run will increase by one mile until we hit eight miles - after that it jumps to ten, then twelve, fourteen, and I think then we backtrack a bit for recovery, so the mileage will do a "three steps forward, two steps back" kind of pattern while still slowly moving our capacity closer to the 26 mile mark.
I would have been proud just to do the four miles - but it happened to be raining this morning, and at the Marina the winds off the water are ferocious. By 8 am, the rain had, thankfully, mostly stopped - but the wind had teeth. It was ass-kicking. Everyone shivered through our big pre-run pow-wow, and then we got into our groups, and went. It's true that race day can be graced, or not, with any kind of weather, and getting used to training in anything is therefore handy... but of course had it not been for the commitment we'd made the week before most of us would have stayed in bed.
It's hard for me (yes, even me) to be social and chatty at 8 am - more so when I am trying to focus on moving myself forward, more so when there's a frigid wind threatening to blow me sideways into traffic. Still, I really, really like the people in my group (six of us today, probably more next week), and I suspect I will walk away from this experience with a bunch of new friends.
My body this week has been a little slammed by the exercise. Two months ago I started taking a fat handful of supplements every day (so many, in fact, they probably deserve their own blog), and I am working on staying hydrated and getting enough sleep. It all helps. My body still aches everywhere but, as they say, it's a "good hurt." Umm. Sort of.
My knees thus far are fine! Knock wood, baby!
Miles To Date: 13
The AIDS Marathon folks train participants using an approach developed by Jeff Galloway, a lifetime marathoner who is in part responsible for the popularization of running in the last 30 years. Galloway recommends interspersing short "walk breaks" into one's training runs. The ratio between running and walking time is determined by by individual capacity: Less experienced runners take longer and more frequent walk breaks, and stronger runners take shorter breaks less frequently - but everyone takes them, regardless of ability! Walk breaks extend endurance by giving the runner's muscles, as well as spirit, a chance to rest and catch up, and they help the beginning runner gradually add mileage and adjust to longer runs.
Running with the SF AIDS Foundation means receiving training from a running professional and enjoying the benefits of running with an organized group of people, in exchange for helping raise money for the organization and, in that, committing to finishing the run. All registered runners meet once weekly at a designated location for a long group run, in addition to doing at least two 30-45 minute independent runs during the week. The long runs start at three miles; on this first run, all participants are timed in order to determine everyone's individual pace. Following this, "pace groups" are formed, and for every subsequent run the groups run together at their pace using the according Galloway run-walk ratio. For example, I finished my three-mile run last weekend in 30 minutes, which put me into the 10-minute mile group; one minute is added to this to afford a slower training pace, and then I run using a 5-to-1 run/walk ration (five minutes of running, one minute of walking, and so on).
Last weekend 108 people showed up at 8 am at the East Bay run site at the Berkeley Marina. All ages. All shapes. All sizes. There were some who were regular runners, some who had a marathon or two under their belts, and many who had never run a day in their lives. Lots of people were there to support HIV-positive partners, children, siblings, parents or other family members, some were there to support friends, and some were just there to help the cause. There was a lot of trepidation on people's faces, but also a lot of hope, and as we puffed our way through our three miles we all cheered each other on.
I've loved running for years - but I'd never had as much fun doing it as I did with all my compadres last Sunday.
So this morning was Run #2. Four miles this time. Each Sunday run will increase by one mile until we hit eight miles - after that it jumps to ten, then twelve, fourteen, and I think then we backtrack a bit for recovery, so the mileage will do a "three steps forward, two steps back" kind of pattern while still slowly moving our capacity closer to the 26 mile mark.
I would have been proud just to do the four miles - but it happened to be raining this morning, and at the Marina the winds off the water are ferocious. By 8 am, the rain had, thankfully, mostly stopped - but the wind had teeth. It was ass-kicking. Everyone shivered through our big pre-run pow-wow, and then we got into our groups, and went. It's true that race day can be graced, or not, with any kind of weather, and getting used to training in anything is therefore handy... but of course had it not been for the commitment we'd made the week before most of us would have stayed in bed.
It's hard for me (yes, even me) to be social and chatty at 8 am - more so when I am trying to focus on moving myself forward, more so when there's a frigid wind threatening to blow me sideways into traffic. Still, I really, really like the people in my group (six of us today, probably more next week), and I suspect I will walk away from this experience with a bunch of new friends.
My body this week has been a little slammed by the exercise. Two months ago I started taking a fat handful of supplements every day (so many, in fact, they probably deserve their own blog), and I am working on staying hydrated and getting enough sleep. It all helps. My body still aches everywhere but, as they say, it's a "good hurt." Umm. Sort of.
My knees thus far are fine! Knock wood, baby!
2.20.2008
WEEK 1: Beginning
Miles this week: 0
Miles to date: 0
After years of thinking about it, I am finally training for the AIDS Marathon.
Years ago when I lived in Minneapolis, I sometimes would take my dog KC to the Uptown district near Lake Calhoun for our winter evening walks. Uptown was well-lit, well-populated and cheery, full of shops and restaurants and people, but still not too crowded for a pleasant evening stroll.
One night, as we were walking, I was struck with a sudden, inexplicable, POWERFUL urge to RUN.
It was 8:30 at night.
It was about 15 degrees out.
I was in snow boots and a parka.
And the sidewalk was piled with snow and ice.
I had never done any kind of running - in fact I'd never really exercised, in any way, at all. Well - dance lessons, yes. But nothing sporty. I was way too bookish and small growing up to ever dare attempt anything athletic.
It was the strangest, most unexpected physical sensation ... a bit like having had too much caffeine: tingly, uncomfortable energy in my arms and legs. Too much energy. I wanted to shake it out of me.
So. I ran. KC ran with me. I ran until I was tired, and then I walked. And then when I was done being tired, I ran some more. I kept doing this for about 30 minutes, until finally the antsy feeling in my body was gone.
I slept really well that night.
The next night we went out, same place, and because it had been fun, I did it again. Before long, I found myself timidly browsing the sports section of the bookstore, looking for books on running. I bought Jeff Galloway's "Galloway's Book on Running" (which, lo and behold, advocates a training program for the beginner alternating running and walking - and it is Galloway's method which is used by the AIDS Marathon trainers).
I bought a pair of running shoes, and I started taking myself to the lake after work. I loved being outside. I loved seeing all the people and all the dogs and all the LIFE around me, and I loved being part of it. I loved feeling my body working and getting stronger.
I learned that if I just did as much as I could, "as much as I could" very quickly and easily became more than it had been. I learned that exercise is a fabulous antidepressant. And I changed, in just a couple of months, from being bookish and inert to being, yes - a runner.
The most astounding part of all this to me, then and now, is that it really didn't require much effort. I didn't begin with lofty goals and expensive gear. I just ran in my snow boots down the sidewalk until I couldn't any more, and doing that felt good, and so I did it again, and it kept feeling good, and then it just seemed like it would feel better if I had appropriate shoes and a little bit of education. The whole endeavor was fueled nearly entirely by physical pleasure.
I realized that this was a great model for growth for me. Pleasure and fun are the best motivators; finding something fun, interesting or pleasurable in making changes in one's self and life that might be otherwise intimidating, affords one a much better shot at succeeding than focusing on the seeming impossibility of the goal and grousing around feeling scared, inadequate, and ashamed. Corny though it may sound, by maintaining a steady of goal of "just as much as I can, and then maybe a tiny bit more," I quickly found myself doing something, and becoming someone, I hadn't imagined possible.
I eventually stopped running because of a knee injury (by which I learned another crucial lesson: it's important to respect pain before it gets out of control). Even in recent years, I haven't been able to run regularly without my knee eventually tweaking out.
But I'm not worrying. I'm mindful of my knee - taking joint supplements and being ready to visit my nearest sports medicine doc should anything start to hurt. I feel good. It's so exciting to rediscover these lessons. It's such a damn treat to sleep well, wake up early, really use my body and then baste in endorphins in the sauna.
And particularly now, as I commit to running to raise money for the AIDS Foundation - I am unspeakably grateful for my health, for my body, for my ability to use it, and to enjoy it.
Miles to date: 0
After years of thinking about it, I am finally training for the AIDS Marathon.
Years ago when I lived in Minneapolis, I sometimes would take my dog KC to the Uptown district near Lake Calhoun for our winter evening walks. Uptown was well-lit, well-populated and cheery, full of shops and restaurants and people, but still not too crowded for a pleasant evening stroll.
One night, as we were walking, I was struck with a sudden, inexplicable, POWERFUL urge to RUN.
It was 8:30 at night.
It was about 15 degrees out.
I was in snow boots and a parka.
And the sidewalk was piled with snow and ice.
I had never done any kind of running - in fact I'd never really exercised, in any way, at all. Well - dance lessons, yes. But nothing sporty. I was way too bookish and small growing up to ever dare attempt anything athletic.
It was the strangest, most unexpected physical sensation ... a bit like having had too much caffeine: tingly, uncomfortable energy in my arms and legs. Too much energy. I wanted to shake it out of me.
So. I ran. KC ran with me. I ran until I was tired, and then I walked. And then when I was done being tired, I ran some more. I kept doing this for about 30 minutes, until finally the antsy feeling in my body was gone.
I slept really well that night.
The next night we went out, same place, and because it had been fun, I did it again. Before long, I found myself timidly browsing the sports section of the bookstore, looking for books on running. I bought Jeff Galloway's "Galloway's Book on Running" (which, lo and behold, advocates a training program for the beginner alternating running and walking - and it is Galloway's method which is used by the AIDS Marathon trainers).
I bought a pair of running shoes, and I started taking myself to the lake after work. I loved being outside. I loved seeing all the people and all the dogs and all the LIFE around me, and I loved being part of it. I loved feeling my body working and getting stronger.
I learned that if I just did as much as I could, "as much as I could" very quickly and easily became more than it had been. I learned that exercise is a fabulous antidepressant. And I changed, in just a couple of months, from being bookish and inert to being, yes - a runner.
The most astounding part of all this to me, then and now, is that it really didn't require much effort. I didn't begin with lofty goals and expensive gear. I just ran in my snow boots down the sidewalk until I couldn't any more, and doing that felt good, and so I did it again, and it kept feeling good, and then it just seemed like it would feel better if I had appropriate shoes and a little bit of education. The whole endeavor was fueled nearly entirely by physical pleasure.
I realized that this was a great model for growth for me. Pleasure and fun are the best motivators; finding something fun, interesting or pleasurable in making changes in one's self and life that might be otherwise intimidating, affords one a much better shot at succeeding than focusing on the seeming impossibility of the goal and grousing around feeling scared, inadequate, and ashamed. Corny though it may sound, by maintaining a steady of goal of "just as much as I can, and then maybe a tiny bit more," I quickly found myself doing something, and becoming someone, I hadn't imagined possible.
I eventually stopped running because of a knee injury (by which I learned another crucial lesson: it's important to respect pain before it gets out of control). Even in recent years, I haven't been able to run regularly without my knee eventually tweaking out.
But I'm not worrying. I'm mindful of my knee - taking joint supplements and being ready to visit my nearest sports medicine doc should anything start to hurt. I feel good. It's so exciting to rediscover these lessons. It's such a damn treat to sleep well, wake up early, really use my body and then baste in endorphins in the sauna.
And particularly now, as I commit to running to raise money for the AIDS Foundation - I am unspeakably grateful for my health, for my body, for my ability to use it, and to enjoy it.
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