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.
3.26.2008
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.
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