2010 Running Thread

Way to go, Sunshine!  See, just a few days ago you didn't think you could run a mile without stopping.

I managed another 12 miler on Sunday; I should really have run longer to get ready for that 30K, but it was just plain too cold.  Bundling up like the Michelin Man didn't make running any easier.  I ran the first mile super easy, felt great for miles 2-9, started to feel a little weary in mile 10, and then . . . WHOA!  Who flooded the streets with invisible molasses??  That's what it felt like, anyhow, as I struggled to pick up my feet.

But today, I went out in the evening just as the sun was setting and felt terrific. 

Linda

Hi, all . . . just a quick check-in.  Work and travel and snow forced me to tinker with my training schedule for the 30K that's coming up in (gulp) a little over a month, so today was my first really LOOONNNNNG run: just under two and a half hours, calling it 15 miles.  At the end, just about everything hurt a little, but nothing hurt a lot, so that's good. 

You all are so right about the lessons running offers for the rest of life.  I think that running helped me a lot during chemo . . . not just the mental boost I got from jogging (or walk-jogging), but also the knowledge that you can get through stuff you never thought you could get through.  (If that makes sense.)   Even the rhythm of chemo - multiple treatments, each followed by a recovery period - reminded me of running hard repeats. 

Linda

Hi, gd4thesoul.  Your question led me to check my log, and I was surprised to see how quickly I ramped the mileage back up after chemo.  I had my last Taxotere in August 2008, and by the end of September I was doing 40 mile weeks, including a 10-mile long run.  (40-50 mpw was typical pre-cancer mileage for me when I wasn't training for a marathon.)  BUT BUT BUT - by the beginning of December, I was injured (Achilles) and I've been riding the injury merry-go-round ever since.  I'd like to think I'm off it by now, but I'm taking nothing for granted.

It's been easier for me to bring up my mileage (currently back at ~40 mpw) than to bring down my pace.  I'm trying hard not to worry about the latter, but it's a bit discouraging - I totally identify with your frustration.  Running a couple of miles at what used to be easy-run pace leaves me feeling as beat up as a 12x400 track session used to.  I'm actually slower now than I was closer to treatment.  (Of course, if I'd run slower then, I might have avoided injuries and be faster now.)

I have a 5K on Sunday - the race used to be a 4 miler, but for whatever reason, they changed the distance this year.  I would like my 5K finish time to be under my old 4-mile PR, but that's by no means assured. 

Like you, I'm glad I can still run.  It would be nice to be even a little fast again, but in the big scheme of things, I'll take the ability to jog any day.

Linda

c130sunshine - way to go!  It's great to follow your progress: first one mile without stopping (and I bet at the time, you were thinking you could NEVER run ANOTHER mile on top of that one), now two.  Next up: a 5K.

Here's my own race report from today's 5K.  It didn't start until noon, which was merciful, considering that we'd all had to set our clocks ahead last night.  So I had plenty of time to drink coffee, eat Trader Joe brioche (breakfast of champions), look outside at the miserable, rainy weather, and ask myself why on earth I thought registering for this race was a good idea.

I was still asking myself that question - in an increasingly insistent tone - as I drove to the start. 

Actually, I drove to a residential street almost a mile from the start.  Since this race is the warm-up act for a big, rowdy St. Patrick's Day parade, parking is always at a premium.  Plus, if you don't park strategically, you risk getting trapped until the parade is over.

Jogging to the race start to get my bib and shoe tag, then jogging back to the car to doff my jacket and track pants, then jogging back to the start - about 2.5 miles in all - was my warm-up.  I got back just in time for the pre-race costume-judging contest (lots of leprechauns) and lined up in the starting area, hoping the crowd would keep me warm.  (It was in the mid-40s, I'd guess, with a chilly drizzle.)  Once upon a time I would have lined up proudly and confidently and a little arrogantly in the first few rows.  This time, I started a ways back, trying to gage the likely speed of the people around me.  I wound up next to a father-son duo who looked intimidatingly lean and fast.  Should I move farther back?  But then again, the woman next to me was wearing earphones, and the chunky guy in front of me was wearing mardi gras beads.  And on the other side of the fast-looking father and son was a guy wearing a wolf mask.  And well ahead of us was a guy in a chicken hat.

So, I stayed put.  And tried to work myself into a racing (as opposed to, "oh, I'm just running the course for the fun of it") frame of mind. 

The gun goes off, and - nothing.  Then a shuffle.  Then, slowly, we started to run.  I spend the first mile wasting energy while weaving around other runners (including the chunky guy with the mardi gras beads).  I finally move to the center of the street, where there's less congestion and I'm able to settle into a rhythm - until, whoah!  A water station!  Before we've even gone a mile!  And right in the middle of the road!  I'm trying to veer to the right to avoid the volunteers with their outstretched arms, while other runners are trying to veer to the left, to grab water. 

Collisions averted, I make it to the 1 mile mark in 7:36.

The second mile, I'm actually racing, as in: really concentrating on my pace while picking off runners ahead of me (as opposed to simply dodging runners who started way closer to the front than they should have).  There's a 180 degree turn, which slows things down a little, but I'm feeling good as I start the "back" portion of the out and back course.

Mile 2 is 7:32.

In mile 3, I start to fall apart mentally.  I tell myself to hang in there.  I tell myself, there's never been a race where you didn't want to give up and start walking at some point - you just have to get past it.  Focus on your form.  Keep going.

Yeah, right.  My legs are leaden.  My stride feels clumsy, uncoordinated.  Other women are passing me, and I'm letting them go.  I'm looking ahead at the hulking ruin of the Michigan Central train station (the race starts and ends in front of it), and it seems painfully distant.  I give myself permission to slow down.

Then, suddenly, I'm hearing race volunteers calling out "Men to the left!  Women to the right!" and I realize, holy cow, this is it.  An angled turn, and I can see the finish.  I pick it up - the faster I go, the sooner this'll be over - and hear the announcer calling my name.

Watch time: 23:27.  That beat my easy goal of 24:34 (my PR from when the race was billed as a 4 miler, though the year I ran that time, it was clearly short of 4 miles).  It also beat my most recent post-cancer 5K time, from last September, of 23:48.  So, I'm reasonably happy. 

I'm also reasonably confident that I beat the guy in the chicken hat.

Linda

Sunshine, I'm betting you made it through 2.25 miles with no problems.  In my experience, it's that first mile that's the hardest.

Linda