Up & Running

I really appreciate the helpful advice folks - and the evidence that I have some blog readers! Last night I made the executive decision that my chest had sufficiently cleared up enough for me to run home from work. Actually, that's a lie. I just couldn't handle resting for more than 2 days in a row, so I reckoned it was a risk I was prepared to take. My health does not seem to have suffered any. In fact, I may even be a wee bit better =)

There's no high quite like the one I experience when I have fresh legs and I'm in the home stretch of that route. I feel like I'm flying down the 59th Street Bridge slope heading east into Queens. It's cliché, but I definitely get a strong sense of 'freedom' that I don't get any place else. It's good to be back.

The World Is Against Me

I'm falling to pieces. I now have what feels like a bit of a chest infection and a really, really, annoying phleghmy cough. I haven't been this sick in about 2 years. I usually pride myself on my ox-like constitution. So I didn't run yesterday, and I don't think I'm going to run tonight. Am I doing the right thing? Or should I just 'run through it'? I wonder what the general rule of thumb is for sickness and running?

Moan, whine, moan...

I have complete buy-in from my psyche, my soul and 95% of my physical being, to my higher-frequency, higher-mileage Grand Plan. My left knee however, is apparently lacking in team spirit, and refuses to cooperate. This area has given me no end of trouble in the past, but I thought that's where it was - the past. So now I'm a little worried.

Oh well, at least the FRNY Gay Pride race went well this morning...oh no, that's right, it didn't...
I'm not sure what I should be expecting at this stage of my game, but 1.5 minutes slower than PR for a 5 miler aint it. My 4th mile split was 7:55!!! What in the heck is that all about? I just took a look at my diary for earlier in the year and see that I had a bit of a rash of PRs - four to be precise - over just 3 months. For a 5K, a 10K, a half and the marathon. I know that I'm still hanging on unrealistically to the expectations that period set up in my mind. And I know I should just chill out, be patient, and focus on the hard work that is the background to any race triumph. But it's still somewhat of a morale-killer to think I might have peaked already!

Anyhoo, on the other end of the spectrum lies my best running buddy and clubmate Suzanne "The Tank" Hughes. Suzanne appears to riding an exponential curve of improvement lately, having rebounded from a tremendous performance in Boston as if it was just a stroll in the park. I don't think she's come away empty handed from any race since, this morning being no exception (& that was a hell of an award - one year's membership to Crunch!). I'm very excited and happy to see my pal do so well - there's nobody who deserves it more.

Clarity

This past weekend was an important one for a number of people in my life, not least my mum and stepdad, who completed their sixth and eighth consecutive Highland Cross races, respectively. This is an invitational-only duathlon which, as the name suggests, has its 660 participants traversing grueling Scottish mountainous terrain, often while battling seemingly unseasonable inclement conditions.

Despite walking the pedestrian portion for the first time ever – a precautionary measure after Scott ruptured his patellar tendon in an accident just 11 months ago - they both completed the 20-mile walk/30-mile bike race in a phenomenal 6:31:26. I urged Scott to send his doctors and PTs a “how do you like THEM apples?!” letter, since he was originally told, somewhat naïvely, that he would never recover 100%.

Meanwhile, just as their epic journey was drawing to a close, about 4000 miles away my new hero and fellow blogger, Chelle was just setting out on one of her own. She ran Grandma's Marathon in Deluth, Minnesota in a mind-boggling sub-7-minute average pace.

It’s really humbling to know personally such harworking and talented athletes. But what impresses me most is their dogged determination and tenacity. That's what really gets people places.

As for me, my week of rest seems to have worked a treat. It feels like somebody finally walked in the classroom and cleaned the blackboard. The confusing fragmented mess of old lessons has been wiped away, leaving just the one big assignment clearly visible in front of me.

Thus far in my limited running career, I’ve definitely taken a quality-over-quantity approach to training, which has served me well enough. But now I’m curious to see what comes from employing the opposite tack. With a couple of solid years running under my belt, I think it’s time to ramp up the mileage, albeit at the expense of the occasional rest day or speed workout. I'll be sensible of course, but didn't somebody once say that "quantity has a quality all of its own"?

So, I’m faced with 16 weeks of intense (by my standards) training while maintaining a great marriage, a great social life, and a gr-, well…erm…let’s just say – a full-time job. It would also be nice to keep up with the cross training, spend time with our influx of domestic and overseas guests, sample at least some of the varied and wonderful summer NYC events, keep on top of whatever the heck is going on in this world, and lastly/leastly try to maintain some semblance of a sanitary-if-not-exactly-tidy apartment. Wish my body didn’t seem to desperately need those 8 hours of sleep a night!

Such is the life of those training for marathons everywhere I suppose, – a constant battle of priorities. But of course, like every one of them, I wouldn't have it any other way =)

Retreat & Regroup

Pride comes before a fall and all those clichés ...
In keeping with my recent over-racing streak, I ran the Mini 10K on Saturday. I finished in a frustrating, but unsurprising 'PW' time. Even with hindsight though, I don't think I would have missed being right up front on that start line (a local club privilege) tucked in just behind some of the world's best, including Lornah Kiplagat - the ultimate winner.

My performance, however, coupled with the 'omg-I-can't-believe-my-own-stupidity' sunburn I received on the backs of my legs from a beach trip Sunday, signify that it's time to make a sensible decision.

My mum, who remains the most accomplished runner I know personally (& it's quite an understatement to say I know a few) is also the wisest. She advised me some weeks ago to take a complete break before embarking upon Chicago marathon training. For physical reasons, but far more importantly - psychological reasons - she believes investing in a week of inactivity will pay huge dividends.

The irony is though, that I feel more fired up about running at this very moment than I ever have. The thought of stopping now seems counter-intuitive. But mum assures me that this is the perfect time to rest - when desire and passion abound. A common mistake apparently made is runners pushing on - driven by successes, taking their health and speed for granted - only for injury or mental fatigue to set in shortly thereafter.

So, the pool will be more familiar to me this week than is the norm, and I will wait for the weekend before taking my first steps on the road to Chicago. And you know what? That's fine. This training period deserves to be marked and separated somehow, then given my full attention and respect. It may be my last marathon for some years, and I plan to give it my absolute all. October 9th 2005 is the day I hope to learn for myself my true capabilities.

Lead Story

I've been waiting some weeks now for a bolt of inspiration so I can get this running-focused blog started. Last Sunday it finally struck - in the form of my first (& probably last) open win in a race.

So yes, it seemed the usual-suspect local elites chose a day at the beach over a hot and hilly 10K - as I so nearly did myself - leaving just about 60 women for me to beat. And yes, it transpires that my winning time was, by a loooooooong way, the slowest in VCTC Riverdale Ramble history, but hey - a win's a win, right?

I'd long before declared this race my favourite, after doing it last year in the pouring rain. The lush green tree lined streets; the hills (I know I'm a masochist) make it really fun and different. A refreshing change from the usual Queens' streets or Central Park loop.

After scanning the competition at the start line, I turned to my Hellgate club VP, friend and runner-extraordinaire Luanne, and inquired as to the whereabouts of "all the fast women?" to which she replied, "I think we're it!" Not really news I welcomed, as I'd already decided that the week's exertions, including a tempo 9-miler the prior morning, the excessive heat, and the fact I’ve been over-racing since the Boston marathon, meant I planned for once in my life to take it easy somewhere in the middle of the pack.

It looked like I was getting my way, when during the first mile - all uphill - two women sprinted away - and were very quickly out of sight. I wrote them off as uncatchable 6-something-minute milers. I relaxed, and appreciated the considerate "good work 3rd lady" shouts from intermittent spectators and race marshals. Turns out my 'strategy' of taking it easy over those first couple of miles worked in my favour, as when I turned a corner to face the insane gradient of ‘wave’ hill, there they both were – just feet ahead of me. I grabbed the opportunity and scooted past them.

And there I was. Whoops. Me - in pole position! Uncharted territory. An unprecedented occurrence. As all this came as a great surprise to me, I wasn’t expecting, nor was I prepared for, my psychological reaction to it. I was stressed out! First place. Now I was really worried about where and when I’d inevitably be passed. But I couldn’t let someone pass me now – that would crush my spirit! It would also make a mockery of my arrogant overtaking. Being in front, you are at the obvious disadvantage of not having a clue what’s going on behind you. You can’t waste energy looking back too often. More disturbing though, was the fleeting feeling that I didn’t belong upfront. I momentarily considered easing up and dropping back into the altogether more comfortable position of second place. I just didn’t deserve or belong at the head of any race! Daft, I know. These were all minimally felt emotions of course – given the relative triviality of the situation – but they were emotions felt nonetheless. I immediately started thinking of professional athletes. Of how mental the world of elite running – any sport - must be. In fact, let me generalize to any endeavour while I’m at it. It’s as much about attitude as it is talent. Patently I’m not the first to reflect upon the connection between confidence and performance, but experiencing it firsthand was certainly an eye-opener.

Rambling on...
After I recovered from my transient shock and shook off the ridiculous negativity, I settled into my stride and relaxed a little. I enjoyed the increasingly enthusiastic “well done 1st lady” yells, and mused on how irritating it might have been for the handful of men being ignored around me. Rounding into the last 800m or so, I took my first ungraceful glance over the (wrong) shoulder, and saw the "2nd lady" drawing alarmingly close. Fortunately, I had some oomph left in my legs and I took off, to the encouraging shouts of “THINK TRACK, THINK TRACK!” from Jared – our wonderful Hellgate coach.

Breaking the tape was an amusing and memorable experience. I think it may be the one and only time I completely forgot to stop my watch. That I was immediately collared for interviews by both News12 and The Riverdale Press did nothing to dampen my elation. An extra layer of icing was added with Luanne’s 3rd place age award, and our women’s team top placing!

In retrospect, perhaps starting my blog this way wasn’t the brightest idea. After all, there’s only one direction to go from the top, right? Well, it’s a good thing I care more about PRs than position or awards, isn’t it?..... Or do I? Now there’s a whole other topic for a future blog entry methinks =)