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!
2.24.2008
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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