The hard and fast truths of running

I'm working on changing my name (got hitched last month! woohoo!) and going through the fun tasks of getting a new driver's license, passport, etc. I just got my new passport and license back and after looking at the photos I have to say, wow, I am not a spring chicken anymore. 31 years have crept up on me.

And then it dawned on me that I've been running (off and on...some times more frequently than other times) for 17 years now. My body has miraculously held up for the most part. I've run on 5 different continents (well, I ran on a treadmill in India...I'm counting that as running in Asia...I know treadmill running doesn't totally count, but it was extremely hot, monsoon season, and I was a blonde white girl traveling solo in Mumbai - not the safest place to be running the streets alone), in all sorts of weather. It occurred to me that I've probably picked up some pearls of wisdom over all these years and miles.

So, here are a few of my thoughts on Things That Will Happen If You Run:

1) Your feet will be unattractive. Whether it's blisters, black toenails, missing toenails, or bloody spots on your ankles where your new running shoes rubbed you the wrong way (literally), your feet will definitely reflect the miles they take you. Live with it. If getting a pedicure makes you feel better, go for it, but just know it will be an uphill battle probably not really worth fighting.

2) Chafing will inevitably occur, and you inevitably won't find out about the spots that chafe until it's too late. This is what the post-run shower is for: to help you identify, through agonizing pain, the parts of your body that were rubbed raw during that 20-mile run.

3) You will know how far it is to everything within an 8 mile radius of your home: 2 miles to the post office, 3.75 miles to the stop sign at the intersection near the highway, 1.4 miles to the house with the funny lawn ornaments in front of it. While this is useful knowledge, most people don't really care or think of things in terms of mileage, so don't start spouting off your knowledge about distances to people unless they happen to be a runner, too.

4) You will get irritated with people who have no clue what it means to walk on the right side of the road. This probably won't really bother you unless you are a runner. Once you take to running trails, you will find that large groups of hikers who walk side-by-side and take up the entire width of the trail will trigger inordinate amounts of rage in you.

5) You will lose weight, but it might not necessarily be the parts of your body you wanted to lose the weight from. Boob fat is sadly easy to lose. Stomach and thigh fat: not so much.

To Vibram or not to Vibram?

I admit, I've jumped on the minimalist bandwagon and been running (off and on) in Vibrams for the past 8 months or so. And the jury's still out on whether they've been a good investment or not.

I first decided to get a pair when a running buddy of mine made the switch to five-fingers and swore by them. "It feels so much more natural, so organic," she gushed, as she glided silently down the trail next to me. I'm no hippie, so the word organic made me cringe a bit and instinctively made me skeptical, but when I saw that she had completely abandoned her cushy New Balances and was running exclusively in her Vibrams (and running faster than me!), I began to think maybe there was something to it.

Then I finally dusted off the copy of "Born to Run" someone had given me for my birthday the previous year and became a convert to the barefoot running school of thought. The chapters on early humans outrunning their prey while barefoot brought out some primal instinct in me and I decided to rebel against Nike and Asics' cushioned heel marketing ploy and try some minimalist running of my own. I went to my nearest sports store and picked up the only pair of Vibrams they had available in my size. Which of course, were ridiculous-looking (seriously, what design genius thought it would be cool to make already-ridiculous-looking shoes with finger-like toes even more clownish by producing them in a bright blue color?) and pretty damn expensive when you consider that could achieve the same effect for free by just heading out your front door barefoot.

After an extremely painful first running experience in them, before I learned that you don't need to run on tiptoe in order to strike with your midfoot first and that you shouldn't attempt a 3-mile run the first time you wear them, I was skeptical again. Surely my calves shouldn't be sore for a WEEK after a 3 mile run, I thought to myself. However, cheapskate that I am, I was determined to get my money's worth out of those shoes, and so I kept at it, alternating Vibram usage with runs in my regular Asics and gradually building up to 4 or 5 miles.

And it's grown on me. I am fortunate enough to live in a beach town with a wonderful trail of hard-packed sand minutes from my front door and beautiful year-round running weather. It's the perfect place for wearing Vibrams: no rocks and no hard pavement, just miles of nice soft ground with an ocean view. When I put on my Vibrams, I feel different. I feel like a runner. Like it's just me and the earth and my body just wants to go. I don't know if I actually run much faster in Vibrams than in my running shoes, but I feel like I'm faster. I feel more cat-like, more ninja-like. I mentally transform from a jogger into a runner when I wear them.

However, the case of tendonitis in my right knee that has been hinting at causing problems for the past year has not improved since I started wearing Vibrams more often. In fact, my knee pain has gradually been increasing over the past few months. I don't wear my Vibrams on runs longer than 5 miles or so (the balls of my feet and my calves won't let me), if it's below 60 degress out (I'm a Southern California wimp), or if I'm going to be doing the bulk of my running on hard pavement. So I typically end up wearing Vibrams 1-2 days a week and my Asics for runs the other days of the week. I could potentially be negating any of the positive effects of minimalist running by alternating Vibram usage with cushy heel-strike inducing sneakers, but I also don't seem to be staving off tendonitis any better by wearing them. My per-mile pace hasn't dramatically improved, and I'm sure I still have the same awkward loping stride I always had - no magical transformation to gracefully striding runner here. Plus I still occasionally get sore calves or calluses on the balls of my feet after a good hard Vibram run, which reduces my running capacity for the next couple of days.

However, I do think wearing Vibrams a couple days a week is good for me psychologically - it gets me excited about running and makes me feel a bit more confident about my run. They're so much easier to pack when traveling than running shoes: all you have to do is throw lightweight Vibrams into your suitcase and you're done, with no bulky sneakers and multiple pairs of socks to worry about. And since I'm wearing them a couple times a week instead of sneakers, I don't put as much mileage on my sneakers as quickly. Which means that I don't wear out my sneakers as quickly and have to buy expensive new Asics as often - and this, as we know, is a cheapskate's dream.

So this raises the eternal question: to Vibram or not to Vibram?

OC half marathon

The Avia OC marathon and half-marathon was this past Sunday. I've been gradually increasing my weekend long runs over the past month or two to the point where I did two 12.5 milers a couple weeks ago. My goal was, and is, the Laguna Hills half-marathon where I had my PR last year. The race is on Memorial Day - May 25 - so I figured what better training for a half-marathon than running another half-marathon?

I hadn't run one since last year's Laguna Hills half, and I haven't even run a race since the 4th of July 5k last year (unless you count my duathlon in March, which I guess counts since it involved running two 5ks). I was feeling a bit rusty, so I decided somewhat last-minute (about 2 weeks before) to push my training up a notch and run the OC half. This way I'd be getting a refresher in racing, pacing, etc. before the race I actually care about.

And it turned out to be a good idea. The weather was ideal for the OC half, I wasn't nervous for the race at all since I was just looking at it as a good training opportunity, and it was conveniently located so I didn't have to get up at 3 am or stay in a hotel the night before in order to get to the start line in plenty of time. Plus, I run the Back Bay part of the course every weekend so I was familiar with a good portion of the course, including the only 2 hills of consequence on the course.

Boy, was I rusty! My pacing was WAYYYY off for the first half. I was just cruising along for the first half, running comfortably and slowly passing person-by-person all the people who started out too fast the first few miles. And then I got to about the 5 mile mark and had a huge shock when I realized a) my GPS was off by about .15 miles so I hadn't run as far as I thought and b) I was just now catching up to the 3:40 marathon pacer (1:50 half marathon pacer). I panicked as I realized that if I kept on course I'd have no chance of a PR (even though that wasn't my goal for the race) and that even if I pushed it the second half of the course, achieving a PR or even a time close to my PR was going to be really difficult. So I picked up the pace but I never let myself push it too hard, I always kept it at a do-able pace that didn't leave me winded but also wasn't a pace I wanted to run 26 miles at.

And I felt really good for most of the race. I got a little dizzy (very, very mild, not enough to stop or be concerned about dehydration) from about miles 9-11, but taking a Gu at miles 5 and 10 really helped me maintain energy for the second half, and I pushed the pace well into the 7:00's. My 10k result was an abysmal 55 minutes/ 8:31 pace. I finished in 1:44:07, a 7:57 pace, so I'm thinking I must have averaged in the 7:30s for the second half of the race in order to end up with that time. Which gives me hope that I can run a 47 minute or maybe 46 minute 10k someday.

Overall the race was well-organized. No major complaints except that the bag pick-up area at the end was really difficult to find and had no signs to help you find it (it was hidden behind a fence on the way to the parking lot). And what's worse, upon arriving at the bag pick-up area, I discovered that there was only race volunteer present, and she was completely overwhelmed since she had a truck full of bags, not arranged in any particular order, to sort into bins. A bunch of racers and myself and Adam had to climb into the truck, toss out bags, and sort the bags by numbers into bins while looking for our own belongings. After about 15 minutes Adam finally found my bag and we left.

He is an awesome boyfriend, by the way. He woke up at the crack of dawn without complaint, sleepily drove me to Fashion Island and dropped me off with a hug and good luck wishes, and then, after returning home for a couple more hours of sleep, he parked his car at Kurt and Jen's and rode his bike to a couple points on the course to cheer me on. And then rode over to the finish area where he helped me find my bag and walked back to his car wtih me and drove me home. All without complaint. I'm so lucky.

I failed miserably

So I didn't run a marathon in 3:40:59 last year. I didn't run a marathon, period. I was a big, fat, lazy piece of fat instead.

To be fair, I did have genuine intentions to run a marathon - heck, I toyed with the idea of even running two marathons should the first marathon not yield Boston-worthy results. But as the old cliche states, the road to In-N-Out burger is paved with good intentions, and sadly, it's less than 26.2 miles to the nearest In-N-Out burger.

The Long Beach marathon was my goal. I signed up in early summer, brimming with enthusiasm, visions of Boston marathon grandeur, and cheapskate desire to not only get the lowest price for the race but also to score one of those nifty technical shirts and a personalized bib to boot. All started off well, as I faithfully clung to my Hal Higdon marathon training program and completed my speed workouts and long runs with due diligence. I was up to distances of 17 miles and feeling pretty good about my chances of being an elite Boston runner (or at least one who didn't have to sell out and enter for charity in order to be able to run in the race).

And then three catastrophes beyond all human capacity for endurance struck: Cluck-U, Neil Diamond's laryngitis, and Staph.

Things all started going downhill the weekend I flew to New Jersey for a girl's weekend. It was Laura's birthday, and Laura, Nina, Hackett, and I celebrated with all the zeal a 28th birthday requires. This culminated in the fateful decision to head to Cluck-U in New Brunswick, NJ, for a post-drinking late-night snack, which of course resulted in nauseau, regret, and an automatic deposit of five pounds on my thighs. This, of course, in turn caused me to skip a long run, or any sort of run, for several days as my body and mind recovered from the turmoil of Cluck-U and the rest of the weekend debauchery.

I tried to recover once I got back from New Jersey and did put in some long runs in the August heat. And then Neil Diamond interrupted. I flew to Columbus for another long weekend in August to do the usual visit-my-nephew/catch-a-Neil-Diamond-concert all-inclusive weekend. It was great fun; Jack is adorable (and that's not just the biased opinion of an aunt - he really is baby-talk inducing-ly cute) and Neil Diamond entertained me and the crowd of 60 year olds in Columbus OH with as much pep as a 65 year old man with laryngitis could muster. However, no running was done in the sticky humidity of Columbus, and the Long Beach marathon goal was yet again set back.

The killer came a few weeks later. I was already struggling to stay motivated since I was behind in my long runs and didn't feel like I was where I needed to be in my training. And then I started getting some bumps on my knees that looked like bug bites. I didn't know what they were. They'd itch at first, then develop an-oh-so-attractive white pus head, and then they'd get a little painful, and eventually they would fade into a purple spot on my leg and gradually disappear. All except one, that is. One bump on the shin of my right leg began to swell and become very painful, to the point where my entire shin was red and swollen and I could barely walk. I, being a procrastinator and hyper-sensitive about being viewed as a hypochondriac, did not go to the doctor until the point where I was limping and my leg was throbbing. I hobbled to the doctor, who diagnosed me with a staph infection, prescribed some intense antibiotics, and told me to rest my leg. Considering I was hobbling like Nancy Kerrigan after being hit by Tonya Harding's husband, I didn't really have a choice other than to rest my leg for half a week or so.

And that was the nail in the coffin. I was behind schedule, true, but I wasn't so far behind that I could never get in sufficient shape for Long Beach. If I had really wanted to, I could have at least gotten an 18 to 20 mile run in at least once before the race, and that would have been enough for me to at least finish the marathon.

But I was tired of running, tired of feeling guilty and behind. The point of running for me isn't to achieve great times, because, let's face it, I'm never going to win a race or set any records. (Heck, I'm struggling just to make the slowest cut off for the Boston marathon.) The point is to enjoy it, to feel good when I'm doing it and when I finish, to help me feel healthy, and to give me a positive outlet for all the stress I bottle up. (And to help me be able to cope with disasters like Cluck-U with minimal weight gain) And I was constantly feeling like I wasn't doing enough, like it was a chore to get out there and run, like I was a big failure. It was definitely more of a stressor than a stress release, and that's not what I want from a hobby.

So I pulled the plug on Long Beach and didn't think about doing any races for a while. I was still running, but not on an official schedule, so I'd run whatever mileage I wanted to on weekends and whatever I felt like during the week. And it felt good to no longer have a deadline looming, like weight being lifted off my shoulders (it could have been me finally burning off the Cluck-U chicken from my thighs). I started riding my bike a bit more with Adam and even did a duathlon in March that I really enjoyed.

I've signed up for the half marathon in this Sunday's OC marathon and have not yet set any goals for myself to achieve. I just want to finish it. And it feels good to not have a time goal. I want to just enjoy running again. For a little while at least; I am thinking of signing up with a training group for next fall's Long Beach marathon to help keep me focused and motivated over the summer. The group starts in June, and it would be nice to have other folks to run with on those warm Saturday mornings when all I want to do is stay in nice cool air conditioning and snuggle with Adam. But it's not decided yet, and no matter what, I want to run on my terms and feel good about it, without my hobby turning into a chore.

Oh yes, and never fear: Despite not running the race, I did pick up my Long Beach marathon race packet and nifty technical tee, which I wear not only because it is super-comfy but also because it lets people think I ran the darn marathon.

mediocre runs

I'm not sure whether I hate bad runs or mediocre runs more. A bad run is a run where you drag yourself through it, you're in pain/dehydrated/exhausted, you have to stop and walk, etc. It's pretty obvious when you have a bad run. A good run is a run where you feel strong, your body seems to be fluid and wanting to move, you can push yourself and not be miserable, etc. It's pretty obvious when you have a good run.

And then there are mediocre runs. These are harder to define - you're able to finish your run, but it's not particularly enjoyable and it's a little bit more of a challenge than usual. These are the ones that you have to dig the deepest on, in my opinion. On a bad run, you know you're having one and that they happen from time to time and you have to just push through it and accept that these are normal and happen. And mentally you can accept that. Mediocre runs are where self-doubt starts to creep in. You start to worry that you're not in good shape, that maybe your body is tired and needs a break, etc. And you wonder why you're up at 5:30 in the morning slugging your way down the running trail instead of snuggled deep under the covers. It's not bad enough of a run to make you just shrug it off and chalk it up to a bad day, but it's not enjoyable.

I guess it's pretty obvious that I had a mediocre run this morning. I got up nice and early to hit the Back Bay trail by the time it was light out, and I managed to run a decent pace, but I just never seemed to hit my stride and I spent the last couple of miles obsessing about how hard it will be to qualify for Boston and how I'll never be in good enough shape to run 8:26 pace for 26.2 miles.

Monday: day of rest (tired from last weekend)

Tuesday: day of Beth being fat and lazy and not running

Wednesday: 45 minute tempo run, about 5.5 miles. Plus triceps

Thursday: A little over 3 miles, run at unidentified pace but I'd estimate at around 8 minute mile pace

Friday: 12.2 miles, Back Bay trail, around 1 hour 44 minutes

Not running related, but got my heart rate up...

So Adam came over yesterday afternoon and we ended up cuddling on my bed and he was super cute and affectionate and stroking my hair and things. And after a few moments of silence, he finally started talking. He said he was sorry he wasn't very good at talking about his feelings, but he was really into me and every time we had plans to hang out he always would have a huge smile in anticipation and that he knew I knew this, but that this wasn't just some fling for him.

It was really, really nice to hear all this from him. I mean, our first date was nearly 2 and a half months ago and we still have never had the exclusivity talk and he's not very forthcoming with compliments and talking about how he likes me, etc. I guess I don't really need to hear it from him to know it, because I can tell from things he does and how he looks at me and how much fun we always have together. But a little reassurance never hurts, and it definitely made me really happy to hear. I really like Adam - we're compatible on a lot of levels. So keeping my fingers crossed on this one....I'm sure I'll be re-living yesterday's conversation in my head for all my runs over the next few days.

Dirty Girl

I did the mud run down at Camp Pendleton today with Brooke and Brittany and a few of their friends. I woke up with my toe throbbing from the blister again and was limping by the time I walked out the front door. When I picked up Brooke, she noticed I was limping and asked if I was OK and I felt like a complete wimp when I had to tell her it was because of a blister. I mean, Brittany had a stress fracture and she was in better shape than I was. I think the blister has to be infected or something because I've never had one so painful. 

I was a bit scared when we arrived down at Camp Pendleton because the toe was hurting and Brittany had let it slip that there is a swim across a lake. I am a bad enough swimmer without shoes and clothes weighing me down, so that got me worried. To be honest, when I was standing at the starting line with Brooke, I thought I might have to drop out of the race in the first couple of miles because my toe hurt so bad. And the first mile or so was kind of rough. I was running at a weird angle to try to minimize pressure on the blister, which in turn made my ankle feel weird. Fortunately, however, after about a mile we encountered our first gross patch: a calf-deep stream of water to ford that got my feet completely soaked. And miraculously, even though my feet felt swampy and gritty, the pain in my blister subsided soon after that. It disappeared for the rest of the race and hasn't really come back yet. 

Thank god it disappeared, because the course was tough enough without it feeling like someone was holding a hot poker to my big toe. I ran with Brooke and purposely just took it easy and ran her pace. It actually was kind of challenging to keep myself from going faster, particularly on the hills that went on and on for about a mile and a half. Normally I would have actually liked the hills - I tend to do well on hilly courses for some reason, maybe because it works different muscles and gets the heart rate going. I didn't mind walking with Brooke up the hills because I knew the race would be a lot more fun if I did it with someone else, but a tiny little part of me wanted to just put my head down and barrel up the hills full force. Especially when I saw that everyone around me was wheezing and gasping for air, and I wasn't even breathing heavy.  I wanted to feel their level of pain, as weird as that sounds, and I wasn't getting that at the nice slow pace (and walking) Brooke and I were doing.

After the hills came the first mud pit and wall to scale. That was a blast. I had a young Marine help me scale the wall. After the wall came the lake that was probably about 3 swimming pools long. It was a bit difficult for me because I could barely touch the bottom at parts and it was nearly impossible to swim with my shoes on and so many people in the water next to me (I think I kicked the poor guy behind me in the face), but here I was glad I stayed with Brooke, who used to swim and play water polo in high school, because she held my hand and helped pull me through. After the hill came a long stretch of running, followed by another mud pit with  wall to scale (I scaled it by myself this time!) and a nasty muddy tunnel to crawl through and then a steep, steep hill of sheer mud. It was tough to get up - no one was running; everyone was just trying to avoid falling.  Another brief stretch of running and we came to the final, and most fun, obstacle yet: the mud pit you have to swim through. Basically you have to crawl through retched-smelling mud and keep your head below flags for about 100 feet. It was an absolute blast. So gross but so fun. 

Since I had maintained such a slow pace throughout the race I didn't feel like I'd gotten much of a workout in so I sprinted the short distance from the mud pool to the finish line and beat some girl at the last second, with a couple of Marines giving me high-fives for pushing myself at the end (I didn't want to tell them that I was barely out of breath and hadn't pushed myself for the other 99% of the race).  I think I finished around 1:22, which, even with a mud hill and mud pits and a lake of water, is still pretty embarrassing. But I had an absolute blast and can't wait to do it again next year, so who cares what my time was?

Today's workout: 6.2 miles of running, swimming, crawling through muck and loving it.

My damn blister had better cooperate for tomorrow, which is when Operation BQ officially gets underway.