I'd originally set out to post about the Olympic marathon trials, which were AMAZING, by the way, and more about the fantastic 5.5 hours and 25 miles of trails I did with a group last weekend. I'll likely mention it anyway in this blog, but the week really unfolded differently, and I feel like I need to be more true to reality instead of just focusing on the awesome that was last weekend.
I don't think that any of us who love to race and run come with personalities that tell us to sit back, relax, take that rest day, and all that good stuff. "Suck It Up, Buttercup" is a frequent mantra, and others in the vein of "What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger." For the record, I DO generally agree with that most of the time; we can do a lot more than what we limit ourselves to, and sometimes we do have to go too far to discover those things we're capable of doing. Some of my best runs and races have come on days when I just wanted to stay in bed, or when the first handful of miles didn't feel great. There are times, though, when running isn't the magical cure-all. Sometimes, rest is just the thing, even though it's hard as runners to admit that time off is just as crucial as the tempo runs, speed work and long runs.
My week started harmlessly enoough. My plate's been especially full lately; I wrote off not being able to double-up on local Serpents Trail on Monday as fatigue from a weekend with a very long trail run, yoga, and hike with 2000 foot elevation change. The next day, though, I just didn't have any mojo. There were outside reasons for this, but I've always been able to "just run" and block that stuff out physically and mentally. I canceled my early run, and figured that Wednesday track would be great. Wednesday wound up being many times worse than Tuesday. My body, heart, and mind were not in it for running, yoga or any other kind of moving around. Still, I told myself, suck it up. Don't be a pansy. I've always said "listen to your body" is a bunch of B.S., because often the body says "go eat some chocolate cake!" or "mmmm, wouldn't those french fries taste good right now?"
What followed shouldn't have been a surprise, but was totally discouraging nonetheless. I felt like I was moving through sludge on the warmup. This wasn't an epic pace; just waking up the body. The planned workout was different than what we've been doing, and was something I should have been able to hang on to easily; 800 meter repeats with 400 jogs between, done in groups of three with similarly-paced runners. I barely made it around one time, feeling like a brand new runner who was attempting to run a world record pace on the track. My back had been bothering me since Monday, and that was also wound up tighter than ever. It hurt, and everything was tight. I couldn't do it, and bowed out of it, walking it off a few laps. I was dejected but tried to tell myself hey, it's okay. Everyone has off days. I needed to go clean at the yoga studio where I work in trade, so I decided to leave early for the first time since we started this group, and head over to take the "playtime" class, and follow up with a cleaning. This is considered an advanced yoga class, and I am NOT an advanced yogi. Still, it's encouraged for all because of the fun and playful nature, and the chance to work on cool inversions, jumping into stuff, and basically just play around on the mat. I figured, hey, the body can't handle running tonight. It's cool. Yoga's what it needs tonight.
Yoga wound up being even worse than speed work. This was a totally fun class; something where I should have felt like a kid again, jumping, handstanding, and other cool things. I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep, though. By the time I finished, I think I'd spent close to half the time on the mat in child's pose, a restorative pose that one can assume if things are too tough or overwhelming. I rarely go into this in the regular, hotter classes, so it was a shock to me to feel this bad for the "playtime" class. As someone who always pushes through, and gets it done, I really felt like a failure for going 0 for 2 on attempts at physical activity that should have been no brainers.
What went wrong? Well, I guess I've just been lucky in being able to push through stuff....pain and fatigue, whether directly related to running, or not-but it finally caught up with me. My first instinct was to beat myself up about it. Recognizing this as not productive after doing a little bit of it, I worked to change the mindset. I started with settling down, getting showered, and laying in bed reading to relax until I fell asleep. I finally headed to the chiropractor this morning, and already feel more relaxed. He could have easily used a sledgehammer for the adjustment; I was wound up tight as a tick. This felt good, but I was still feeling like a bit of a schmuck between the bad workouts, and my friends knowing that something else was obviously going on, and showing their concern. I jokingly add "of awesomeness" to a lot of things....beer cooler of awesomeness, mile of awesomeness, long run of awesomness......while I don't dig Debbie Downers, I think I'm figuring out that I do need to cut some slack on the idea that I need to be positive about everything all the time. Some days, some workouts, some life situations, are just shitty and hard. There's no way around it. Working the problem, and figuring out the best solution, is what matters most.
The chiropractor, the fabulous Dr. Yale here in Grand Junction, advised me to skip yoga or running this evening, so I'm going to stick to that advice as much as I'm itchy to do what I call "revenge run" or yoga practice to make up for the way things went yesterday. I know he's right that I need to give the back and body the rest but it's hard to follow through sometimes. I'll take the opportunity to do other things and make the most of the down time, and keep in mind that I've made enough training deposits to not be concerned about a few days off this week.
Next up on my schedule will be the Appleton Freezer 4-miler on Saturday, followed by a 2-3 hour long slow trail run on Sunday. I did a glorious run with a group of eight local runners last weekend, covering 25 miles around Mary's Loop, Steve's Loop, Moore Fun, and other trails here near the Colorado/Utah border. I feel a little off-kilter for racing, but maybe this unintentional extreme taper will be good. I was also very inspired by the runners at the Olympic marathon trials, and getting to watch a fun, stealthy feed by another fellow runner who did a small-time stream of the event. I felt like I was right up in the action as he ran back and forth on the trials loops, and commented about ALL the runners, and not just the two or three big names in the game. Though my body sort of said "enough" this week, my mind is more in the game than it has been in a long time, and the trials just fueled that enthusiasm. I'm going to be patient, let the body catch back up to the mind, and let the two start trying to get along again out there on the roads and trails.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Occupy Bangs Canyon: The 2012 Bangs Canyon Fatass 30K and 60K
The idea of running something called a "Fatass" is probably not all that appealing to the uninitiated. You don't hear about tens of thousands of people signing up for the 116th Boston Fatass, or the Fatass 5K to Benefit Children in Need. It's such a refreshingly simple means of getting out to run, race, and learn to rely on one's self, though, that the appeal really should be as wide and long as the race this past Saturday through Bangs Canyon, amidst the dirt, sand and slick rock of Western Colorado.
A Fatass is the moniker attached to smaller, community-based races characterized by the phrase "No Fees, No Award, No Aid, No Wimps." They often occur just after the new year, and are most popular with your rank-and-file trail runners and general long distance crowd. Courses are generally very sparsely marked, and runners can't depend on aid stations or rock and roll bands to get them through. Runners carry what is needed, including a map, cell phone, water, and whatever else one needs to bring along to stay out of trouble.
Grand Junction had a Fatass that was put on for many years, and the tradition was revived a few years ago by local Ironman, Leadville Trail 100 finisher and all around great athlete Kevin Koch. I'd never heard of a Fatass in my early years of running, but as I got into longer distances, I heard that we had one in my neck of the woods. A really well-written piece on last year's event in our local newspaper really piqued my interest, and with no marathon and two long trail races on my spring schedule, I was all over it this year. The Race Formerly Officially Known As A Fatass had been given the civilized name of the Bangs Canyon 30K/60K. Whether it was good word-of-mouth in the local running community, the more "friendly" name, or generally decent whether, there seemed to be many more people talking about running and racing this year compared to the previous few years, when 10-12 people total participated between different distance options. Besides local usual suspects, my friend Jen from Delta had committed to come up, as had Mad Dog relay teammates Mike from Olathe and Audra from Ridgway.
Usually, I've got a plan as far as my race and distance when there are multiple options, but I was decidedly undecided right up until the start. A couple of other runners thought they'd be doing the 60K; Jen and I both said that we'd play it by ear and consider a "loop plus", if not the whole two loops out in the canyon. Jen showed up at my place, and I drove us up Little Park Road, past sections of the Tabeguache and other area trails, until we got to the Bangs Canyon Staging Area. I still remained completely noncommital on distance, with a plan to run the first loop at a consistent pace, and then figure out if another loop would be prudent based on the first 19-ish miles (yes, 19 miles is a bit more than 30K, but as with some longer trail runs, all "official" race distances are approximate).
We signed in, and more runners started to trickle in. It was a truly gorgeous morning, and the early sun lit up the canyon while runners socialized and milled about. As race time approached, I stripped off some outer layers and put on a bright pair of OP shorts. I wasn't about to wear a skirt in this-I know how often I've fallen in other trail races-but needed some color and flavor out there. Probably sounds insanely stupid but I race better that way.
(Sandra, Ben, and I are really confused over the trail map)
(some of the boys, with race director Kevin at left)
(and some of the girls)
Besides the human entrants, there were a number a canine runners as well. This was going to be an all-comers kind of day. We all had our maps in hand, and when race time came, Kevin asked if there were any questions. I had to throw out a "Will there be any bands on the course?" smartass comment before he gave us the official go-ahead.
Almost immediately, we had our first-near crisis in the run. EVERYBODY failed to follow the course map and Kevin's directions, bearing right at the first fork in the trail instead of left. Shannon, Kevin's wife, immediately saved the race and yelled that everybody was heading in the wrong direction. Whoops. Soon, the two-dozen odd runners were turned around and headed in the correct direction, running downhill over packed snow, dirt, and some occasional muddy and icy spots.
Rather than embracing my inner "You're not as fast as these gnarly trail chicks, hang back, be conservative," I seemed to be setting a plan early on to run one strong loop, more aggressively paced than I might do on my own. I stuck with the half-dozen or so ladies who went out in a pack together, not able to run AND talk at that pace, but able to tuck in at the back and keep up. Eventually, Audra and Vanessa meandered ahead, but I seemed to be able to keep up with Sarah, Shannon and Kathaleen decently. I wasn't quite sure how long I could maintain this effort but stuck with it. I'd run sections of this area before, but never this portion of the trail, and the novelty of something new was helping me to hang in there. When Kathaleen started talking about how wet she was (from her Camelbak leaking), we all just busted up. This was making it pretty easy to mosey along at their pace that was a bit faster than I'd have gone on my own.
We'd been warned to save something for the climb back, but as we ran toward the river, I started to feel more and more relaxed, continuing to hang at the back of the pack of ladies. Mike took multiple pit stops in the early miles, and I had to give him a hard time the third time he passed me up. I also chatted a bit with Adam, who had a beautiful chocolate lab that looked much like my dog Wilson as a pup.
Plummeting down toward the river, I just had to look around a few times and appreciate everything about this run; the beauty of the trail, the company I was keeping, and having the good health to be able to participate.
Hitting the bottom of the route, we ran along the river, and then began the long, steady climb uphill-the hard part for which we'd been told to save ourselves.
Early on the uphill, we encountered Greg doing his best zombie impersonation,
and soon after that, we saw John, a 2-time Leadville Trail 100 finisher, and Kirk, a 17-time LT100 (and onetime winner) and Hardrock 100 finisher. We were about eleven miles in now, and I felt okay, but a little off the pace of the other ladies. Somewhere in here, I was doing nothing in particular, and felt a little "ping" in my right calf. Nothing bad or horribly concerning, but running uphill took on a new level of tweakage, with that calf kind of pinching with every step. As much as my mind was totally in the game for pushing to stay with the ladies, I recognized that as a Bad Ideas Club submission immediately, letting them go as I fell back a bit.
There were some lonely miles in here. This was the greyest part of the course; I was by myself, and my A-game wasn't around today. I had a bit of a moment during this time, alone with some people moving on ahead, and others out-of-sight behind me. Any deep, profound moments didn't last long, though, as I refocused on making an effort to alternate speedy hiking with running to avoid overtaking and injuring the calf.
Turning back onto a familiar section, I passed the ancient, overturned blue jeep I've never photographed (soon...soon....old camera died and am still awaiting a battery on a "nused" DSLR camera). Ah, yes, I knew a big uphill slickrock climb was coming, but I knew there wasn't too much more to run. As the trail snaked up and down, I'd hear occasional joyful, faraway yells from other runners, but wasn't sure how close or far away they were. It echoed through the canyons and put a smile on my face.
Making a turn downhill for one final plummet before the long final climb, I could see a runner who looked like Shannon. She appeared to be closer than she was; in actuality, I needed to snake around quite a bit to get back to where she was. I heard a few more celebratory whoops off in the distance, and as I eventually started moving uphill myself, I could see two runners off in the spot I'd been when Shannon seemed so close. Continuing up the slick rock, I was very tired, but managed to alternate hiking and slow running. Then, clear as a bell, I could hear a loud, operatic scale being sung somewhere behind me in the canyon by someone I presumed was Elizabeth, one of the runners who did a little singing on New Year's Eve. I couldn't tell exactly how close it was, or who it was for sure, but was music to the ears late in the game.
Getting close to home, I saw Adam and his dog heading back out again. Ah, so there would be at least one 60K runner today, or so it seemed. Nice. I knew I was not doing another lap, but thought it was cool that others were going to stick it out for another loop. Continuing uphill, I passed John and Marty, who were done, but meandering their way back down the slick rock a bit. It was pretty slick here, and as I slid around cautiously on that funky ankle, I saw John go down hard. He seemed okay, but it made me cringe. I had no doubts as it was that I was just doing one loop, but knowing myself, I knew that calling it a day after one solid lap was probably a great idea. The light was getting flatter, stuff was icing up a bit, and I didn't see anything for me to gain today by attempting another lap.
Once off the slick rock, I just scampered with what I had left to get up the trail, but didn't know the time. The borrowed, newer Garmin I've been using yet again died before the event was over (I'm wondering if anyone else with newer Garmins has experienced this issue, which I never had with my now-dead 205), so I didn't really know where I was time-wise. I was sure I was over four hours, but was feeling decent about my effort regardless of the time. Coming into the lot and finishing, Kevin called my time as 3:57. I was the last sub-4 runner in, and pretty stoked to hit that mark. This hasn't been my forte, and it was a sign that I've indeed closed the gap a bit between my road and trail running.
In the end, Audra had won the women's side of things,
and that pack of women I stuck with for the first 10 or 11 miles had finished about ten minutes ahead. Feeling really good about my performance, and hanging with those ladies (yeah, it was easy running for them, but still), I happily got into some dry clothes and assumed my position by the fire pit. Thus began the "Occupy Bangs Canyon" portion of things. I've joked with friends that when I finish the Desert R.A.T.S. 50-miler, I'd just like a few of them to show up shortly before I come in. They can go home, read War and Peace, shower a few times, kick back a beer or two...I don't care, it'd just be nice if the finish area is not deserted. In that spirit, I layered up and settled in for the long haul, as Adam continued his second loop, and Jeff, who was running his one loop consecutively after his wife Kathaleen so someone could always keep an eye on their kids. As we hung out, the snow began to fall, vintage 80's boomboxes appeared, and hula-hooping skills (or lack thereof) were demonstrated. Ray busted out a buffalo pelt from his car (because, as you know, everybody keeps one of these things in the trunk of their car, right?). Too much fun was had with that thing.
Now that it was getting later in the day, I was beginning to chill, but Adam and Jeff were also due in anytime. Sooner than expected, we saw Adam and his doggie come up the trail, and soon after that, Jeff made his appearance. Adam got one of the lovely plastic winner medal that the male and female 30K champs had received.
When Jeff got in, he got a beer and the satisfaction of being through running solo late in the afternoon. No, he's not really crying here, though it kind of looks like it. I'm not going to pick on Jeff-he brought me a shirt from the GABR, or the Great American Beer Run, which he will be putting on again for the first time in a few years at the end of this month.
I stuck around for a little bit before heading off, thoroughly invigorated by my own race, and the ensuing hang that followed for the others still on the course. There was a brief bit of worry that I'm not quite prepared for the Moab RedHot or the Desert R.A.T.S. run, but that thought was squelched because I knew this was a good run for me for the day, and that with incremental increases in effort and distance, I'll do both of those races upright and unbroken. On this particular Saturday, it was good to just get out and move my post new year's "fatass" around the trails with friends for a bit.
(Thanks to Shannon and Kevin Koch, and Jen Stagner, whose photos appear in this entry)
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Beer Running, Tandem Treadmilling, And Running In New Year
Ages ago-well, more like 16 months ago-I had the good fortune to be selected as a test subject in a study for an article in Runner's World magazine regarding running performance and alcohol consumption. It was a great excuse to run, drink some beer, and go through all kinds of cool testing that I wouldn't have been able to do otherwise. I chronicled the experience here, here, and here, and then just waited to see what would come out in print. After the story was pushed back several times, I wasn't sure that we'd ever see it in print. Well, this week, it finally ran (pun intended). It was a hoot to read it, and remember how things went down with people whom I was only somewhat acquainted with back then whom I'm fortunate enough to call friends now, including "The Lightweight" Bryan (featured in one of my posts this summer after his amazing Leadville Trail 100 finish), and badass trail runner Cynthia, a top finisher on the women's side at the Imogene Pass Run this year and regular at the yoga studio where I've been practicing since August. It wound up running at half the length it was originally written, and with none of the photos taken during our study ran in the article. So, if you'd like to chuckle at Bod Pods, and running with all kinds of crap strapped to the face, you'll have to check the pictures in my above links. I know we looked pretty funny, but I'm thinking we're a bit more photogenic than that frightening Homer Simpson picture on pages 54 and 55. Although I know the group was too small to draw any major conclusions, it was cool to see that we ladies held our own.
Another big event for the week was an annual gathering to celebrate and run in the new year. I went last year, and it consisted of some hula-hooping, a little Kentucky moonshine courtesy of Bryan and Elizabeth, and a freezing/life-affirming midnight run during which I donned a running skirt, swore a blue streak until my legs became numb, and then ran from 2010 straight into 2011. To the outsider, it might've seemed strange, but this was such a cool way to ring in the new year that I knew I'd be doing it again. This time around, Elizabeth was putting together a video compilation of the year in running, and all while back visiting family and friends in Kentucky. It started to get amusing when I'd get texts asking "what race did so-and-so bruise their foot in?" or "what race had the bowl with the animal in it for an award?" but it was fun to recall each of these races while being point woman in the research department. Although I'd helped some, I really had no idea what Elizabeth had come up with, so it was a real treat to view this and check out all the experiences had by folks in our running community.
There was other fun at the party as well, including the revival of tandem treadmilling. My friend and Dirty Girl teammate Shannon joined me for an attempt at treadmilling for two. All I can say is that the results are not pretty; we'll have to practice if we ever hope to be better than the likes of Ace And Gary, featured early in the 2011 running video. There was also a surprising musical portion of the evening, when we learned that longtime club member Liz can play a mean guitar and sing. And, yes, there was alcohol, oh alcohol. I don't often cut loose like that, but it just sort of went that way between peach smoothie awesomeness being blended in the kitchen, my own beer on hand, and some preservative-free red wine being uncorked late in the evening. This was all while some of us were decked out in the night's theme of "Polyester, Or Clothes That Should Be Recycled." It was a curveball, but I'd say we rose to the occasion.
After that night of craziness, I had one of those rare "Man, I am not motivated to do ANYTHING" kinds of days, but did manage to make it to the hot yoga community class in the afternoon. Runner/partygoer/peach farmer/smoothiemaker James was there too, and I laughed when he said he was going to be keeping an eye on me to make sure I didn't pass out. Once again, though, a little bit of physical activity proved to be just the ticket to hitting the re-set button. It was a brutal class after the party, but I felt a gazillion times better at the end.
Getting back into the swing of things, I'm excited to start a surprisingly busy January as far as running and racing goes. Track night is still going strong, and I had a workout this week that is proving to me that even a little speed work goes a long way. We have a self-supported 30K and 60K coming up this weekend, and I'm legitimately toying with running the 60K as a training run. It's probably an awesomely bad idea, and I may very well do the safe thing, and stick to the 30K. The weather's been great this week, though, and I am hearing the call of a longer run. I'm also buying into the theory that sometimes you have to go a little to far and cross that line to see that of which one is really capable. I won't be the first to finish and may very well be the last, but that's not my motivation. Watching that video on New Years's Eve, and seeing some of the impressive stuff accomplished by my friends, from first Imogene Pass Run to 50-milers, 100-milers, Ironmans, and beyond...it gets me to challenge and push my own self-imposed limits. I know the road to success in such events is paved in sweat and blood, but that's what will make success so sweet in the end. 2012 is going to be all about pushing through those walls, learning to be limitless in goal-setting, and holding myself accountable to doing the work to make those goals.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again, You're Never Gonna Keep Me Down: 2011 In Review
We'll Be Singing When We're Winning
I kind of rode into the early part of this year on a wave of the best running I'd ever done; 2010 ended with three truly awesome races in a row, the last one being the Winter Sun in Moab. Cruising into the new year, things seemed to be off to a good start. I hit up the freebie/cheapie Appleton Freezer 4-miler, and stayed competitive with my speedy friend Suzie until the end when she dropped the hammer on in. This ended with those equal parts bliss and nausea, doubled over on the side of the road, knowing you laid it all out there. We were up at 5th and 6th overall in a small but very speedy field, and 1st and 2nd women overall. Being a slow-twitch kind of gal, this was pretty awesome.
Moving on from there, it was more or less all about running long and slow. I'd flaked out of the 55K at the Moab RedHot the year prior, opting instead for the shorter 33K. It was a good move that year; I'd been slightly injured and a little undertained. I hit the long runs but had my doubts about getting through 34 miles to the point of almost bowing out again. A wise friend-the same one who taught me the ways of POSE running-told me I'd regret it for sure if I did that downshift, and just needed to get out there and DO it, proving that it's those running friends who do seem to know me the best.
My other friends who thought they might race it were not registered; I'd be lone-wolfing it. It was, if anything, an opportunity to prove to myself that I COULD run trails-and COULD run really long. It wouldn't be as fast as one of my road races at a similar distance, and that was cool. On that day, I knew my mission was enjoy, keep moving, and finish. I truly expected that a point in time would come when the pain of the distance would overtake me. Imagine my surprise when, as the miles ticked off, I became more and more tired, but never reached the point of being miserable, or of the distance being more than I could tackle. This was one of the most wonderful things about that day. I wasn't there to contend against anyone else; it was all about defeating my fears. Doing it solo, taking pictures and video of the spectacular scenery-it made for a special day.
Moving ahead, my running was....no better way to put it....a little distracted and uninspired at times. The lack of training log or Garmin was fantastic for me for awhile, but I'll be the first to admit that I lost a little discipline with that lack of structure. Heading to Moab for Canyonlands, I battled that miserable wind blowing up the canyon, and I think the canyon, and highway into Moab, won a resounding victory. This fast course has always stymied me a bit, but even I was a little shocked at how bad I sucked on this course in March.
The next weekend promised to be loads of fun, and I looked forward to it; the 24 Hours of Moab relay. This was an example of things coming together organically. Our 5-woman, 1-man team was coming together for the first time this weekend, and we all just meshed. We were just there to have fun, but quickly found ourselves in the running to win the large team division. Our system of handing off to one another, and general organization, kind of flowed and happened. You couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces even when we learned we were NOT the winners, and had taken a close second to another team. The only damper was that damn fall I took, and the only major injury I've sustained in five years of running.
After the initial excruciating pain of the ankle roll and fall on slick rock at 3am, I'd been able to walk around camp at the relay. It was the end of my running for the race, but that was okay. I figured a few days of ice and rest and I'd be good to go. I was horrified, though, as I watched the ankle puff, and could feel the pain getting worse. I don't do pity parties, and I don't cry on Facebook about how my life sucks. I've got SO many blessings and good things going on, but when my regular doctor and ortho doctor told me "No Boston," I was crushed. This was going to be my year to run it for a PR. The thought of my first DNS had never entered my mind. Still, I made plans to go ahead to Boston to cheer on my friends. Plane and hotel reservations had been done ages ago; I could be bummed at home or try to make something positive of this injury.
Enter the miracle man, my physical therapist, Bryan. He'd seen my appointment scheduled for the week following Boston. Bryan called me up, and saved the day with thoughts of a plan of action to get me to Boston. I really didn't want to get my hopes up, but this was beyond exciting. I was willing to try anything, and knew I'd feel better about missing the race if it came down to it. Bryan drove me like a mule for a week and a half, and I did everything he asked of me. When I finally got to my two test runs at the end of all this guerilla physical therapy, he wished me good luck at the race.
This paved the way for an experience I never imagined having-running a major marathon to finish, not for a PR. I hadn't run long in five weeks due to the injury, and knew that even with conservative pacing, I could have problems. While I wouldn't wish those torn ligaments and marrow edema on anyone, the resulting Boston experience was a true gift. I got to really enjoy the course, the hang with fellow runners, the famed landmarks and fans on the course, and open arms that the whole city of Boston throws out on Marathon Monday. I took iPod videos, pictures, smiled, enjoyed, smiled, and had a very special all-out final mile when I knew the ankle would not prevent me from finishing. The icing was that it was only a few minutes slower than the year prior, and another BQ under circumstances when I thought I wouldn't run at all. The cannoli I brought Bryan hardly seemed adequate as a thank you for helping me, but I hope it was enjoyed.
From Boston, there was a month or two of pretty structureless running. I probably needed it, but this got me further off-track in the speed and discipline department. In June, I registered again for the Imogene Pass Run, the challenging, beautiful 17.1 mile trail run that is what I like to refer to as my "extra layer." I refocused on hitting NBT....Nothing But Trail. The higher the altitude, the better. I skipped out on the Bolder Boulder and other smaller 5K's locally to save money and focus on those long runs. I can't say that I ever felt like I was getting faster, but my trail confidence headed in an entirely new direction.
I did do one unique thing racing-wise in June. When our 24 Hours of Laramie team fell apart entirely after injury and illness, I decided to take the rare opportunity to race a double, completing the Children With Hope 10K on roads on a Saturday, and the Turkey Flats 10 mile trail run on Sunday. I had an age group finish at the first race, and was pleased with staying steady on tired legs the next day. And, as it was a Striders freebie race, there was food and Beer Cooler of Awesomess with friends at the finish; perhaps the best part.
Soon I was teaching my friend Loralie the ways of the POSE running, and she was getting good return on investment from the better form as well. We ran high altitude trails all over, doing Turkey Flats near Glade Park outside of Grand Junction, Crags Crest up on the Grand Mesa, and the Bear Creek Trail outside of Ouray, Colorado. Along the way, we to pictures, had fun, ate lots of good, healthy food, and had the occasional beer chillax or two. I also had the incredible experience of cheering/spectating/crewing a little at the Leadville Trail 100 for my friend Bryan, where a number of friends were there all weekend to crew and pace. Being a part of, and witnessing his amazing accomplishment was just more fuel for the mojo fire. I didn't know if sub-4 was going to happen at Imogene, but I felt confident that I could stay on my feet and run strong. There was a little tune-up race at Mary's Loop a week before Imogene, and I ran that to shake out any tension before IPR.
When it came time to go from Ouray to Telluride, I ran a nearly identical time to the year before, but it was with a controlled climb, fast descent, and nice rebound after having to walk out a late-race side stitch. We'd held a party prior to the race, making Honey Badger shirts for any Grand Junction-area runners who wanted one, and it kind of mobilized us as this fun, semi-organized group at the race. When several of our own ran to podium finishes, it was with great pride that we cheered them on to celebrate their success. It was also amazing to see the beaming faces of my first-time finisher friends Sandra and Kevin. This may not be an ultra, but it's an epic race. The elation felt at the end of this race just cannot be matched for shorter trail runs.
The rest of the year was kind of a broken record, but a favorite broken record I don't mind hearing over and over. I ran my fifth Anna Banana 5K in late September (fourth, really, since I paced my oldest daughter one year), and nearly matched my prior year's time, coming in second woman overall to Suzie, and picking off several women late in the race. I've struggled with second mile slumps in 5K's, and with general speed at the distance. I was surprised but very pleased to have success on this day at the short distance thing. It's a special race to me, as well, for the celebration of Anna's life, and those groovy ceramic bananas. It felt good to step it up on Anna's day.
I thought things were looking pretty good going into The Other Half. This race is really special to me, and I've always run it well. I'd done some good, specific training prior to race day, and felt anchored by that, and a solid Anna Banana. Pre-race weekend was very low key and mellow. I didn't sleep great, which in hindsight, had been a problem for months. Any life stress seems to come out in my sleep, and this is about the only answer I have to explain the ugly race that followed. I ran to my second worst half-marathon finish ever by time, and hands-down the worst I'd ever run without considering the time. Inexplicable nausea and fatigue overtook my race. I wanted to walk, I wanted to stop. The victory on this day was getting to the finish, and the fire it sparked to finish the year right, and finish the year strong.
He Sings The Songs That Remind Him Of The Good Times, He Sings The Songs That Remind Him Of the Best Times
The final official stops on the 2011 tour were the Rim Rock Marathon, and the Winter Sun 10K. It would be my third time at the marathon, and I realized going in that it was a great gift after The Other Half to take NOTHING for granted...not how much I love the course, or that I've run it well before, or that the weather looked pretty good for race day. Being a somewhat competitive gal (ha), I'd already been checking out the entry lists, and knew that the multiple-time defending champ would not be there. I had a real bug up my butt to win the race. I spent all my time running on the Monument, or doing hill repeats of the Serpents Trail. Some of us did the Run To Whitewater, 18 miles on trails, as a challenging tune-up long run for the marathon. I consulted with a few trusted training partners on how to best accomplish this goal. All that was left to do was show up, and execute my plan according to the training.
The race that followed was one of the most amazing, surreal experiences of my running life. It didn't hurt that this was right in my own beautiful backyard (quite literally). If I picked the one race out of all I've ever done to name as the one where I did the most right leading into the race AND on race day, this might be it. Yes, I kick myself a little bit on occasion for a three-second margin of defeat, and second place overall finish. Overwhelmingly, though, I feel joy for bouncing back from other bad races, general crap and stress, and getting my body and mind totally in the game that day. 26.2 miles coming down to an all-out sprint in the last 100 feet? What a gift to be a part of that. I also never expected all the love, positivity and support from my friends, fam, and fellow runners, though I don't know why not. They rock, and it was so neat that they didn't think I was a schmo for coming up a few seconds short of my ultimate goal.
As the year started coming to a close, an idea was hatched. It was such a great experience at Imogene to come together with other Grand Junction runners. We've got a lot of people who like to run here, who are very self-motivated, and who like to be as competitive as possible. Right before Rim Rock, a speed workout group was formed, and we began having practices weekly at a local high school track. There were four of us the first week, and things just grew from there. Runners who don't typically do track workouts or short distance started showing because they heard it was fun, and a good workout. Newer runners looking for general improvement, not necessarily hardware, started getting their feet wet. Many of us had sights on the Winter Sun 10K, and we were doing workouts that were going to pay off (hopefully) in Moab. I was also working at getting in fast downhill runs and other quality runs to make me faster on the net downhill course, and did two local 5K's with results that were some of my best in about three years. Heading down to Moab along with most of the regular Grand Junction runners, I again had thoughts of winning in my head.
Getting up on race day, it was a little breezy. Still, I had my game face on and ready to go. When I got word that Olympic Trials qualifier Megan Lund-Lizotte was there, I laughed, and shifted my strategy to seeing how long I could see her in the early stages. The race that played out was not a perfect, magical pixie dust run. I think that's what made it the perfect way to end my year. Well, no. Perfect would've been a magical pixie dust run. A "Work The Problem" kind of race with good execution, though, and not a total collapse when it gets rough, is not the worst way for things to play out. I started too fast, got passed, had to calm down, refocus, and then mount a consistent build into the finish. I wasn't close to an overall title with my fifth place finish among women, but from that rough start came a second consecutive age group win, and a sweep by ladies in our speed group of the 30-39 women.
The rest of the Junction crew (and honorary Grand Junctionite Ilana from Durango) killed it too, occupying podium slots overall and all over the age groups, and knocking out PR performances right and left. Being with this familiar, comfortable crowd, and celebrating one another's efforts-I wouldn't want to end the year any other way. Nobody's life or running is ever perfect, and there have been bumps this year for me in both regards. Sometimes it's easy to get into a funk, to get exasperated, and to not deal with these things well. I know, I've been there, done that, bought the tee shirt some days. Being a runner, though-having most of my best friends coming from this environment of working hard, having fun, and supporting one another-it is a wonderful thing. It's moving me forward into 2012 with confidence and hope.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
You Spin Me Right 'Round Baby: Speed Group Fun, and Trail Runs
I have found myself increasingly pulled by the current of work, end-of-year school, music and dance performances, a couple of "special assignments" that required my attention, and general holiday mayhem. With all that craziness, keeping to a regular running and exercise routine has been more important than ever. It's not that these events haven't been fun; to the contrary, it was fabulous to see my son and middle daughter perform instrumental solos for the first time, and I'm looking forward to a dance concert and two parties this weekend. It's just been nonstop, and getting in good running time has been crucial.
Over the past few weeks, we've been seeing our new local speed workout take off, and have recently added a new component to the workout-an optional, but highly encouraged mile time trial at the end of the workout. We did it for the first time last week, and I found myself briefly cursing an idea that was hatched with fellow runners while relaxing in a hot tub post-race in Moab a few weeks ago. There was no denying that this was a great workout, though, and a mental one as much as anything else. Running 6 x 400's can be hard enough, but knowing you're going to do a hard sustained mile effort after a brief recovery period really takes mental stamina and discipline.
Last week, I did my mile in 7:07, which wasn't bad for tired legs after a long week and good speed workout. We had eleven runners stay for the mile, and when we moved to our new location this week at the municipal Stocker Stadium track, it was pretty awesome to see that we had about 16 or 17 runners for the workout, and about ten who committed to stick around for the mile. What was exciting this time is that one of them was a brand-new runner. I can remember the intimidation of being new and feeling slow, and it was cool that this woman was going to put herself out there for a mile that would be hard for everyone at maximum effort.
After our regular warmup, drills, and intervals (this time, having enough of a pace divide to split up into two groups), I borrowed a watch from a friend, and log sheet for times from our coach/leader who had to depart early, and set up to time the mile. As I'm not fast enough to be first around to then time everyone else, and being a little sore this week, it was no biggy to skip the mile myself. I knew there would be plenty more opportunities in the future to make up for it.
Everyone got off to a rolling start, and then I just made sure I shouted out splits loud enough when the runners came around. In the end, we had runners coming in from 5:16 to 8:45, and it was a pretty cool thing to know that we were having success in beginning to draw the newer, less experienced runners. I'm pretty thankful for the folks who paid it forward with me when I was brand spanking new to running, so it just feels natural now to be welcoming and encouraging to the folks who show up for runs and races, not quite sure what they've gotten themselves into, but wanting to give it a try nonetheless.
After the mile, I cooled down (or...more like, warmed up after standing to time) with a couple of other runners, and picked the brain of one who ran a local 50-miler that seems to be calling my name. It's the Desert RATS Trailrunning Festival, and is a double-loop of the 25-mile course available on the same weekend, during which half-marathon and 5-mile trail races will be run as well. I must say that I get nervous about such a long race for a variety of reasons. When I finished the Moab RedHot 55K last year, I was SO happy to be done and wasn't sure how people ran a step further than 34 miles. Then there's that nasty ankle roll I took last year. On the other hand, I feel the need to do something bigger and longer than a road marathon or standard 30-something miler. So, it's been nice to talk to several local runners this week about it, hear their experiences, and think about how to best prepare for a hypothetical 50-mile run. I have not officially pulled the trigger, but am moving closer and closer to making the official jump up in distance. It's scary, but exciting.
In preparation for my potential long, slow trail run, I'm going to be taking advantage of time on the many beautiful and challenging trails in the greater-Grand Junction area. Yes, I said greater-Grand Junction. There are so many places to run long around here and I am getting excited to hit them up this winter, explore unfamiliar territory, and get ready to test myself next spring. There are other cities in the region that are certainly more well-known as trail running meccas. This is a sweet spot for access to great trails in all directions, both within city limits or nearby. With an already strong running community locally, it's been an added boost to know that we're mobilizing better than ever now, and hopefully creating a movement by example.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Windy With A Chance Of Nausea-The 2011 Winter Sun 10K
Every year since becoming a runner back in 2007, I've finished out the year with a cool 10K in Moab, Utah called the Winter Sun. For many years, this was a smallish affair, mostly comprised of runners from Moab and Grand Junction's running clubs with maybe a few dozen runners showing up. Over the past several years, though, this race has grown exponentially, in part because the first 100 entrants get a guaranteed entry into the Canyonlands Half Marathon, but just as much because it gives runners the chance to run a fast net downhill course. It's also the third race in the Moab Triple Crown (the Canyonlands Half and The Other Half are the other two races), and again, Triple Crown runners also earn a coveted guaranteed entry into Canyonlands.
The first time I ran the Winter Sun, I ran 48:59, finished 11th in my age group, and couldn't believe I could go that fast despite being pretty sick going into race weekend. I'd wanted to make the top-10, and finishing just off it hooked me, and lit my competitive fire. Over the next three Decembers, I worked hard to move up the ranks, finishing 5th in age group the next year, and then onto the age group podium the next two years. I was 3rd in my age group in 2009, and ended a really special fall/winter 2010 running season with an age group win, PR, and 3rd woman overall in the race. After an up-and-down 2011, I came into this race weekend as ready and well-prepared as I'd been for any race this year. I didn't know who might show up, but I did plan on racing to win in my fifth time at this race.
The week leading into the race was busy, but I got in some workouts that were good tuneups for the Winter Sun, including some hill work with a focus on downhill running, and a track night workout with a focus for our growing group on the race, which a number of us were scheduled to run. I'd already been to yoga twice during the week, and had planned on laying low Thursday and Friday with all physical activity. As it turned out, I felt the need for some serious stress relief on Thursday, and hit up another yoga class. It was good for me but afterward I did find myself kind of wishing I'd sat on my butt as planned. I was good on Friday, though, resting, and heading down to Moab in the early evening for dinner with Ilana, Kevin and Kevin's wife Nora. Kevin was injured and would not be running, but he and Nora came to Moab to cheer on the many friends they've met via running in our area. This was super cool of them, and Ilana and I were pretty excited to know we'd have friends waiting at the finish. After dinner at Eddie McStiff's, Ilana and I headed back for the rest of the Patented Karah And Ilana Pre-Race Hang®, which consists of a soak in the very hot outdoor hottub at the Gonzo Inn. It has magical pre-race mojo, I'm convinced....or is just really relaxing with the hot water and cold air. We laid out our gear, turned in for the night to rest and prepare our bodies and minds for fast running the next day.
My night of sleep was pretty decent-good enough that I woke up around 5am and couldn't fall back asleep. Ilana must've been doing about the same, because close to 6am she said "Well, I'm up!" We got dressed and I checked the weather for the first time. The temperature was great-cold, not freezing. It was kind of breezy, though, and seemed to be of the headwind variety as it related to our race route. Heading over to breakfast at the Moab Diner, I received the first of several texts from Grand Junction friends requesting point weather forecasts on the drive down. This was amusing, and I really thought my friends shouldn't trust a weather forecast from a woman who said "hey, it's not snowing after all" just seconds before the 2009 Rim Rock Marathon snow squall. I was getting excited that so many local were here or en route. After breakfast, we headed over to the high school, mingled for awhile, checked out the entry lists, and got on the first round of buses to the start.
Stepping off the bus (or, large passenger van in our case), the wind had picked up noticeably. Really? C'mon. I was not excited about this. I don't ever remember Moab being particularly windy, and I thought we'd met our wind quota for the year at Canyonlands back in March. This was going to be somewhat of a factor today. The temperature was still perfect, though. We hung out near fire barrels, chatting with other runners. Some time while we were here, I got a text from a friend informing me that Olympic Trials runner Megan Lund was entered. I kind of laughed to myself knowing that running to win this race was off the table now, texting back that I'd have to see how long I could run fast enough to keep her in my sights.
As race time drew near, Ilana and I got in some warmup time. I wasn't quite as springy as I'd felt in the prior year when I ran my 10K PR, but wasn't feeling crappy either. I wasn't too worried about it; I have never tended to be someone who feels great in warmup. We stripped off our outer layers about 15 minutes pre-race, lined up about 5 minutes pre-race, and saw that other than Megan Lund, it looked like what I call Hardworking Midpackers Delight in the womens race. There was Keith (she's a lady), a great Masters runner from GJ, Annie, a petite 20-something speedster who also teaches at the yoga studio where I've been practicing, and another woman I didn't recognize lined up near the front. The the front of the pack in the mens race was clearly going to be very fast, with no easy pick for the winner like Megan on the ladies side. Race director Ranna gave her traditional greeting to all of us, and then the countdown was on. The starting gun sounded, and off we shot.
Right away, I had a problem. I was using a newer model Garmin Forerunner with the bezel, and I am NOT a fan of it at all. I'm a simple person and liked my old-school, 1970's calculator watch Garmin 205. Sure, it's big and ugly, but I never had issues with basic functions before it decided to fry itself. Somehow, I'd touched something funny on the bezel and brought up a graph of some sort. Oh well. Guess I wouldn't have splits or time during the race today. It was just going to be one big surprise at the finish with regard to my time. After two 5K's now without a watch, it didn't throw me off one bit, and was almost a relief to know that I'd be focusing entirely on how I felt, and on racing my competitors.
Running away from the golf course start, there was already a medium sized pack of men ahead and beginning to string out, and I could see Megan up there too. I immediately charged ahead, running second woman from the start. This felt realllllly fast but I went with it. There were several men from our track group in the lead group, and they were looking strong as they forged ahead.
Coming into the second mile, I was starting to pay for that too-fast start. I was kind of nauseous, could feel my heart rate out-of-control, and naturally slowed down. If anything, I wish I had Garmin data to see my split on that first mile because I know it was much faster than I had any business going. Soon, the masters-age-looking woman I didn't recognize passed me. Next, Annie passed me. Then, Keith passed me, saying something encouraging, but I can't quite remember what it was now. I knew I had to find my reset button, settle my body back down, and find a pace I could sustain all the way through.
As we hit the one big hill on the course, Ilana was now creeping past, and looking good. Dropping four slots within a mile was not part of my plan but it was still pretty early. I kept my cool, relaxed, and shortened my stride. After getting up the big hill, I felt like I was getting myself together again. No one else had passed me, and I seemed to be pacing pretty evenly with a couple of guys. Megan was long gone, but I could see the other four ladies. I was still in this.
Hitting the halfway point on the course, I was-dare I say it-starting to feel stronger, more competitive, and less nauseous. The headwind, though, was quite noticeable. I was not digging it at all. It helped to employ a strategy I'd been taught to use recently, though, and brought my gaze down to just a few feet in front of me, focusing on running in the now, and not on down the road, or putting my face up in that wind. I saw Keith move past Annie up ahead, and I was now making up some ground on Annie. Ilana had moved past Keith and Annie but was behind the unfamiliar masters woman.
As I reached the four mile point, I felt like I was in a good rhythm, and dialing in to that sweet spot on pace where I was slightly nauseous but still able to breathe well and turn the legs over quickly. I was really close to Annie now, and eventually caught up with her, running side by side for a bit. I said "let's hold off the other ladies back there!" and a minute or two later, I started inching ahead. I was getting pretty close to Keith now. Turning off the main road and into a residential neighborhood, I flew ahead, trying to catch her, and any other runners I could pass. We ran the road for a bit, and then made the awkward zig-zag around this funny gate at the beginning of the bike path portion of the course. I'd always felt clumsy here, but I think the track workouts and running into turns helped a bit this time, as I didn't feel as if I was going to hit the gate or stumble.
This last section of the course is not so much physical to me as it is an exercise in mental fortitude and stick-to-it-ness. For some reason, there are always people who start dropping like flies on the bike path and in the final stretch before the infamous track lap. It's slightly downhill, so it can be a great opportunity to pour it on and get some help from gravity near the finish. I reached the Taiko drummers, and got a real bump out of the festive atmosphere there. The drummers are a staple at The Other Half and Canyonlands, but had not appeared on the residential neighborhood course until about two years ago when we were pleasantly surprised by three or four drummers. This year, it seemed to be the entire Taiko Dan with a ton of kids and families there as well. I flew threw the party scene, determined to do as much passing as possible in the home stretch. I could see Ilana ahead, crossing the bridge, and saw her look to see who else was coming. Keith was just ahead of me, and when she turned on the bridge too, it was clear she didn't know I was back there. She started pushing harder, and I started pushing harder to stay with her.
The bike path made its final turn underneath a bridge/through a little tunnel, and then climbed up to the sidewalk. Soon, we were on the final stretch, coming down the road to enter the track for our final lap. I'd never turned around to see where Annie was, and wasn't about to now. I also didn't know if any other runners were sneaking up on me, and just laid it all out there. Keith was flying now and I wasn't going to get her today. I entered the track and saw Nora, who hollered and cheered for me. Tucking the head, I rounded the corner and pushed as hard as I thought I could go. I saw another friend from track group/track night at half a lap to go, and he yelled "Push, push, PUSH!" at me. Somehow I found one more gear and cranked it up some more. I wanted to hurl but I was SO close, and kept going at this pace.
Turning the last corner for home, I got my first look at the time clock. It was not going to be a PR at all, but I was cruising to what would be my second fastest of five runs at the Winter Sun. I could also see that I was not going to be caught by anyone at the finish, and had held on to that fifth female slot for more than four miles after that too-fast start, and brief fade in the second mile. I didn't let up and hammered through the finish, crossing with a finish time of 43:33. Yes, A PR or something close to it would have felt best, but the rebound after the shaky second mile and momentum build for the rest of the race felt great.
When results came out, I learned that I had indeed finished 1st out of 78 runners the 30-39 women, and 5th out of 342 women overall, marking my second age group win at this race. It wound up being an awesome day on the podium for Grand Junction runners, and runners from our track group in particular. The 30-39 women's podium was a track night sweep, with my friend and Dirty Girl relay teammate Shannon coming in second (I embarrassed her by yelling "Dirty Girl" loudly as she was collecting her medal), and group runner Michelle just behind her. The overall title went to another one of our group newcomers, Jake, and our head cat wrangler at track night and two-time Winter Sun winner Marty took the male Masters title. Shannon's husband Kevin, a Leadville 100 finisher, was fourth man overall and winner of his age group. Keith, Annie, and Ilana (the "Durango Interloper") all won their age groups, and local runner/track grouper Ben also nabbed hardware in the 20-something men. There were also strong finishes and PR efforts from many other locals, and it was just very cool to see all the smiling faces and camaradie in the finish area. Keith joked with me about how "Yeah, you went out way too fast" and how she didn't know she had anyone behind her until that last turnaround. Then there was runner friend Ray declaring that next year, we'd all have to show up at the finish area wearing Snuggies. I'm not too sure about that last idea; at least I've got a year to think about it.
Clockwise from center: Keith (in lime jacket), Me, Shannon, Julie (who placed in women 40-49), Ilana, and Loralie (my frequent high altitude training partner over the summer)
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Hope's A Funny Thing-It Shines Like A Ring: Turkey Trotting And Speed Working
Firefighters over the starting area of the GJ Firemans Turkey Trot
Photo by Me
I have to admit to being rather unmotivated to blog this week; or, more accurately, so busy with other stuff that I've not wanted to do much of anything when down time finally came to me. Good things have been happening, though, so they're worth sharing.
First of all, this new weekly speed work group we started about a month ago is REALLY taking off, from four of us the first week to ten the day before Thanksgiving, and twelve yesterday. It's not just straight-up speed work; we do a warmup, some drills and exercises for strength training and injury prevention, intervals (of course) where we already seem to be pairing and grouping off with other similarly paced runners, and cooldown. Interestingly enough, three of the four workouts have come before races for me, but we're learning how to modify the speed work pre-race so that it loosens us up and gets us ready to go rather than taxing or exhausting the body. I wasn't sure if I should go last week, since I decided late to do our local Turkey Trot the next day. Our fearless leader assured me it was a good thing if I ran my 400m intervals at around 70-80% effort for the first 300 meters, opening up to race pace in the last 100 meters. When I went to bed that night I did feel a little tired, but I think this was more to do with two races and a bunch of speed work less than two weeks after a marathon. The Turkey Trot was not some huge target race of mine, so it was a great time to experiment with racing a little tired, but with high hopes and confidence for a good race based on my recent running.
I showed up about an hour early for the Turkey Trot, which I figured would be plenty of time to pre-register. It was, but I learned that unfortunately, they only had 900 timing chips and already had more than 900 runners registered. The good news here was that they'd lowered the race day registration to cost to $15 to make up for this. I wondered, though, how they were going to record times for those of us who were unchipped.
I warmed up on the riverfront trail pre-race, and just tried to keep it about going through the motions with good form. I didn't want to overthink and remind myself that my legs were a little tired-I just wanted to get out there and run as fast as I could. To that end, I'd ditched the Garmin again, as I did previously at the Holy Family 5K. I was just going to run fast and hard, and have no idea my actual pace.
When it was time to line up, there were all the usual local speedy people out there, as well as what appeared to be some non-local speedy people in to visit family and friends, and whup up the locals. There were actually close to 1200 people toeing the line today-an amazing number in a city with a population somewhere around 46,000. It's great to see so many people-from competitive local and regional runners to recreational walkers-out to start the day off right, and support several local firefighter charitable groups. Soon we counted down and took off.
What's that rule about 5K races? Oh, yeah. They HURT. BAD. Today was no different, but on the upside, nothing seemed to be hurting me above and beyond the normal pain threshold for short distance. It was a little cold, and my lungs were struggling a bit to adjust at first, but I soon settled in. There was a good handful of women who were off and gone; there were a few others of us who paced kind of near one another in the first mile. Considering that I was 12 days post-marathon, this was a pretty decent run on tired legs thus far. I focused on a high cadence and running with good form, and tried to ignore the small mile marker on the ground at the end of mile one. I didn't want any outside influences other than me pushing and keeping up my own pace; I didn't want to let in any chance of a second mile sag.
Heading down the road and turning toward the Connected Lakes, I managed to pass a guy or two, but also had two local women pass me-with dogs. They are speedy gals, and I tried to pick it up but they were picking up more. Running down to the turnaround, it was so uncomfortable to have to corner the orange cone quickly. I boomeranged around it and got my first look at how close any other women might be to me. I saw two less than 30 seconds back from me, and knew they were good runners who could pick it up anytime. If I'd had any thoughts pre-race of this maybe being a fun run where I let myself coast, they were gone now and I was in full racing mode.
Hitting the second mile marker, I was pleased that although I knew how far into the race I was, I hadn't obsessed about the long second mile, nor did I feel like I'd dropped off any. I was running now on the paved riverfront trail, which curves, twists, and has a number of uneven spots and little bumps. It's a real workout late in a 5K on what had been fairly smooth and flat surfaces until now. I was bound and determined to really hammer through and finish strong, and not sag off or get clipped at the finish. There was a little bit of leapfrogging with various men running about my pace, but there had been no passing or being passed by women since before the second mile ended. Coming toward the finish, I could see the balloon arch and time clock, and got a look at the time...clicking off in the 21:xx range! This was going to be another good 5K finish for me, and I surged ahead with a little bit of a third wind. I crossed the finish in 21:44, and moved through the chute, happy to be finished.
Moving past the finish chute, I saw Ali come in (one of two ladies not far behind), and we hung out and talked, soon joined by another one of her friends. Looking over my shoulder at one point, I saw that our track group leader dude was talking to a reporter from a local TV station, so I knew at that point that he must've won-sweet! I learned later that he did, but it was by the most razor thin of margins, with the #1 and #2 men shoulder-to-shoulder coming into the finish. Still, a win is a win. For my part, I did not have an official time logged but Bryan, physical therapist extraordinaire and host of the race at his PT offices allowed me to go talk to the timers to have my time recorded. With the time clock, I was able to report the exact time I'd crossed the timing pad, backed up with my self-reported time being a few seconds behind a local runner I could identify as finishing just ahead of me. So, that was cool that I was able to log an official result even without the bib.
When the results were published online, I could see that it was a fast race at the front. I was 10th out of 467 women overall, with three women running 19:00 and under, and four more running under 21 minutes. I was 2nd out of 120 in age group, so all in all, I was very happy with my result. The speed work, racing, and practicing good form when tired worked out. I know I didn't just go out there and hope I'd do well-I'd been working hard and working SMART at training for goal races on my schedule-but having self-confidence, hoping, and expecting to do well did pay off.
This week, I again focused on smart training. I did a comfortably paced but still very challenging run on Serpents Trail, an area trail with 1.75 miles of climbing, 900 feet up, and then descent back to the trailhead. There was also a good hour of running early morning running on neighborhood streets, a downhill speed workout in a neighborhood that provides good practice for the Winter Sun 10K, and speed work night again yesterday. I'm feeling a little fatigued, but nothing that won't be all rested away by Saturday. I've also been to hot power yoga twice this week, and am finding that it is making me stronger, recovering me from hard workouts faster, and allowing me to really become tougher with workouts in extreme temperatures. The practice is at 98 degrees, and it killed me in the beginning, but a few months in I'm finding that it's a great supplement to running.
Tomorrow's the big day to hit the road for Moab for my 5th run at the Winter Sun 10K. Other than still being 7-8 pounds up from last year, I find myself as confident, strong and hopeful as I've been for a race. After just talking about how I need more speed work for some time, I'm actually doing it now, and am beginning to see results from it already. The strategic downhill workouts should also be very helpful for race day. I hear the race day weather forecast is getting crappier by the moment, but really am not putting much stock into it right now, or deciding in advance that I can't have a good race. Hope's definitely a funny thing....that, coupled with trusting my training, and being mentally tough when it gets hard, could have me on a road that I believe can bring me to a podium finish in Moab this weekend. If that doesn't work, maybe a pre-race margarita and soak in the Gonzo Inn outdoor hot tub will do the trick.
(The song that inspired this week's blog post by Denver's own Paper Bird)
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