|November 13, 2014||Posted by Lauren under Running|
I have been terrible about race recaps. Unfortunate, since those are the most fun to write (and read!). And since this is supposed to be a running blog, you’d think I’d be jumping at the opportunity for “content.” Although my erratic blogging is a topic for another day, I suppose it’s not really a coincidence that of the last 4 races I’ve run, the only one that made it to the blog was the 5K where I ran a PR. Maybe I’m vainer than I’d like to admit.
So here we are, over 2 weeks later, in the midst of other awesome marathon recaps and post-NYCM excitement, and I am about to babble on about a race where I well enough — not bad but certainly not a groundbreaking performance. Aren’t you excited?
The CHaD Hero race weekend is a fundraiser for Dartmouth Children’s Hospital. The Half Marathon was only one of three events that day and the entire atmosphere was of one big party. The course is well organized, there is good support (from bands, performers and crowds), the post-race feast is delicious and plentiful, and it’s truly an inspiring event to be a part of. Trust me, that’s not a word I use lightly. There were huge teams running in honor/memory of someone. Looking around at all the shirts with faces on the back at the starting line was incredibly moving.
And if all that was not enough to make we want to make this race a yearly tradition, the start is only about 3 miles from my house. You can’t ask for a more super relaxing and easy race morning than that!
So while I loved being a part of the weekend, I won’t say it’s because of the course itself. This is a certified half marathon course and I know…the course is the course is the course. But it felt long. And it was harder than expected (no excuse for this really. See “race was basically in my town.”) All the turns and the weaving around people in the beginning made it hard to run the tangents, and the very hilly last 3 miles seemed to drag on forever. From the beginning, my watch was 0.1 miles ahead of the official mile marker and that gap only grew throughout the race (finished at 13.3), despite my constant wish for things to even out.
I am ashamed to admit this now, but I was a slave to that stupid watch, completely unable to trust my body to tell me how fast to run. So the fact that it was beeping for the mile well before I could see the official marker really got into my head. Which is why, even though I ran a smart, strong race — never bonked or hit the wall, never felt like I hadn’t trained enough or had that moment when I swore off running for good – why I was left feeling a little disappointed. Not so much about my time as about my attitude.
How’s that for an uplifting introduction? As ashamed as I am that I let something as trivial as my Garmin splits throw me off for a race, it’s all a part of this comeback journey, right? Part of learning how to race again, learning to trust my body, and remember what it’s like to truly run by effort and know when to push.
So let’s get on to the actual race, shall we?
The half marathon didn’t actually start until noon on Sunday, which made fueling a bit tricky. Evan and I woke up early (babies don’t sleep in on the weekends), had a couple eggs and a piece of toast, and just sort of milled around with my parents for a few hours. All those things that I would have done the night before – finalizing my race outfit, making sure the Garmin and iPod (my other annoyance during the race – more about that later) were charged – I had put off until that morning since I had plenty of time.
Around 10:30 I figured I better eat something else, so I rushed down a piece of toast with almond butter, banana and honey. Standard race breakfast. I chugged more Nuun, nursed Amelia and finally around 11:15 or so, headed to the start. In hindsight, we probably could have waited until 11:55 to drive over, but the nerves got the best of me. My dad dropped Evan and I off right in front of the town green and we burned off some nervous energy by jogging around and using the portapotties a few times. Finally it was time to line up. The announcer had us recite the CHaD Hero oath (which included not complaining about the course…oops) and we were off!
The 5K and Half Marathon started together, making it hard not to get caught up in the surge of people at the start. Combine that with the slight downhill for the first two miles and my conservative plan to go out around 7:20-7:25, settle in and then drop the pace down from there (goal: 7:15s) was completely out the window. But I felt good and strong, so we went with it.
Somewhere around mile 2.5 or so…awesome form, LBC. Note the guy in sunglasses and bright orange shirt. He was an official pacer. This is important.
The first 3 miles weaved through Downtown Hanover before we heading over the Connecticut River and into Vermont. Those first two miles ticked off fast (7:07, 7:02). I knew my official splits were a little slower, but I still felt like I was moving at a decent clip — at least until the 7:30/mile pacer whizzed by us just before mile 3. Evan and I looked at each other in disbelief, and immediately I started to panic. Was I going that much slower than I even realized?
No sooner did Mr. 7:30 pacer pass us, but we saw my parents waiting with Amelia at the top of our first (only) really long descent. I wanted to yell — don’t be nervous! I swear we aren’t running 7:30s! But they didn’t care. They were so excited to see us, so excited to show Amelia her parents, that I’m not even sure they noticed we were even behind him. My mom bounced Amelia up and down, and she waved at us with the biggest grin on her face. It was all I could do to not stop and scoop her up.
Seeing them helped me forget about pacing for a little while. We were entering my favorite part of the course – the Vermont section. Back on familiar roads where I did many long runs over the summer. The temperature was perfect, my legs were feeling warmed up and I just felt settled into a pace, trying to hold myself back because the numbers on the watch were making me nervous. I didn’t really notice the gradual uphill during these miles. It just felt good to be running.
We gradually started gaining on the 7:30 pacer and the girl that was running with him (who seemed to be his biology study buddy?? Totally what I talk about when I’m racing too…). We had just pulled up alongside them when a man who was watching from the sidelines pointed to her and then to me, saying “6th woman, 7th woman!”
From that moment, it was on. Because, you know, getting 6th place in a race was exactly what I had been shooting for all along! My first reaction was to turn to Evan and say, “I wish he didn’t say that.” The competitive juices had started flowing and I couldn’t stop them. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to be competitive. Wasn’t sure this girl even considered me her competition. But it didn’t matter. Whoever she was or whatever her goal for the day might have been, there was no way I was going to let her beat me. So without even really thinking about it, I picked up the pace just a notch and inched ahead of her and that annoying pacer.
Don’t be jealous of my awesome race day outfit matching skills. Orange and pink are the new “it” colors for the season. Trust me on this one.
For the next couple of miles, Evan and I ran side by side without saying much – except to remark on how annoying it was that the mile markers seemed to be getting further and further apart (I know, I know). When we turned to head back into the center of Norwich, he told me he felt like we were going too fast and was afraid he was going to blow up. I told him I just wanted to make it to the hill after mile 9. I knew that would slow us down, so the entire race I had just been focused on making it to that spot. If I could keep a consistent and steady pace until then, it didn’t matter what happened in those final miles.
New favorite race picture of all time! Feeling as strong and steady as I looked at mile 8.
We ran down along the Connecticut river, rounded the corner back across the bridge, and suddenly my family was there again. Waving and cheering and smiling! It was awesome and the perfect boost before the climbing began. I turned the corner to go up the hill and felt a little pep in my step. Trying to focus on one step at a time, I envisioned myself powering up the hill like a locomotive.
In reality it wasn’t quite that powerful or smooth. But at least the effort felt steady. And that is where I lost Evan. I briefly debated slowing down and waiting for him. Despite my warnings before the race that I wouldn’t, I hated not having him by my side. I thought if only I could get him to catch up with me again, he would be able to pace off of me the rest of the way.
In the end I just kept running. I was too afraid to break my own momentum…and half-convinced he was right behind me.
At mile 10, we reached the cruelest part of the course. After a mile of climbing, you run back through Hanover, across the main green and right past the finish line. There were people finishing and I still had 3 more miles to go. Awesome.
Debating if anyone would notice me making a u-turn to the finish
The fun just kept on coming. We climbed another steep hill that I didn’t know existed before the race. I had told myself the hill a mile before was all that I had to make it through – this one felt even worse! We turned a corner into a residential neighborhood and it seemed to keep climbing. I willed my legs to move forward, but they just didn’t have any speed in them. I kept wondering if I should take the gel I stashed in my shorts just in case, but since I hadn’t trained with them and haven’t taken a gel since, I don’t know? 2012? I ultimately decided not to. Just kept powering along, telling myself that with all this climbing it HAD to be downhill to the finish.
I was wrong. The elevation profile will tell you that there were, in fact, some downhill stretches in the last 3 miles. I didn’t notice them. Somehow it seemed like an endless climb. And my legs just had no speed. No power. I wasn’t spent or ready to puke, but I still couldn’t push any faster. Or maybe I had given up. By this point I had stopped looking at my watch, discouraged when I realized at mile 10 that I was going to finish more than a minute slower than what I had calculated. Any rational person probably would have turned off autolap and manually lapped their watch at the mile markers, or at least turned the screen to simply show the time of day or something, anything to get over the inaccuracies. But I wasn’t thinking rationally. I was just pissed – pissed that my watch wasn’t lining up with the course, pissed that I was pacing according to my watch and not the course in the first place, and pissed that I had let something so silly get into my head so much…especially for a race that I wasn’t going to PR anyway.
Demonstrating more awesome running form
Finally we headed back through campus and I knew the finish line had to be close. I tried to pick up the pace and someone remarked that I was “making it look too easy” but it didn’t feel easy. My brain was not communicating with my legs the way that I wanted to. I felt weird and disconnected. Like that pain place I used to know how to get to (and through) no longer existed for me. So I continued my steady run right across the finish line.
If you look really closely, you can see a man in a tan jacket and tan hat on the lefthand side of the photo, standing out into the course a little. That would be my Dad — my Mom is the little speck of blonde hair behind him. They both were amazing cheerleaders AND babysitters. We couldn’t have done the race without them!
Also, today is my Dad’s birthday, in case you want to send him a note.
And immediately felt guilty. I didn’t see Evan. I was annoyed at myself for being so annoyed during the race, and upset with myself for leaving Evan — and all for what? For a moment, my attitude went from bad to worse, and suddenly the strong, relatively even paced race I had just run became this complete failure in every way. Talk about dramatic. (I am not proud, I will admit. And yes, I can now see how ridiculous I was about the whole thing.) I stood there, scanning the crowd, hoping that each person I saw would be Evan nearing the finish line. Finally, 4 minutes later he came in, happy and proud of his effort, while I blubbered like a baby and apologized for something he never asked me to do.
So my race day mental game and focus? Needs some work. The endurance is there, the strength is there, even the building blocks for that mental focus are there. I had my iPod on me the entire time in case I needed it, but I never even wanted it. For the first time in any distance race, I preferred the silence of my footsteps and thoughts over music. Instead it just became another annoyance as I tried to keep the stupid cords from bouncing around by wrapping them into my sports bra.
In spite of everything, I still managed to place 2nd in my age group, and was somehow able to hold onto that overall female finish spot (and the first place girl in my AG actually finished 3rd overall, but they awarded her both prizes, so…).
Finish: 1:36:04 (7:20 pace); 46th overall, 7th woman (my friend at mile 5 must’ve counted wrong because no female passed me after I thought I was in 6th), and 2/141 AG
Just because I found it interesting: 5 of the 6 women ahead of me were under 25 – talk about a group of fast, young women (thinking the Dartmouth track and cross country teams must have been well represented here)! Only 3 of the ladies in the top 10 were in their 30s…it’s not every day I feel like the old lady of the group.
For my prize, I won this super cool, exclusive cup that Amelia immediately claimed. I figured she earned it more than I did for being such a trooper the entire day. She missed her afternoon nap to sit outside and wait in the damp cold. And didn’t complain once. That’s worthy of a gold star in my book.
Here’s how the splits broke down. Keep in mind that these don’t add up to my overall official pace
|Mile 1 – 7:07||Down|
|Mile 2 – 7:02||Down|
|Mile 3 – 7:10||Up|
|Mile 4 – 7:02||Down|
|Mile 5 – 7:16||Up|
|Mile 6 – 7:10||Up|
|Mile 7 – 7:03||Down|
|Mile 8 – 7:04||Down|
|Mile 9 – 7:31||Up|
|Mile 10 – 7:36||Up|
|Mile 11 – 7:38||Up|
|Mile 12 – 7:09||
|Mile 13 – 7:17||Up|
|Last 0.3 – 6:43 pace||The only flat section!|
|Garmin: 13.3 miles in 1:36:06 (7:14 pace)|
|Official: 13.1 miles in 1:36:04 (7:20 pace)|
And the elevation profile. The entire course was rolling – not sure there was any section besides that final stretch that you could consider “flat.”
So there you have it. A tale of how a crummy attitude can ruin an otherwise good race. Overall I really loved being able to run most of the half with Evan, and it has lit the fire for speed. I know I can run faster. I know I have another gear. I just need to remember how to access it.
Not sure what’s next for me. But I know it’s going to include speedwork.
|October 24, 2014||Posted by Lauren under Running|
It’s been awhile since I’ve written one of these.
Sunday is technically my “goal” race. The one I have been training for all season.
Please note that I use the word training lightly here, since I wouldn’t say it’s been particularly strict or intense. But I have been running. There was a “cycle.” I built up my mileage and I tried to stay consistent. There wasn’t exactly any speed work, but I occasionally ran fast and did a few short races to work on speed. And I’ve even seen a little improvement. My endurance has gotten better, my paces have dropped. I think I am a stronger runner now than I was in June.
But I am not where I want to be – where I hoped I’d be way back when I was plotting my comeback. I’ve come to peace with this and I honestly have no regrets about the way my training went down. Just stating a fact.
So when it comes to setting goals for Sunday, I am sort of at a loss. I can look at projected time calculators and obsess over pacing all I want, but when it comes down to it, I still don’t really trust what my body can do. Racing still feels like unfamiliar territory – that confidence I used to feel on a starting line has not quite returned.
But I also would be lying if I said I had no goals whatsoever. That I would be happy just to finish this half marathon. I did that back in April. This time, I want more.
This is what I do know:
A. I want to race this thing. Whatever that means for Sunday, I want to go into the half marathon ready to run “competitively” (with myself) and know that I ran as fast as I could on that day.
B. I would like to run faster than I did during my first postpartum half back in April (<1:48:28). I think (hope) I’ve got this one in the bag, but you know…anything can happen.
C. Ideally I want to see a 1:3X on that clock when I cross the line. I realize this is a very big range (anywhere from 7:33 to 6:51 pace), but I will not be quite as happy with anything over 1:40. There, I said it.
D. While I would love to PR (<1:33:07), I know I am not in that kind of shape. The unrealistic side of me focuses on the fact that my PR half was run on a snowy day in the middle of marathon training when I was battling a really awful chest cold. I would like to think I could (theoretically–someday) run faster. But my sane, practical side knows that even sick Lauren from 2011 was faster than I am now.
So where does that leave me? Doing a whole lot of babbling over a whole lot of nothing, you could say.
Given how my runs have gone over the past few months, I think a 1:35 is probably a realistically challenging goal. If I can hold a 7:15 pace for 13.1 miles, I will be more than happy. I guess we will see how it goes!
Evan will be running with me, so the other part of my goal of course is to not let him beat me. At our last race (which I promise to recap soon only because it was awesome), I chased Evan the entire way. Finally caught him in the last 0.5 mile, passed him and thought I really opened up the lead in the final stretch. So imagine my surprise when I crossed the finish line and suddenly saw a flash of his bouncy dark hair right next to me. The jerk leaned across the line for the tie. And since E comes before L in the alphabet, he is now listed first in the results for all of eternity.
At least we have documentation of our “photo finish.” So I will leave you with that, and let you be the judge…
Back soon with race recaps! Best of luck to everyone racing this weekend!
|October 9, 2014||Posted by Lauren under LifeontheRun|
Recently Amelia and I hit a pretty big milestone. 40 weeks. Exactly the same amount of time spent on earth as she did growing on the inside…or at least according to our best estimates. Somehow this 40 weeks seems to have gone by twice as fast as the former. During pregnancy, all I wanted was for time to speed up. Now I just need it to stop.
As I’m sure you can imagine, I’ve done a lot of reflecting over these past 9 months. On pregnancy. Motherhood. Life with an infant. Running. Working. You name it, I’ve mulled over it. And now that 9 months have gone by, it seems like a good time to share some of these reflections. To wrap up this phase of life and look forward to the next one. Not that things are really changing anytime soon, but you know.
So here are a few of those reflections. Most of these are things I would tell myself if I could go back. I realize that not all of this is true for every person, but they (obviously) reflect my experience.
No matter how slowly it seems to crawl by at times, pregnancy does eventually end. It certainly doesn’t seem like it when you’re 36 weeks, achey, struggling with insomnia and heartburn, not fitting into any of your clothes and so exhausted walking up a flight of stairs leaves you winded. But I promise, it will be over before you know it. One day you will look back and the whole ordeal will feel like a lifetime ago. Something that happened to someone else; an out-of-body experience. And you will find yourself thinking “I guess 40 weeks isn’t that long…” I suppose this is how women are tricked into having more than one child.
So don’t rush it. Don’t rush the time when it’s just you and your partner. When date nights or spontaneous getaways are easy. When you can sleep all day if you want to…or stay up all night and not have to worry about functioning the next day. When it’s easy to get out for a run or do a race or even clean your whole house from top to bottom. I know you know this already, but you’ll miss it. You won’t want it back. You won’t trade how things are now for anything in the whole world. But you’ll still miss it.
No amount of exercise will guarantee you a certain type of labor and delivery. You can do everything “right” for 40 weeks — regular exercise, yoga, strengthening, mental preparation, eating all the right things. In the end it doesn’t really matter. Sure, if your body cooperates, all that exercise and mental toughness certainly will help you get through the grueling task of delivering a baby. But sometimes things don’t go according to plan. And you may find yourself in surgery, scared out of your mind on what is supposed to be the most empowering day of your life.
I don’t say this to scare you, or be all gloom-and-doom about birth. I say it just to make sure you’re aware. Because maybe you’re working out and training your mind and expecting everything to happen seamlessly. After all, women have been giving birth for centuries. And I hope it does. I really, really do. But please just be prepared for the possibility that it might not. For better or for worse, the c-section rate in this country is on the rise. So even though it probably won’t happen to you, it might. If there’s one regret that I have about my own labor & delivery experience, it’s that I didn’t prepare. I knew little about c-sections and even less about the recovery. I think my experience would not have been so scary and negative if I had done even a tiny bit of preparation before going in…and I’m pretty sure the recovery would not have felt so terrible either.
Despite all that – exercise during pregnancy (with your doctor’s permission, of course). Not because it will lead to the “labor of your dreams” (whatever that means). But because it keeps you healthy, makes you feel better, move better, ache less. It keeps you sane, eases your stress, and gives you endorphins. And because it’s good for your baby. Because you know that every step you walk or yoga pose you hold is helping your baby grow healthy and strong. I had a love/hate relationship with running while pregnant. It wasn’t always the blissful experience I expected it to be. But I did what I could for as long as I was able. Find the balance that makes you feel best.
On Postpartum Weight Loss
There’s a lot of pressure in the media and on blogs to be perfect. Have the perfect pregnancy. Exercise (but not too much), eat healthy, glow from the inside out. Have an “easy” labor and “bounce back” immediately. We as a culture are obsessed with shedding that baby weight ASAP. It’s all crap. Absolute crap.
You may bounce back. The weight might slip right off and you may get back to running/working out two weeks after baby without any problem. You may find yourself effortlessly balancing motherhood and training, and you may wonder why some women claim that it’s so difficult.
But more likely, you may not. And what’s more – you may not even care. You may look at your loose belly and wide hips and be grateful to them for the amazing work they did. You may find yourself at peace with a lower level of training than you did before baby. You may even find that training for races doesn’t have a place in your new life. That’s okay. Just because X blogger or X celebrity was below her pre-baby weight in 2 months doesn’t mean it’s normal. Just because you struggle to get back to some semblance of the person you were before, you are not alone.
Just don’t give up on exercise after that baby is born. It doesn’t have to be much. It doesn’t have to be intense. People will tell you “they’re only this small once” and it’s true. You don’t have to sacrifice time with your baby for training…don’t have to make it your top priority. But move every day. It’s good for your body and it’s good for your soul. It will help you feel like yourself again. And it sets a good example for that baby of yours. Walking, running, and hiking with Amelia are my favorite things to do now. She loves the fresh air and I love being active as a family.
That being said, don’t feel bad if you just don’t feel it. If you used to run before baby and now just don’t have the time or motivation. It’s so cliche but it’s true – the days are long but the years are short. Your priorities may or may not change. Don’t waste your time stressing about it. Someday things will fall into place.
Do not underestimate the importance of recovery. I know some women seem to be out running or working out a few weeks after giving birth, like nothing ever happened. Maybe you were one of those women who couldn’t wait to get back at it and felt amazing fairly quickly. But it’s okay if you’re not. It took a good 6 months for me to feel like “myself” again when running. It has been a slow, stunted process…an improvement that has included many plateaus. But I think my body just needed time. And I believe that the slow comeback is the reason why I find myself gradually getting faster and feeling strong every single month.
If you’re nursing, training may take a lot more out of you than it did before. It takes more calories to produce milk every day for your baby than it did to grow him/her. My OB warned me of this, but I didn’t truly appreciate that warning until I was in it. This past week I finally ran 40 miles. My first 40 mile week since early 2013. It took a long time to get there, and I will admit that I was pretty proud of myself when I did it…and subsequently exhausted. And that’s with a baby who is a good sleeper! But that working + running + nursing combination is a doozy. So don’t be too hard on yourself if you need to do less.
On Babies and Parenthood
It’s pretty easy to become that parent. You know, the annoying one who thinks her baby is a genius for finding her hands, or making eye contact, or waving…or playing peek-a-boo with you for the first time. It’s okay to think it. Your baby is way more fascinating than any other baby in the history of babies. But maybe it’s better if you just don’t share that fact with every stranger you meet. Every single milestone that we hit, I say – “this is my favorite age! I wish I could freeze her in time right here.” And then another one gets here and I love it even more.
There is something about a teeny tiny, squishy, snuggly sleeping newborn. And somehow, despite the fact that your child was a newborn not so long ago, you may find yourself missing those days sooner than you thought possible. Maybe it’s because your tiny baby has suddenly become Miss Independent – always on the move, not wanting to be fed, able to play by herself – but you find yourself aching for a tiny newborn to snuggle. And then you remember what you have to go through to get one of those newborns, and you are suddenly thankful for pregnant family and friends who will let you snuggle their baby and then return them.
The sense of pride that comes from successfully adjusting the baby without waking them up is unlike anything in this world. Despite the fact that this is more related to luck than to talent, you will find yourself rejoicing every single time you manage to do it. Last night I somehow managed to put Amelia’s socks back on her feet at 10:00PM while she snored blissfully away in her crib. By the way I danced into the room afterward, you’d think I’d just won a race…or been given a huge promotion at work.
On the flip side — there is nothing quite like the despair and dread that results from the unsuccessful attempts. When you sprint out of their room and into your own with wild fear in your eyes, trying to run from that cry you know is about to erupt. Only to face your husband accusatory: “WHAT did you do??”
Related: you also may find yourself staring at the baby monitor and obsessing over whether the baby is too hot or too cold in her crib…despite the fact that she is currently sleeping peacefully. Or maybe that’s just me. I look at the temperature, look at what she’s wearing and hem and haw over whether the window needs to be open/closed, the fan needs to be turned up/down/off, I didn’t put her in enough layers, I need to get that sock back on, etc etc etc. Evan is convinced I’m just making up an excuse to go in and check on her every night. I have no comment.
Just when you’re feeling good about yourself and how much you’ve learned over the past 9 months, how far you’ve come as a parent, you make a rookie mistake that knocks you down a peg or two. Like thoughtlessly throwing the wubannub in the wash one weekend morning and forgetting that wash cycles take awhile (and things do not air dry instantly). Amelia doesn’t have many sleep crutches, but her wubbanub is her buddy. Froggy Friend is the only pacifier we have at home (Kitty lives at daycare) and even though we only see him during naps and bedtime, I’m pretty sure she is as attached to the frog at this point as she is to the paci. So when it came time for a nap on that Saturday morning and Froggy Friend was still soaking wet in the middle of a wash cycle, we had a bit of a meltdown. I stood there rubbing her back, cursing my stupidity, and contemplating whether it would be worth it to let my child sleep with a soaking wet pacifier.
And then you might find yourself, right before it’s time for the afternoon nap, frantically blow drying Froggy Friend in order to avoid a repeat of the morning’s events (a very effective drying strategy — as long as you have the patience to sit there and do it!).
It is impossible to keep pet hair out of a crawling baby’s mouth. You could vacuum every single day and still it seems to spontaneously sprout up from the floor. Or the baby grabs the poor cat and comes away with fistfuls of hair (“gentle” is not yet in her vocabulary). I love my animals dearly, but there are days (many days) when I find myself puzzling over the absurdity of this cultural tradition of taming wild things to live in our house.
Babies also have an uncanny ability to find the teeniest tiniest grossest crumb of junk. A morsel that looks delicious only to them. And even though you may think that you are more dextrous than a 9 month old who has really just mastered that dang pincer grasp, they are lightening fast when it comes to getting such morsels into their mouth. This morning Amelia may or may not have eaten dirt from the mudroom floor while I was gathering up my stuff for work. Or maybe it was a crumb of dog food. It’s really impossible to tell. So much for that organic, no-additives diet.
Pinterest might try to tell you otherwise, but those cute, perfectly staged photo opps you envision may not always turn out like you had planned. Especially when your schedule gets thrown off, the baby is exhausted and she falls asleep 5 minutes into your apple picking excursion. You know, the one where you had planned to take all sorts of “natural” cute fall photos of her picking her first apple, sitting on a pile of pumpkins, and looking adorable in her fall gear. You may only end up with pictures of her sleeping…which, in the scheme of things, is better than pictures of a full-fledged public meltdown.
Parenting is a wild, crazy ride. Unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. I may have learned a lot in the past 9 months, but I’m still just making stuff up as I go. Hoping that this baby of mine, who I love deeper than I ever thought possible, grows up to be a happy, well-adjusted kid. I’ve heard that it just keeps getting harder. And more amazing. I can’t wait.
|September 19, 2014||Posted by Lauren under Running|
It’s National Run@Work Day! Anyone celebrating? My office is hosting our own Run/Walk@Work event next week (just want to be nonconformists, I suppose) but I’ll still be getting in a few miles during lunch today. It’s the least I could do to support the awesome sport of running, you know?
Anyway, it’s been awhile, but that’s kind of the norm around here now. So let’s just jump right in!
After 100on100, I took a full week off to recover. The event itself really deserves its own post (I keep meaning to, I promise!), but the short version is that it was an amazing, grueling race…in a completely different way than the 200-mile overnight relay.
The highlights: I was really happy with how I ran, I absolutely loved the course (every leg was scenic!), and I am already planning for next year. But more about that later.
I didn’t intend to take a week completely off running after the race, but it took longer for the desire to come back than it did for my legs to feel whole again. And in the end, I think the extended rest was good. Despite training at a lower volume than I used it, I’m finding that it takes a bigger toll on my body these days. That complete week of rest gave me the boost I needed to start ramping up again.
Now I’m happy to be back in training. The big race for the fall is the CHaD Hero Half Marathon. It feels a little strange to “just” be training for a half, but the theme of this year has been rebuilding. I really want to work on getting my endurance back, building up a little bit of speed, and making regular training a habit again.
And this race really is the perfect one to train for. The course is practically in my backyard, it’s for a great cause, Evan wants to run it too, AND my parents are coming up from NC to babysit Amelia. So basically all the stars have aligned. Although I’m pretty certain that a PR is not feasible, I really just want to get back into racing distance again. I’ll talk more about goals in a future post, but the main purpose of this is to shake the rust off and finish “competitively” (by my own standards – which basically means faster than the one I ran in April). Oh, and beating Evan would be nice. Or at least not getting smoked by him in the final sprint.
Right now the other race on my calendar is the Harpoon Brewery Octoberfest during Columbus Day weekend. This will be our 3rd year in a row running, and this year I’ve got my sights set on a case of beer. The distance is weird (3.6 miles) and the fee is a bit steeper than a typical 5K, but for awesome beer mugs and post-race drink tickets, it’s more than worth it. Plus, did I mention the cases of beer up for grabs for the top finishers?
My goal for this cycle is to build up to consistently running 6 days per week again…easier said than done, it seems! I’ve been at 5 for awhile now and honestly, that feels pretty comfortable. I don’t remember it being so difficult in the past but man, these days it tires me out. In an ideal world, I would also like to get myself back over 40 mpw for the first time since pre-pregnancy. I’ve been sitting pretty comfortably in the low/mid-30s and surprisingly, it feels like enough. If I don’t make it out of the 30s before the half, I won’t stress about it. I know I can complete one on less (though maybe wouldn’t recommend it). However, I would like to feel decently competitive at this race, which means stepping outside my comfort zone for just a few weeks.
The biggest wrench in my training lately has been the increasingly shorter days. I could write a whole post whining about this, but in the end it just sounds like a bunch of excuses. Short story long – I got into a habit of running in the early morning over the summer and, for the first time in my life, started to enjoy it (but shhhh I still won’t call myself a morning runner). Lately, however, I’m finding it harder to get myself out the door. Not just because it’s early and cold(er), but the dark makes me nervous. It’s not like I’ve never run in the dark before. There’s just something about the pre-dawn darkness at 5:30AM that feels a little more unsafe than 5:30PM.
I don’t necessarily think my greatest threat is other people. I live in a safe, low-crime area (yes, I know, I still need to be alert because anything can happen) that is also pretty rural with very few sidewalks. At least part of every single run is along the major route through town. And in the darkness of the morning, I’ve seen my life flash before my eyes a few times while running along stretches with a thin shoulder as cars speed toward me with their brights on.
I’m not sure what the best solution to this issue is. I wear reflective gear, don’t listen to music, and stay completely alert. I’ve been trying to experiment with running at different times of day, but really my best chance at running more than 5 miles is in the morning. Lunchtime runs are short, the window between finishing work and daycare closing really only gives me 45-50 minutes, and running after I get home is tough because it throws off everyone’s (read: the baby’s) schedule. Plus the dog doesn’t get his walk. Just one more thing to feel guilty about…
Yes, I know, this is a really minor problem that I’m making into a big one. In reality, I just need to suck it up and get it done when I can…just like every other person who fits training into their life. But if anyone has any tips, advice or can commiserate, I’d love to hear it!
Amelia is going to be 9 months on Sunday; 40 weeks on the 27th. Out as long as she was in. These past 9 months have gone by in a blur. She is crawling, standing, and walking with assistance. She hasn’t met a food she doesn’t love, loves going for runs with us in the BOB (she “sings” to herself on our runs) and waves at everyone and everything. Watching someone learn new skills every single day is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever gotten to experience. She has already changed so much from that teeny little newborn and I know it’s only going to keep getting better.
I still have a love/hate relationship with work. The roller coaster of loving my job and feeling as though I’m doing something meaningful one minute and hating the fact that I work the next has not really faded since I’ve been back. Fortunately, however, the ache of being away from the baby during the day that I felt in those first few weeks is long gone. I see how much she has blossomed in daycare, I see how she interacts with the kids there and I see how much she truly loves her “teachers” and it makes me happy. Makes me think that this is good for her (and for me)…or so I hope.
And in terms of my body? It’s different. Not “back” but not gone either…if that makes any sense. I plan to do more of an update on this later only because it’s relevant to running/racing, but I will tell you that as long as my body is able to run I’m happy. I’ve seen glimpses of that old speed come back during recent races and random runs (like a 6-mile sub-7 evening run that came out of nowhere), and it’s incredibly encouraging. Gradual forward progress. That’s really all anyone can ask for, I think.
|August 29, 2014||Posted by Lauren under Running|
Last year, when I was pregnant and relatively naïve about motherhood, I made lots of grand claims (both publicly and privately) about running and training post-pregnancy. It’s my first time doing this whole parenting thing after all, and so I had no frame of reference – no real idea of what life would be like on the other side. I only knew how old LBC felt about training. And Old LBC was pretty passionate about it.
I got a lot of “just you wait” comments in those days. And while I listened to them and knew they were coming from a place of good intentions, I didn’t fully understand. I figured life would be different and my priorities would shift, but I couldn’t imagine a life without wanting to train. Or one where I didn’t care if I wasn’t in great shape or my body was mushy.
Well, turns out a lot of those commenters were right – almost. Life is different, my priorities are different, and for what seemed like a long time, I wasn’t sure I would ever have the desire or energy to actually train again. Competitive LBC seemed to be gone. I felt content with just going out a few times a week for a few slow miles. Not necessarily because I was so incredibly busy (although there were times I felt like I was struggling to keep my head above water). I just didn’t want to do it. And to be perfectly honest – getting back in shape kind of sucks. It’s humbling and at times demoralizing. Part of the fun (for me) is feeling like I’m fast and light and fit and strong. Slogging along for a couple of miles just to say that I completed a run doesn’t do it for me.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t stress about this change in perspective a little bit. But for the most part, I tried to take a step back and let things work themselves out. Tried to give myself patience and time to get back at it again. And you know what? It worked. Slowly, as the months have gone by, I’ve felt that fire burning again. Just a flicker at first. But over the past several months it has grown and grown until it has become a strong flame, pushing me to get up in the dark to pound out miles before work. The training is different, the intensity is less, but it’s coming back. Turns out Competitive LBC never really went away. She was just dormant for a little while.
Which is how I found myself, on a warm evening in the middle of August, after limited training and absolutely no speed work, with a shiny new 5K PR. Don’t ask me how it happened. Even after 2 weeks of reflection, I still couldn’t tell you.
I signed up for the Cigna 5K with a team from work. Every year we enter a team in the corporate race. I missed out last year because of the pregnancy (running a hot August 5K after work hours away from home was just not appealing), so I felt a little extra pressure to run this year. I somehow roped Evan into the race with me by claiming that we could just run “easy” together. I’m pretty sure he knew I was lying right from the start, but to his credit he agreed – despite the fact that the 5K was only 2 days before 100on100.
I had butterflies in my stomach all day long. I felt like I was back in school, waiting for a cross country meet. I couldn’t focus, didn’t know what to eat, and had absolutely no idea how I was going to run a fast 5K after sitting at my desk all day.
Fortunately for us, it was cooler than normal that evening, with temperatures in the mid-70s. We got to Manchester in just enough time to use the porta-potties, drop Amelia off with my friend and her son who were there to support her husband, do a quick (5 minutes – not enough!!) warm up, and fight our way into the crowds on the line. With over 5,600 participants, this was (by far) the largest 5K I have ever run. We were in the first wave (sub-23:00) and I knew the lead pack would go out fast. So my only goal was to go out strong and hold on.
Before we started I made Evan promise that he wouldn’t hold back for me. Don’t get me wrong – I wanted more than anything to beat him. But I didn’t want him to make it easy. And I had no plans to wait for him if he fell behind (just being honest – he wouldn’t want me to either!).
The gun went off and everyone surged. I took off quickly, weaving in and out of the crowds. I told myself not to waste so much energy going around people but it was nearly impossible. After what felt like forever, Evan and I settled into a pace side by side. I looked down at my watch and felt a wave of disappointment when I saw the pace: 6:30/mile. Normally at the beginning of a 5K, I am hopped up on adrenaline and go out way too fast. But I was already struggling. 6:30 felt harder than I wanted it to be and I panicked. I needed to get out of my own head.
So I changed my strategy. All that mattered from that point on was perceived effort. I wasn’t allowed to look at my watch except for at the mile markers (there were timing clocks at every mile). I just focused on staying with Evan and keeping an even pace. “Lock it in!” I told myself, repeating it so many times that it became my motto for the race – the words I went back to over and over when I started to struggle.
Mile 1 – 6:19
Turns out the first mile was all uphill (hence the struggle). We turned a corner in the 2nd mile and went down a very welcome hill. Spectators were out cheering and spraying us with hoses. I ran alongside a woman with a hose and got hammered with water right in my face. It was amazing! A temporary break from focusing on the pain — before Evan suddenly started to pull ahead just a little bit. I tried not to let him get far or become discouraged. I still had time. I still had energy. I could catch him eventually.
Normally mile 2 of a 5K seems to drag on forever – the adrenaline from the first mile has worn off and the final mile still feels so far away. I don’t know if it was the slight downhill or the fact that I was sort of chasing Evan, but the mile went by so quickly. I looked down at my watch at the mile marker: 6:18. Nearly identical split to my first mile. Keep it locked in, I thought.
The final mile brought us along the back of the warehouses in Manchester and I knew there would be a hill to the finish. The same one that destroyed me during MCM two years ago. Evan seemed to find a second wind and started pulling further away. My head yelled at my legs to go with him, but my heart wasn’t in it. If I had taken a moment to think about how fast I was running or how close I would be to my old PR, maybe I would have found the motivation. Or maybe I would’ve crumbled under the pressure…who knows. For the first time in maybe ever, I didn’t do any math during a race. I had absolutely no idea what my projected finish time would be until I saw the clock at the line. It was kind of freeing.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally turned a corner and there it was – the hill I had been dreading for the past mile. I put my head down, lifted my knees and tried to drive my way up. People seemed to be passing me left and right but I only had eyes for one competitor – my husband. Evan may have the leg speed, but I knew I was faster than him on hills. I made it my mission to catch him.
And I did. For a few brief seconds I even pulled ahead. I could see the finish line (still looking so far away) and I tried to sprint with every ounce of energy left in my legs. Unfortunately for me, Evan could see it too. And he was determined not to be out-kicked by his wife in the final sprint. He took off, and I helplessly watched as his back got further and further away.
At that moment I finally looked up at the clock. I was in shock – I saw the 19:xx, watched the seconds ticking closer and closer to my PR and thought maybe, just maybe I could squeak out a few seconds. It was the motivation I needed. I gave one final push, focused on the other backs in front of me (including one female who I had been chasing the entire race), and somehow found another gear. I crossed the finish line absolutely spent but victorious: 19:36, a 10 second PR.
Evan beat me by 3 whole seconds (a PR for him as well!). Which seems like nothing when I type it out. But at the end of a hard 5K, 3 seconds can be an eternity.
Am I happy with that PR? Absolutely! I had no idea what to expect going into the race and would’ve been happy if I had managed to pull off a 20:xx 5K. I pushed hard and ran an even effort. I still can’t believe my splits when I look at them – by far the most consistent 5K I’ve ever run. The PR was just icing on the cake.
I’m happy, excited, and feeling confident…but I’m not satisfied. And really – what kind of runner would I be if I was? I find myself thinking, if I could run that time under those circumstances, just imagine what I can do with X training?? The plight of the runner is to be endlessly unsatisfied, I think. Because the thing is, even if my run was a fluke, even if it was the result of everything magically coming together to give me a time faster than what I could really train to run, I still have that hope. That fire that burns. The will to see how much faster I can go, how much harder I can push. It’s the thing that keeps us running. The thing that makes our runner’s hearts beat.
Competitive LBC is back. She isn’t the same as before, but she’s in there. And that’s enough for now.
Garmin results: 6:19, 6:20, 6:19, last 0.1 – 6:14 pace (19:38)
Official results: 19:36 (6:19), 3rd in AG and 15th female
Seeing as the winning time was 14:38 and the first female ran a 16:36, I am super excited about those stats. And our female corporate team came in 10th overall. An awesome evening at the races!