Very Fast Persons

Dear Diary,

I used to refer to the lightweight (i.e., anyone lighter than me) and fast people as "tiny bird people," a somewhat derogatory term until three things happened: 1) some of them became my friends, 2) some of my friends became them, and 3) Sweet Baboo, who is not tiny, became very fast.

Thus, I now refer to them in my mind as Very Fast Persons. You may know some. They chatter about how they're going to try to get under 3:30 FOR THEIR FREAKING MARATHON TIME but then again, "maybe I'll just relax and turn in a relaxed 3:45 time instead."

I wish my skin was this smooth when I'm standing up.

Occasionally , we'll be talking about someone else, but if it's the day before a marathon and we're all competing, er, participating in the marathon, well, eventually the conversation drifts towards working on maintaining an 8 minute pace for 26 miles and not going out too fast, and I start counting the holes in the ceiling tiles, or cracks in the sidewalk. Or whatever.

And so it was at the Lincoln National Guard marathon in Nebraska. We flew in with friends Bones and Miki, and met up with Chief. Chief, Baboo, and Miki are all in the National Guard and they, along with Bones, are all Very Fast Persons. In contrast I try to remind myself that I am a Very Brave Person, or at least, at times, a Somewhat Interesting Person, given that my all time Marathon PR, two years and twenty pounds ago, is around a 4:45 and yet I keep showing up for these things. I think I garner a fair amount of respect, too, even from Very Fast Persons because, after all, in about 3 to 3-1/2 hours they are done and off their feet and resting, and I'm still at least 2 hours out, on my feet, blazing past the walkers with my 12- or 13- mIle pace.

Now, I am in no way saying that everyone doesn't have their concerns. it's just that the concerns are different in the back of the pack. For me it's chaffing and finding a decent bra, and whether or not my new running skirt makes my thighs look heavy. These are both things that tend to fall off my radar when I am in the lower end of my weight. The comparisons I tend to make of others in my corral are different, too. When I'm feeling svelt, I might mentally compare my muscle tone to another Female and wonder what age group she's in. When I'm zeftig, I console myself with things like, "well, my breasts are bigger than hers, so there." Then I feel better.

Consistently, though, since I am merely a Very Brave Person and, at times, a Somewhat Interesting Person I consume my time with having something cute to run in and having a good mix on my shuffle, and wearing lots of Sportslick

And so it is with spirit in mind that I make no attempt to tell you, dear diary, what I might have done to move faster, so much as what I might have done to move cuter and having fun. I tried three new purchases for this one, first, I wore my new Brooks running skort, which has "Marathon Maniacs Diva" embroidered on it.

--> FYI, ipad has just informed me that there is no such word as "skort." Helpfully, it suggests "snort" as one option.

Second, I wore my new Aqua Flood shuffle (purple) and skull candy earbuds (pink and black) and third, I wore a belt that holds gels (black, with pink trim).

I haven't done a big City marathon in a while and they are both interesting and challenging. This is one of the marathons that has a major corporate sponsor (The Army National Guard) and thus, so far, has managed to avoid being taken over by the Rock and Roll series. The day of the marathon was forecast to be in temps mostly between the forties and mid sixties, at least during my run, and mostly cloudy. The course has very gentle rollers, lots of local support--including locals handing out odd things such as donut holes. This is a sports lovin' town, and those are the best towns to run a city marathon in, especially when it's not football season, because the folks are looking for someone to root for, so, it might as well be you. Since the bib numbers are personalized, they'll shout out your name, too.

The good: mostly flat, some gentle rollers here and there, good weather for heavy runners, a nice finish in Husker Stadium at the 50-yard line. There are lots of porta-potties but you will wait in line. The marathon is well-organized, with friendly guardsmen at aid stations that are about every mile, I think. There are pace groups all the way up to 5:30 finishers, something you don't normally see.

The bad: lots of cement. Not blacktop, cement. You'll get a bit beat-up on the course. Also, the first thirteen miles are pretty crowded, given that the half marathoners start at the same time. Also, the massage people left right as I finished. No massage for you!

My finishing song, or songs, are that one song or song sequence that I find particularly motivating, and so will back up my shuffle and play them over and over, especially in the last 5k. This time it was "Rock Me Tonight by Billy Squire" and "Little Bird" by Annie Lennox.

I used a mostly 1:1 Galloway run-walk, and finished just under 5:30.

And I'm tired. And I smell. So this is the end of my report.

....

 

Posted with Blogsy

If it were easy, it would be your mother.

Dear Diary,

That was on the best-selling shirt at the expo. They sold out. This was the marathon I did Sunday in Texas.

You know, I just love Texas.

I don't want to live there, because spring is about three weeks long in between windy, dry, horrid winter and hot, humid, horrid summer, but for visiting, it's just fine.

I was born in Dallas at Baylor Medical Center. I moved around some with my parents for a few years, but when I started high school, we stayed put. My first two children were born in Dallas. My first husband is buried there. The second one still lives there, just like the old George Straight song. I left Texas in 1991, heartbroken, but returned nine years later with Sweet Baboo when he was doing his psychology internship at the Dallas VA. Sweet Baboo and I were married in a little church near his mother's house just outside of San Antonio. Sweet Baboo is also generally from Texas and played Texas high school football in Wichita Falls.

When I am in Texas, a twang starts to creep back into my speech and I find myself eyeballing whattachicken sandwiches.

Other reasons why ah luuuv Texas:

First off, everyone is so friendly. They just are. As long as you don't say something bad about George Bush or Jesus the entire state is your new best friend. The passive-aggressiveness is even friendly. Why, she's just as lost as a goose, bless her heart.

Second, in April, there are bluebonnets.

Third, everyone there is crazy about soldiers and gives military members steep discounts. The state is just full of Fort this and Fort that. They're all over. I'm married to one so I get all the benefits of being in the military with none of the aggravation.

Fourth, every athletic event that I've been in, from Lubbock to Houston, from ultra-runs to triathlons, starts with a prayer and ends with a beer. You get brisket or chili at the end and usually some ice cold beer. I don't personally drink the stuff but it just seems like a very nice way to end a day of endurance, dontcha think?

Sweet Baboo and I ran the inaugural Army marathon there last weekend.

We flew into Dallas Love Field the day before, rented a car, drove down to Killeen--which is south of Waco and near Fort Hood. At the expo, Sweet Baboo bought me some new compression leg sleeves and some Newtons, which I got with my/our nice, "I married GI Joe" discount.

I was hoping for a really nice experience after getting caught in wind storms at the El Paso marathon in February and the Corpus Christi Navy marathon in March.

And, holy crap, I got it.

It's a point-to-point, 26.2 miles of gentle rollers, all on blacktop, on a protected course, with a net downhill from Killeen to Temple, Texas. It was beautiful, mostly overcast. The sun out a bit during the last hour or so, and there was some wind in the last ten miles, but nothing to get in a twist about. I finished just under 5:30. I really pushed myself. I was motivated by the promise of a shower before our three hour drive back to Dallas.

During the race there was a woman ahead if me I was determined to finish, my very own White Whale. She was relentless. She never stopped running her slow, steady pace. I gave up trying to lass her until the end, when I passed her at mike 25 ish.

I got a nudge to my self esteem by all the young bucks that took off like rockets at the beginning but that I passed near the end.

There were lots of soldiers. The women I recognized from their tight, neat hair buns and the men from their high and tight haircuts. But like many youngsters, they didn't pace themselves well. At one point the couple I was running near came upon a fellow soldier standing near the side of the road, rubbing his calf. They asked him why he'd stopped running and teased him. He looked at them woefully. "This is some bullshit, right here."

When I finished I crossed the finish line and flooped down into the shade. About 20 minutes later another young soldier stumbled over and flooped down nearby, and started complaining on the phone to somebody. First he complained about the hills.

"I should have trained for the hills," he said.

Elevation Profile -->

Then he complained about "all these old ladies out there, and they were kicking my ass!"

I am pretty happy with my pace. It wasn't blazing, but it was steady. Once I get on too of that whole, "speed" thing, I might be a fair marathoner. If you use the Galloway method I will tell you that i used 4:1 run:walk in the first half, the 3:2 for a while, and then the last five miles, 1:1.

Here's my splits:

What I didn't like, and this is my only complaint: Baboo said that the first shuttle started nearly an hour after he finished, to take him back to the start. He quickly showered and then headed back, which is when he found out that he could park no closer than three miles away from the finish.

As a result, he didn't get to see me finish, and I sat around for an hour, wondering what the hell was going on, and then after beating myself up to my blazing sub six-hour finish, I got a three mile hike to the car.

This is some bullshit, right here.

Boo.

Otherwise, well done. I'd recommend this marathon. Aid stations were well stocked, friendly volunteers, plenty of portajohns, and I believe the cut off was seven hours, possibly longer.

Next up: the Lincoln Marathon in Lincoln, Nebraska.

 

Posted with Blogsy

A half-assed race report.

Dear Diary,

after reading some of these articles, I have to admit I'm intrigued.

• http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2129159/
• http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2716748/
• http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21558571
• http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/sites/entrez?cmd=Link&db=pubmed&dbFrom=PubMed&from_uid=22835211&holding=f1000%2Cf1000m%2Cisrctn

I'm at the perfect place to experiment, too. I had a great year last year, and then lost a lot of fitness due to the sloth.grad school matrix. I'm at my running baseline, and about to start a new training plan for the Bandera 100k. During this time, in addition to losing strength and speed, I've gained 13 pounds.


So, I have a bit of a background in chemistry, and I've read the research, and I have to say, it's intriguing.

Much of the time when I binge, unlike others I've known, I don't binge on candy or cookies. I binge on cheese and meat. So, I'm trying out the New Atkins diet. Yes, they got some of my money. I bought the book, and am currently in induction phase. So far, I'm on day 3, and I don't feel unusually tired or have horrible breath.

I have to say it's odd that in a decade, the pendulum of my dietary habits swung from vegan to keterogenic.

Here's a typical work day:

Breakfast: an omelet, with 1-2 eggs, cheese, turkey bacon, some roasted red peppers and herbs, and chai made with half-and-half.

Snack is a low carb/low sugar light and fit yogurt and crystal light.

Lunch is broccoli, mashed cauliflower or the like, and usually fish, cooked in olive oil and herbs.

Afternoon snack is some sort of Atkins creation, like a bar or other treat.

Dinner is usually chicken or fish and some greens.

It turns out that some of my favorite foods work well with this. Greek salads. Antipasto. Fish. The only craving I anticipate having is breaded meats. The only other possible stumbling block might be my love of crackers and cheese, but as the crackers are simply vehicles for cheese, I'm researching flax meal crackers. There is also a way of encrusting meats and fish with flaxseed meal.

I actually kinda started this diet last week, but went off it this past weekend to do the Mt. Taylor 50k. I didn't think that a brand new style of eating, four days old, was a good way to go into a race I was neither trained for nor ready for, starting at 9000 feet and climbing to 11,000 feet. Twice.

The race, btw, was gorgeous. The aspens were turning, and there were part of the course where the light shone golden through the aspens and the forest floor was littered in golden leaves and dappled sunshine.

Other parts of th course, I'm sure were beautiful, but I was whining and crying at 10,000 feet on my way up to 11,300 feet. I was a regular I Love Lucy

WAAAHHHH.

Why am I doing this? I shouldn't be here. I wasted a spot that could have been used by a real athlete!

WAAAHHHH!

I did the first 25 or so miles with Caroline, who is Deaf. have you ever had a friend whose lamguage you dom't really speak? i know very little ASL, relatively speaking. We drove out together, and I tried gamely to communicate what was happening at the race meeting to her in my pidgin sign language, usually falling back on providing a type of closed captioning on my ipad.

At the race, we quickly fell into the back of the pack. The first part of the race is a clmb up to La Mosqua Peak, maybe 10,800 or so. then downhill for a while, then another climb up the Continental Divide Trail to the start, where you begin the second loop, which climbs Mt. Taylor. I turned my ankle a couple of times, nothing major, but Caroline started having serious knee problems heading up Mt. Taylor, and had to drop soon after.

Caroline is interesting because she can cook. As in, COOK.

She is always posting these wonderful dishes she's made on Facebook. Here's an example:

See, now, if it were me, it wouldn't look that pretty. It would be on a paper plate, sans garnish. Might even have ketchup on it. I would call it "beef with mushrooms." But not Carolyn. No. This is breaded petite sirloin with balsamic portobello mushrooms. Except she wrote it in Italian. Cause she's all classy and shit.

But, that's not the most interesting part of Carolyn, the cooking. The most interesting Carolyn Fact is that she apparently used to weigh 200 lbs more. Three years ago she started power walking, then jogging, and she lost 200 lbs. She did her first half iron a year later. She hasn't finished an ultra yet, but she will. 200 lbs makes my 40 lb loss seem kinda like, well, bullshit.

But, I digress. During the race, we hiked along, running the downhills. We were followed closely by chatting people pulling flags. One of them was Sweet Baboo, who has breathed the same air as me for twelve years and knew, at mile sixteen, that I was building a case for dropping out of the race. Unfortunately, he's too ethical to give me any real aid on the course other than carrying my bottle of Tylenol (shhhhhh.) but he was sympathetic when I did my Lucille Ball imitation.

After climbing Mt. Taylor, there is a cutoff, which I made by a few minutes. Then, you run down, down, down (three miles) into Water Canyon, where you see a sign informing you that it's one mike straight up back to the aid station. THAAAAAT's right. Three miles down, nearly 1000 feet, and then one mike back up.

The last few miles of the course were straight down a ski slope. The last mile or so, I saw this

I came into the finish and got this

..

I also got lovely turquoise and lava rock bracelet.

Last night, we had a "debriefing" at a local pizza place. After rewarding my feets with a pedicure, I headed over there and had a Mediterranean salad. Mmmm.

If you are interested in the Mt. Taylor 50k, which I fully expect to be New Mexico's signature ultra, the website is http://www.mt50k.com . All money raised goes to the runners and to charity, the charity being a Navajo running organization. Mt. Taylor is sacred to the Navajo, as is distance running

So, that was my week, Diary. Now I'll spend the next two weeks focusing on "Induction" and getting ready for Javalina Jundred.

TTFN.

Posted with Blogsy

An annotated course description: the Vermont 100k

Dear Diary,

32 mile drop bag.  Contents: headlamp
jacket, extra pair of shoes, sunscreen,
extra shirt and shorts,
and of course, Ensure Clear + Larabars
(my super foods)

What follows is a description of the course from the website, and my comments.

Vermont 100 Mile Course Description - 2012

There is 9000 feet in elevation gain…the course is going up or down most of the time with only a few stretches that are flat. The last 30 miles are rather challenging....

Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way.

...The first six miles are rollers on a paved road, mainly, leading up to the point where they connect with the 100-milers at mile 6.7. Then there is a mile of paved moderate uphill, then back onto some climbing single track/horse trails until you get to Jenne Rd. Up some, then a sweeping down and up and soon a nice downhill stretch into Camp Ten Bear (the first time)

I didn’t take gels on this course. Instead, I loaded my pack with Gatorade and ate PBJ on white bread throughout the course. It seemed to do the trick.

…a half mile hump that connects you to a 22 mile-long loop. Some road, then meandering trail and Agony Hill – a lumpy steady uphill grind to the halfway point, then on gravel again to Pinky's. Cross Tyson Rd. and it's class 4 dirt road for 2 miles of easy upgrade to Birminghams… Cross a big field into the woods and snowmobile trails, up and down and out onto gravel for a nice 2 mile downhill breather to Tracer Brook.

51 mile drop bag.  Contents: socks, Ensure clear + Larabars.
This bag was deliberately left largely empty in casee I wanted
to drop off gear here.,

The downhill breathers are, pretty nice. But I had a sense of entitlement by the time I reached them, because after all, the course owes you this. Here, at mile 19, I took out my Ensure Clear and 2 larabars (nearly 700 compact calories), and changed my socks. Then, according to the course description:

…now facing mostly uphill for 9 miles. First 3 are the steepest and only a few level sections…then that hump again and Ten Bear again (mile32) where pacers can join you.

My take: After mile 19, you start a a soul-sucking long uphill. It rises nearly 1000 feet, all the way. Here you will hate everyone and everything. You ask,who am I kidding? I’m no distance runner. I have no business being here.

"Somebody, somewhere, owes me a flat, cool trail run," I grumbled darkly, "and that someone is wearing a ring that looks just like mine."

Occasionally, a horse would go clopping by, with unnervingly cheerful riders on their backs. "I'd be cheerful too, if a large animal was doing all the work," i grumbled darkly. But it was pretty cool seeing the horses. We had gotten a lecture on how to approach, or be approached, by the horses, and they us. They were far, far more courteous than being passed by, say, roadies. And they smelled better too.



Oh, shut up. You know it's true.

At Camp Ten Bear (mile 32), I was weighed. My weigh-in was at 160.6, and at Camp Ten Bear I weighed in at 160.7. Story of my fucking life – I run 32 miles and gain an ounce. A nurse told me it was white around my mouth, and that I needed to sit down. She tested my Oxygen and said it was a little low, but coming back up. I put on my ice bandana, drank/ate some more Ensure clear and Larabars, and headed out, and started up “heart break hill” but take it from me, after the climb after mile 19, nothing will bother or surprise you again. Okay, that’s a lie – it will bother you, but you won’t have the energy to be truly angry. Instead, you just try not to cry.

…In your planning keep in mind that the last 30 miles are challenging, with a number of trail sections and short, steep uphills. Just out of Ten Bear, there's a half mile level trail then ¾ mi. fairly steep up Heartbreak Hill on bumpy, usually wet jeep road. A mile of easy grade gravel and first up and down on 2 miles of trail, then back on road at Seabrook at 75.1.

My note: Don’t get off track here. I was busy unwrapping a Larabar and went down the wrong path; it cost me about 20 minutes. At about mile 45, Sweet Baboo came strolling up, I say strolling though he was moving at a sub-10 minute pace. He was maddenly cheerful and gosh, I have to admit I was too, because I was on track to finish. baboo had made me a pace chart, and if you Plan to do this 100k ask me and I'll send it to you.

Anyway, he showed up and asked his pacer if he would stay with me, as it was getting dark. I was, to be honest, pretty grateful for this; although I was to be running until 4 or 5 am, it never occurred to me to get one. I think the pacer was somewhat annoyed at first, as he engrossed himself in conversation with another runner and appeared not to hear the same question when asked it, loudly, about three times, but he redeemed himself by become the most awesome pacer ever. If it weren't for him, I don't think I would have finished.

Bob the Pacer is a physician from Massachusettes. He's getting ready to run The Bear. He was friendly and kept me talking by asking me about myself, which of course is my favorite subject at times. He didn't seem to mind that I wass mostly walking by now, and even got me to run at times when I though I didn't have it in me.

...Then single track up and down and up a steep gravel driveway to Spirit-of-'76 handler station (which is actually at 39 miles). Head out onto 1.5 mi. of up and down trail, then 10 miles of uninterrupted road, most of it downhill, and then a couple of steep roller coaster ups in the last mile to Bill's at 51.5 mi..

At Bill's they weighed me again. 161.5. DAMMIT. See what I mean? But by then I knew that my nutrition and hydration were spot on. i sat down for a bit, but not too long because I didn't want to get chilled. After this, you don’t really know what’s going on because it’s pitch black and you’re trying to watch for glowsticks and not wander off the course. If you have a pacer extraordinaire, as I did, then you can simply focus on the growing pain in your feet—thank goodness for that. i took a no doze, and two advil, and two Tylenol, and I was ready to rock and roll. Or trudge 11 miles. They told me thirteen more. I wept. But at the same time, I have to mention, I was enjoying myself. I loved seeing the horses, and there wasn't NEARLY as mich horse manure on the course as I'd envisioned.

All in all, though, I didn't suffer as much as I had at Javalina 100, despite this being a much more challenging course. Toward the end the hills were simply inevitable. They just kept coming, and were shorter, but since I was moving slower they seemed about the same. At mile 59, my Garmin finally died, taking to heaven all of its data. Yes, that's right. Fucking 310x didn't retain a sing bit of of the 59 miles , like it never happened. It hate it for that. I hurt, but it wasn't the kind of pain that made me cry out. It was a loud ache like, well, like I'd been on my feet for nineteen hours, or something.
And then ahead of me I saw lights of a different color. " There's the finish line," said Bob the Pacer.

You're lying. There is no finish line.

"No really. It is. "

I'll believe it when someone hands me a medal, I grumbled.

i found out the next day that I was the last official finisher. Anyone not finishing the 100k was listed as DNF. They gave me these for finishing...and for finishing under 20 hoirs.
When I crossed the finish line I burst into tears. Then I sat down for a while, until someone asked me if I needed anything, and then I wept again. "I want my husband."

"go check over there," motioning to a sea of bodies, prostrate on cots. Many of them had their heads covered. I thought I saw Sweet Baboo's feet, and his pack. But I hesitated. Didn't want to whip a blanket off some total stranger. Just then, he uncovered mis head and looked toward me and grinned.

"You finished!"
I burst into tears again. "that was hard," I sobbed. 

He, who had just run 100 mies to my 63, nodded sympathetically.

"Lets go back to the hotel and get some sleep," he said.

And then we did.
The end.

...

Posted with Blogsy

Bear Chase 50K, Bear Chase Lake Park, CO. (Race Report)

Dear Diary,

Yesterday, I did the Bear Chase 50K in Colorado, near Denver. 

The Good: Very well organized, top-notch friendly, hard-working volunteers, RIVER CROSSINGS that breathe life back into your poor, tired, hot legs and feet (twice!) big-assed medal, nice finish-line party.  It is a great trail run for anyone doing their first 50k.

The Bad: Hot . It was hot.  Did I say it was hot?  If I didn't: it was HOT.  They said it only got up to the 80s, but for running on a trail that's hot enough.  About 2/3 of the course is unshaded, so it gets hot out there.  It's not terribly scenic. 

At 6:49 I kissed Sweet Baboo and wished him a good race, and then at 6:50 sharp, we were off. 

First off, the course is very much like the Palo Duro 50K, in terms of difficulty, except that the trails are a bit more runnable (less rocky, and a bit less technical.)  If you are familiar with Palo Duro, which is my favoritist 50K ever, then you know that you run a 10K loop, and then two 12ish-mile loops. 

The biggest exception is that this race isn't quite as scenic as Palo Duro.  It takes place on a man-made recreation area, in the middle of which is a gold course and a square, man-made lake. 

The first loop is a 10K, and it's nice, and almost completely shaded, and flat, and you think, wow, this is going to be a cakewalk!   

There is a tiny moment of worry and doubt when you notice the sign for loops 2 and 3 point towards a large hill, and you see a line of people snaking up the side of the hill, but you immediately put it out of your mind, because you are on loop1, and remember, if it isn't happening now, it doesn't exist. 

You come in to the start/finish, where you have a bag o' stuff, if you're like me, lose the arm-sleeves and grab the sunscreen, and head out onto the second loop where, eventually, you become one of those people snaking up the side of that great big hill. 

There is a cool part of the course where you have the first big climb (about mile 12 on the first loop and then mile 24, I think) and when you come up over the top of the climb the skyline of Denver is in view.  It's kind of a strange thing to see in the middle of a 50k trail run, but also kinda cool.

At east aid station, someone would run out and ask what I needed, and take my bottle, and then by the time I got there, it was already filled up with ice, which is one of the main advantages to an urban-type trail run.  They never, ever ran out of ice.

In miles 14ish and 26ish you run through a small woodsy section and there are three river crossings.  You can't jump these; you're going to get wet.  They're only about 12 to 18 inches deep, however, and slow-moving, basically what we call creeks in Alabama, not rivers. 

The first time you just sort of natter to yourself and think, I hope I don't get blisters.  But then there is the second time you cross through these.

Oh.  My. The second time.

Sometimes toward the end of the first full loop God decided to hate on me, and turned on the heat.  The back 2/3 of the big loops are out in the open, with no shade, and it started heating up fast, and there is a little over 4 miles between aid stations in the middle of which is the "big" climb on the course.  When I headed out onto the second loop I took my bandana and loaded it with ice at each aid station.  I had been making excellent time, but no more: my pace had been in the mid 12s and it soared during the second loop.  I am a firm believer in the "run as you feel" mentality, so I didn't push it.

On the 2nd loop when I got to mile 26, when I got to the first river crossing, I stopped and sat down on my butt and let the cold water envelope me from the waist down.  And peed.  That wasn't planned by the way, it just happened.  But the sitting, it was fantastic.  I did it again, twice, (not peeing, just sitting) with each crossing.  Renewed, I bid a sad fareware to the cool water and then headed out to the next aid station at Fox Hollow.  I was pretty satisfied to feel that I was well-hydrtated, and my legs were definitely back online.

After Fox Hollow is another sharp, short, but still disappointing climb, and you run a long section through a grassy plains area, much of it near a highway. It is fully exposed and you are hot.  But, like most of the course, it's runnable, and the rivers had awakened me, along with the knowledge that I was less than 5 miles from the finish. 

Plus, at Fox Hollow, I had two small cups of icy mountain dew, and taken two gels that themselves had caffein in them (that I had with me) as well as a Stinger waffle.  It took a short time for those to work their way into my bloodstream, and I eventually came back to life and started passing people. Mostly men.

You know, I always feel bad for men when I pass them.  I just do.  Usually, they are super fit-looking men, in their 30s or 40s, with close-cropped hair, muscles, and spandex. They have on their zensah leg sleeves, small, efficient and aerodynamic waist belts with fluid, and you can tell they work out.  Everything about them screams aerodynamic.  Everything about them shouts efficiency.


And then *I* trundle past them like a large pack mule.  I usually have a very large floppy hat on, and a back pack full of my crap; I usually have gels, sunscreen, asthma inhaler, various pills, maybe a towel, some TP, maybe a snack or two, some lipstick - shutup - and I'm wearing a bandana loaded with ice, an ipod, and large, round sunglasses.  AND I'm carrying a handheld bottle. Plus, I'm doing some sort of slow shuffle jog when I pass these guys.  I usually just say "hi" or "nice job" or some other inane thing, answer a comment about why my tattoo has a horse on it, and then I'm on my way.  But I do feel bad.  Not bad enough not to pass them.  But bad. 

Big-assed medal. Or breastplate.

I had some waves of nausea at one point but I tried this trick that Sweet Baboo found out about: I grabbed an alcohol prep pad and waved it in front of my nose, and the nausea when away. 

But the last mile or so I became rediculously consumed with passing more men, so I sped up quite a bit and in that heat got a little wasted again.  So then I came into the finish, where of course Sweet Baboo had been done for over an hour.  Holy crap, it was hot . "Do you want any pancakes?" 

Uh, no.  Do you want me to throw up on your feet?

I got a big-assed medal, seriously, this thing could be used to stop bullets.

Eventually, we headed out, and accidentally stumbled upon--accidentally, I swear--a Popeyes chicken place. We got home about 10:30 last night, and I'm whooped. 

I want to give a shout-out to Jennifer, who gave us a place to sleep and fed me the night before, how awesome of her!  She also did this race, and finished, too.  I met her at my failed Bighorn 50 mile attempt. 

All in all, not a bad way to spend a weekend. 

Next Up: The Point Defiance 50k, in Puget Sound.

...

Marathons #3 and #4: Race reports

We flew into Chicago Friday morning, grabbed our rental car, and headed for Kenosha.


Marathon #3: The Wisconsin Marathon
in Brief: Pretty, Flat, Overcast and COOL.
Notable features: After the finish, Bratwurst and Polka Rock,.

I forgot my iPod shuffle, but used my iTouch and it worked fine. I also forgot gels, but the night before the race I dashed across the highway to Dicks sporting goods - and here is what is horrible about Big Box stores: When I walked in the greeter asked me what I needed, and I said "Gu" and he did not know what that was.
I said "Sports gel".  Nope.
I said, "Energy gel" and he pointed me towards all the energy foods, where I found some Roctane.  I love this stuff.  Lots of electrolytes, a bit of caffeine.  I "Galloway"ed this one, running 5 minutes and walking 1 minute.  I felt strong on this race, but had a moment of panic at mile 15-ish, when I started feeling my IT band.  It murmured at me for a while, and then inexplicably, the feeling disappeared.  There were a few uphills, but they were mild.  Lots of concrete, and part of the course went onto a gravel road.
Unbelievably, I blew away my old PR (that I got last week in Nashville) with a finishing time of  4:47 and and...
there was nobody there at the finish. Nobody I knew, anyway.

I wondered around for a bit for 30 minutes, and then Himself came walking toward me - he'd gone and gotten the car and moved it closer and never expected me to finish that fast.  And why would he?  *I* never expected to finish that fast.
We stopped at Popeyes at my request, and I changed in the bathroom,, scarfed down some chicken, and then jumped in the car and headed for Kalamazoo.  We arrived early enough to relax for most of the evening and get a good night's sleep.  We ate at a local Italian chain.

Marathon #4: Kalamzoo Marathon
in Brief: REALLY Pretty, Hilly, Sun skies, Mostly cool.
Notable features: I never found the meal I had the ticket to.  But it didn't matter.  I just wanted to lie down and cry when I was done.

Arriving in Kalamazoo, much like the Wisconsin marathon, the packet pickup was small and low-key.  I checked in at the 50-state challenge table, where they took my picture holding a placard that said "New Mexico."  They gave me my free New Balance 890s for being the first person from NM to sign up.
I "Galloway"ed this one also, running 4 minutes and walking 2.  I were a tired puppy.  But I'm telling you, when use the Galloway method, your legs are fresher toward the end when everyone else is fading.  But boy, my feet hurt. I was not expecting this to be hilly, but it was.  However, at mile 15, I got my feet under me with a long, mile-long downhill.  Most of this course was shady.

Lots of friendly locals, and trees covered with huge pink flowers that looked kinda like huge pink gardenias, but no leaves, just entire trees covered with huge waxy blossoms.  Can anyone tell me what these are?
Oooo, my feet hurt.  I had more Roctane Gels for this.  They are hideously expensive .

Finishing time: 5:17, I think.  After this one, I felt a lot like I did after my very first marathon.  My feet hurt.  My quads hurt. I was a little unsteady when I finished . I went straight back to the hotel and lay in tepid water for a while, and then cleaned up and napped on and off most of the afternoon.  In the evening, we went to a Mongolian Barbecue, where I had some veggies, meat, and a bit of brown rice. Time to start eating clean again.

So what did I learn from this?

• First, who would have thought a slow old lazy woman like me would pull off a sub-five marathon the week after running two others?  
• Second, running at sea level ROCKS.  All that oxygen.  It's awesome.
• Third, I married a stud.  His times on his four marathons were 3:44, 3:42, 3:41, and 3:42.  And he still had enough energy to chase me around a hotel room.
• Fourth, for me, the Galloway method works.  It works well.  

Next up: Jemez 50K trail race.  I DNF'd this one last year; my goal this year is just to finish.

...

Race Report: The Duke City Marath--uh, I mean, 5K.

The Duke City was my 2nd 5k run, back in 2005.  At the time I did it I had done one 5k and one sprint triathlon. Awwww.  Yeah.  I know. I was aDORable then.  Here's a link to that short, perfunctory report back in 2005.  I can't find my time, but I think it was 38 minutes and some change.

I mentioned earlier this week how bitter I was at doing a 5k and passing up a perfectly good half marathon, but it was by direction of my coach, and I don't argue with my coach because so far, everything he's done has worked.

So. Baboo, eh, I mean Coach, headed out on the marathon course, and the rest of us lined up for the 5K. Although most people milled around and didn't seem to know what to do, I set myself with the 9 minute pace crowd, just for fun.  My PR up to this point was a 9:28 minute pace, and I hoped to beat that.  I fantasized about geting a 9 minute pace.

And we were off!  I headed out at a good clip, and refused to look at my Garmin.  I just wanted to run as well as I could.  I had some good tunes on my ipod that I repeated over and over: Vida la Vida, Freedom 90, Tusk, and some others.  The couse is perfectly flat, the roads completely closed. I was enjoying this run.

Dudes.  Viva La Vida is like, the best running song ever.

Play song from iLike.com (opens in another window) 

About the end of mile 1, I caught up with a guy with longish grey hair that was running a pretty good pace.  I stuck with him for about 50 yards, and then thought, I wonder if I can run faster?  I sped up my foot turnover, and cruised ahead of him, looking for another target, and found one, a tall, easy-to-spot chick wearing fake (well, obviously) antennas.  I settled in behind her, trying to keep up with her, which wasn't easy. About this time I caught myself in a sigh.  Which meant, of course, that I wasn't running hard enough.  But that was okay. I felt good.

Mile 1 pace: 9:24

It was a good cold morning for a run, windless, no real sun yet, it had just come up, and a nice flat course, and and--oh, hey, there's long-grey-haired guy again!  I must be slowing down.  But then, oddly enough, he pulled a head of me, and settled out, staying just ahead of me.  I waited to see what he would do; would he speed up?  Nope, he just stayed there.

Huh.  So, I sped up a little, and passed him again, just to see if I could. I maintained my speed and enjoyed myself, running along, still enjoying myself.  I'd passed the turnaround and was headed back on the course. I felt good.  I thought that maybe my sister-in-law and my neice and nephew *might* be out watching, since we were running through their neighborhood, so to put on a good show, I squared my shoulders, lifted my head, and sped up some.

Mile 2 pace: 8:58

At this point I was headed back down Central, aka Route 66, and could see the 5k walkers who were headed out - some where clearly race-walking, while others were walking at a brisk pace, and my mind wandered--how long will it take to finish this at a good brisk walk? and--jeebus, there he was AGAIN, long-grey-haired guy! He cruised past me, and then settled back, staying just ahead of me.

I was beginning to take this personally. Could it be?  Could it be that in a large, city 5K he had determined that for whatever reason, he couldn't stand to be passed by me? Let's find out.

So I sped up, and passed him again, this time I was starting to breathe heavily.  I sped up about as much as I could stand, and left him behind, and this time waited a while before settled back in my pace again.  Still feeling good.  Approaching the last turn.

Mile 3 pace 8:48

I could see the finish line ahead of me, less than a quarter mile, and I could feel myself smiling, because I felt good about this run.  At the same time, there was a girl in a red shirt just ahead of me that I had given up on passing.  She was too fast. The girl with the antenna was long gone.  Way ahead of me.  I couldn't possibly pass her.  I knew I couldn't run any faster at this point.

Except that, well, just then, there he was again!  Grey-long-haired guy, breathing hard, passing me again, and he stopped accelerating just ahead of me like he'd done areadly several times.

I was thinking, really?  Really?  It's 2010 and you have to stay ahead of a woman? Dude, why me? What the #uck is your problem?

And then I thought, well, why not me?  At the time time, as we came into the finish, I just thought, to hell with this.  The last 100 yards or so I lengthened my stride and ran like hell, passing him and the girl in the red shirt quickly, and kept accelerating until I finished.

Final 0.15 mile pace: 7:20
(At some point during this lap Garmin says I hit a 5:29 pace)

I finished, got my finisher's pin, and then wandered about for a while before heading out for a nap and a shower - then I came back to find Coach Sweet Baboo, who did his marathon in 3:47.

Things I noticed doing this race:

• Gradually, the people I pass seemed to be getting smaller.  
• 5K runs are just plain fun!
• I've never finished in the middle of the pack before. It's crowded there.  
• No matter how fast you are, it still feels hard.  You just get to finish a little faster.
• People aren't as chatty and friendly in that part of the pack. They're all busy trying to breathe, I guess.  
• When so inspired, you can almost always go faster than you think you can. 
• No matter how fast you are, there's some idiot man who can't stand to be chicked

Final average pace: 8:58

Thanks, long-grey-haired guy, wherever you are. 

...

Thursday 13: Untitled.

Dear Diary:

13 It is finally raining here.  We came home from Leadville to rain.  The next morning I got up to go to work, put the dog out, and she has two preferred places to be when it rains: huddled under a patio table that affords no protection, or sitting in the middle of the patio, in the rain, staring in at me, because sadly, she doesn't know:

I will not be manipulated.

I finally went out side with a leash and dragged her over to her shelter, a large shed that is clean, dry, and has a large doggie door in the side.  She resisted the entire time, dug in her feet, and as soon as I let go of the leash, bolted back over the sit on the wet patio, in the downpour, and stare at me. Fine.  Whatever.  I went to work. This is proof of creationism.  Dogs could not have survived for millions of years without us.  They are just too, too dumb.  Sweet, but dumb. 

12.  Now that Sweet Baboo is "tapering" (read: he's only running 50 miles this week) he's the boss of my training, and runs with me.  For some reason, this makes me run faster.  I don't know why.  It's not like I'm trying to prove anything to himself.  Maybe it's just that having a running buddy, I'm too self conscious to take my usual lazy walk breaks.  The result: faster times in training. 

11.  I have come to the conclusion that I am sadly lacking in symmetry.  How do I know this?  Behold, my evidence:
a) Whenever I wear Cw-x tights, the "supportive" seams always rotate inward on my right leg.
b) My left calf muscle has an ongoing issue, but only my left.

I have to assume that I lurch along, not unlike Quasimoto.  Next thing you know, I'll have a built-up running shoe. 

10.  This week I had a kid's case on my desk, one that I taught my last semester of teaching.  I went down to the youth detention center (kid jail) to interview him for admission.

Since I last saw him, he's used a lot of meth, heroin, alcohol, and inhalants.  He lives alternately on the streets and in hotels, when he gets enough money from stealing and reselling stuff and has some leftover after buying drugs.  The year that I taught him was the last year he finished of school.  He's not as smart as he used to be.  He's really tired. 

When I asked him if he wanted to come to the hospital where I work.  He waved his hand around the jail, and said, "I don't know.  I seem to do best when I"m in here.  Maybe I should just stay here as long as I can".

When you're 17, and resigned to a life in lockup, who can give you hope?

How do you get hope back? 

9.   I turns out that even though I had only planned to do a few long events on the last quarter of the year, the training is still sucking up a lot of time.  I had planned on doing a lot of sprint triathlons, but holy hell: I spend most of my time running.  I can't believe I signed up for a hundred miler.  I  must be crazy. 

8.  Sorry for the downer (#7).  It's just that I thought about this kid from time to time.  He was the smartest in his class.  I figured he'd be the one to make it.  You just never know. 

7.  I dropped another pound.  I went to my ticker, up at the top of this page, to enter in my new weight, and it was all, "New!  Now track your waist measurement!"  Oh, HELL no.  I am not going public with that.  My weight is one thing; my actual measurements are another. 

6.  I will share, however, that the size 10s are starting to loosen.  This is good, because I want to weigh as little as possible if I'm going to try to drag my ass over 100 miles. 

5.  My training this week:

• Friday: 10 mile hike to the top of Hope Pass and back.
• Saturday: 7.3 mile run around Silverthorne, Colorado, Elevation 9000 feet, rising up to around 9400 feet, dropping down to 8800 feet, and then back up to 9000.
• Sunday: 7.8 mile trail run alongside Turquoise Lake, mostly flat, starting at 9900 feet.
• Monday: rest
• Tuesday: 4.2 mile trail run at home, elevation gain, 563 feet.
• Wednesday: 8 mile road run, elevation gain, 355 feet. 
• Thursday, 6.7 miles, road/trail, elevation gain, unknown.
• Total mileage: 44 miles.  Not a bad start. 

 4.  It's amazing that I ran on Thursday.  I haven't stuck with a training plan and actually run a single Thursday until now.  Of course, Baboo is watching over me, so I'm too self conscious not to.  It will be an even bigger miracle of I do both of my long runs this weekend: 20 miles on Saturday, 12 on Sunday. 

3.   Wednesday's run was momentous for a very important reason: I wore a running skirt.  I have NEVER been able to wear those things.  But last night, I wore one, and only tugged the shorts down twice.  You men won't understand.  You women will. 
 
2.  I will share my favorite fast meal: steamable bagged veggies, kraft easy mac in a cup, and some tuna or salmon.  I suppose you could use chicken.  Mix it all together, and divide in half, and voila: the guilty pleasure of mac and cheese with veggies and protein.  
 
1.  Thursday is binge day.  I have decided that I will have: a donut.  More on this later.  
 
... 

Suckfest's younger brother...

is known as the "Run to Break the Silence" 20k.

It sounds innocent enough, doesn't? Awwwww. Why, it's not even a half marathon. It's a baby half marathon! How sweet. Yes, let's go do this. It's for charity, for a local Oral School

The day after the 80-mile suckfest ride in high 90s heat, after which the DailyPlate informed me that I could have 2088 more calories (but I was too tired to get them) yes, let's go run in the foothills . In the heat.

So. It starts out at Sandia Casino, and then climbs gently for a while, and then sucks your soul dry for over 2 miles, and then goes back down to the casino. It's a good, well-marked course on dirt service roads, and was well supported with water and gatorade and nice volunteers.

As you can see by the profile, it's not completely straight up and not completely straight down. I wasn't last, but it was hot, and I was pretty sick of being tired, sore, and damp, so I finally finished, and said, "take me home". And Baboo said, do you want to go get food first? So then I was like, "um - yeah, okay. Food. Then home."

There was about 1400 feet of elevation gain and loss. My quads are treshed. My inner adductors are pissed. My butt muscles are pissed.

Then I went to Einstein's bagels, and asked for a spinach and mushroom bagel pizza on a fluorentine bagel. No, wait, did I say A bagel pizza? I ordered three. And a cup of brocolli cheese soup. Then I went to Keva juice, and got a large Keva Kolada. Mmm.

Miles for this week:

Bike: 80 miles

Run: 22.3 miles

Swim: 1700 meters

Distances for July:

Bike: 367 Mi

Run: 53.65

Swim 11150

Now I will shower. And sit in air conditioning. And drink, drink, drink. And sleep, sleep, sleep.

...

Vegetarian Squid Nugget.

Ever since my employer installed POS newest version of MSOffice and it's evil sidekick, IE 7, in my computer has started freezing up about twice an hour. In between freezes, I get some work done.

This morning, it suddenly occured to me that one of the reasons I've been feeling so blue lately is because I'm not getting to do what I love to do most of all: an easy trail run in the cool of the day before all the swarms of locusts mountain bike riders and contribitors of dog crap people who don't "believe" in leash laws show up.

Don't get me wrong - the training is going well. I'm exactly as I should be at this point. It's just that training for an Ironman is a lot like doing a thesis: you start out fairly enthusiastic and excited. Gradually, however, as THE day approaches, you're sick of the whole thing and ready to get it over with, wondering if it's all worth it. It's work.

That's not enough for me; I need at least one run every week that I do because I enjoy it. When I do, then I can shrug off most of life's annoyances and worries.

So. But. Anyway. Lying in bed, I worked out in my mind a route that I figured to be about 3 miles. I started at the crack of dawn, and it was awesome. I started out on neighborhood streets, joined silently for a short time by other morning runners who were barely discernable in the dawn light and getting their morning fix in.

After about a mile, I turned onto a trail leading up into the foothills, and I was alone. Up, up, up I climbed continuously for about a mile, jogging slowly, joined occasionally by bunnies zig-zagging down the path in front of me and the occasional coyote ambling across the path. I turned off and headed up a small arroyo, still climbing, happy that I was still running.

Alone this way, I'm not big or slow: Compared to the stillness around me, I feel swift, no matter how slowly I might moving.

On this run there are two places where I crest a hill top as I round a corner. Looking down, the whole of Albuquerque, lights still twinkling, is spread out before me. Each time I crest there's the satisfaction and grattitude that I get to do this.

I landed in my back yard and walked around for a bit, cooling off, and my cats stared at me enviously through the window. I stretched, and watched some quail run across the back yard for a bit. This is what I have to do each week, I know now, to get my fix in. Antidepressants are cheaper than running shoes, but not nearly as satisfying.

So. About the title. Well, Sweet Baboo and I go to this World Food Market every week. It has a large selection of Chinese vegetarian foods. I go every week hoping that they'll be carrying the vegetarian shrimp that I've had and loved - but alas, I think they have stopped carrying it. Anyway. While looking for it, I saw this on the shelf: vegetarian squid nugget. I'm not really sure what to do with it, but I'm of the opinion that if you find a food that looks like the name of a punk rock band, you must try it. So I brought it home. I couldn't think of any title for this post. So there ya go.

...

In which I complete a tiny, tentative run.

My workout plan: run until I can't breath any more, then walk until I can. Rinse. Repeat.

My lungs were burning.

I thought I would throw up.

But I ran most of it. Oh yes, I did.

I felt my IT Band a bit towards the end, when I was running downhill. Then it was dark, and so I stopped, and walked home.

Then I did the burny stretch that my physical therapist showed me, felt better.

I ran, actually ran, at a faster pace than I did a few days ago.

I'm back. I can run.

[okay, with conviction, now...]

I'M BACK. AND I CAN RUN.

...

Gosh, when I see it written down like that...

October's totals:

Bike: 15 Mi Can you tell I got pretty sick of the bike? This past Saturday was actually the first time I got into a saddle since AUGUST. I had several back bike experiences that really kind of freaked me out. First, there was my tire blowing up at Barb's race. Then there was several times that I fell over while trying to clip in going up a hill. Then there was the couple times I got ditched on rides with other people. I'm going to do indoor cycling for a while. I predict a better season next time.

Run: 52 Mi - My injury is slowly getting better - in fact it felt better this past Sunday than it's felt in weeks. I'm planning to start bringing this up soon, to get ready for my first 50-miler in February at Rocky Racoon.

Swim: 4700 M - I'm in a master's swim class now. We do a minimum of a couple thousand, so look for this number to increase pretty fast.

Wrapping up the 2008 Triathlon season. What did I accomplish?
I did a 25K midnight run in Texas.
I did a 25-mile trail run in Colorado.
I did four marathons, in Mississippi, Texas, New Mexico, and Utah.
I did a 50k ultra marathon in Alabama and one in Texas.
I did five sprint triathlons in New Mexico
I did the 1.2 mile swim and the half marathon run at Barb's race.
I did one ironman triathlon in Idaho.
I lost ten pounds, and gained thirteen back. (170 lbs right now)
I lost a dress size, and then gained that back, too. (size 12)
I can do 8 pushups in a row now. (I've been slacking on this. I'll have to get back on the ball if I want to meet my year goal of 10 in a row)
I've just about got my last kid graduated and gone.
I got four black toenails.
I got my first over-use injuries!

Here's my 2008 totals, so far:
Bike: 1644 Miles (2740 km)
Run: 669 Miles (1115 km)
Swim: 32 miles (51,541 M)

Apologies to my international friends. I'll put up KM and KG up soon.

Not bad for a big girl who hates to exercise!

...