details of the run

You know how people post the Garmin recap of their run, and it shows all these perfect splits every mile, and you think, wow, my runs never look like that?  And maybe you think that you are the only person in the world to ever have had a bad run, and probably it is because you have no business even thinking about running a 50 miler...

Okay, maybe that's just what goes through my head, but just in case you have ever found yourself wondering what an "internal" Garmin recap might look like on someone's bad run day, I give you mine from today's 18 miler.  Enjoy.

Mile 1 - Immediately realize I am in trouble for this run and consider tying a rope around Julie to slow her down.  She is feeling great.  She is chatting about all kinds of things.  I hope she doesn't notice I am already quiet.

Mile 2 - Not bad, since it was mostly downhill.  Of course, I obsess about the return trip the entire time.

Mile 3 - I'm trying to figure out ways to put lead in her shoes. 

Mile 4 - The "good" mile.  Did I mention it is a lovely downhill stretch, and only 4 miles in to the run?

Mile 5 - Distract myself with the perfect waterskiing water on the river next to us.  Forget going inward and focusing on technique.  It's all about diversion for me at this point.

Mile 6 - After Julie points out that almonds are an "interesting" food choice, I spend much of this mile cementing in my mind that I should never plan long run food on 4 1/2 hours of sleep.

Mile 7 - Considered hiding in the bushes at a bathroom break, forcing Julie to continue on alone. After starting up again, amused myself by watching a guy riding his bike like a drunkard up the hill we were climbing. Maybe this is a cycling technique I have never heard of?

Mile 8 - It is possible to physically and emotionally hate an electronic device. I spend most of this mile fantasizing the destruction of Julie's mean Garmin, interrupted only by fantasies of calling someone to pick me up.  I'm also ready to cry.  

Mile 9 - The urge to cry clues me in that I need to eat some carbs. Thank god for a bagel shop. I am both annoyed and pleased that the line is moving slowly. Eating a bagel helps tremendously.

Mile 10 - The only time I manage to go fast.  1/4 mile of sprinting to the bottom of the hill that I've been promised we can walk.

Mile 11 - Stupid 'effing hill.  It is possible to think one obsessive thought for an entire mile.

Mile 12 - Math abilities and memory of how far we are going are now gone.  I am extremely pleased that we aren't doing 20 miles, and I just have 7, no 5, no 6 - well some amount of miles left to go.

Mile 13 - We're going flat for awhile now, she tells me.  You know, so it's easy.  Mmm hmm.  Stupid songs are now stuck on repeat in my head.  "All the single ladies, all the single ladies..."

Mile 14 - I return to math problems for amusement.  I have now done 27.5 miles in two days...  I have now done 27.75 miles in two days...my legs can suck it!

Mile 15 - "All the single ladies, all the single ladies..."

Mile 16 - It's official.  I no longer like to run.    

Mile 17 - "This is where it starts to smell bad," Julie mentions.  Of course now I need to walk and take an electrolyte.  That's okay though - I smell worse than the sewer plant she is referring to.  Or maybe she is talking about me...

Mile 18 - The longest darn mile ever.  There is no gas left in the tank.  The guy walking down the sidewalk gives me a look of pity.  I'm happy to take it.  But you know what, by the end of that mile, I love to run again.

reflecting on what social media has done for me

When I began my blogging journey, I had no idea what the process would bring.

I was afraid.

Scared to show myself, scared to share my words, scared to put myself out there. I imagined stalkers and nefarious organizations hunting me down in the night.  There was no end to the litany of reasons I gave myself to never hit "Publish".

Did I mention that I have a vivid imagination?

But even with such an imagination, I never once envisioned that my life would improve from social media, that the connections I would make from Twitter and Dailymile and the blog itself would enrich me in ways I never dreamed.

I still remember the pit of fear in my stomach the first time I let my blog become listed in search engines.

But if I had never hit publish, I would never have had these amazing experiences:

• Running a Ragnar relay with a team I had met via Twitter and having one of the best relay experiences ever
• Meeting dailymile friends in real life at a morning shakeout run and brunch before the Portland marathon
• Helping a Twitter friend complete a 36 mile run for her birthday after pacing the first half of the marathon
• Running the entire Wildwood trail for my birthday with a group of fabulous pdx running chicks
• Making real, local running friends who are willing to meet me at 6 am for a 15 mile training run - midweek!
• Interviewing a cool teacher who was running the 216 mile Cascade Lakes Relay solo and helping him meet his fundraising goals
• Running my first 50k
• Learning about the Pac Rim 24 hour race, signing up to help out, running 35 miles and seeing real life Badwater badass Lisa Bliss run a zillion miles
• Driving, crewing and pacing a group of Twitter friends in their first 100 mile race, while being drenched, cold and muddy - and later learning how much it meant to one of the participants
• Having the chance to help race direct a 10k race, and learning that's not what I want to do!
• Earning 4 stars as a marathon maniac - before I met all these people online, I thought running two marathons in a year was insane

Every so often, I wonder if all of the blogging and tweeting and dailymiling is worth it.  I'll consider going dark - shutting it all down - but then something will happen that reaffirms to me that these things I am doing make my life more interesting.  When I look at this list of experiences I would not have had without the connections I've made via the Internet, I realize just how powerful this tool can be.  Sure, it isn't without risks, but without risk, there is no reward.

portland to coast 2011

Most days I am a runner.

But once a year, I get my racewalk on and participate in the Portland to Coast Relay with my Late for Lattes friends.   Portland to Coast is the sister event to Hood to Coast; we start at leg #13 early Friday morning, and walk 130 miles to the beach - each taking two legs of the journey.  The course is the same as the running version; we just move a bit slower along the way.  

This was my 10th year doing the walk.  I have only ran Hood to Coast once, in 1997, and I found it to be a crowded, crazy adventure.  By contrast, the Portland to Coast offers less crowded exchanges and more time to support your walker along the way.  And since finding a wonderful team, it has been difficult to imagine enjoying the race with anyone else.

Van #1 ready to start.

For the past six years, I had been in Van #2, acting as driver and van captain.  But after selling my minivan this past spring, I was a "free woman"...and we decided to assign legs based on walking pace and distance.  Thus I found myself in Van #1.

Now the tales from van #1 have been legendary.  Dancing at midnight, adventures with other teams, loads of laughs...the list goes on.  Not only that, Van #1 is the one who gets to have their team photo taken post shower...what's not to love?

I should explain that this team was originally formed by dance team members from the local high schools - both dancers and coaches coming together to walk this race.  They hear a song and bust out a routine in unison; it is something to behold.  I did my best to keep up.

We danced early and often.

 We may walk fast, but we also goof around a lot.  Here is our second walker doing her "peel the banana" dance...one we would see all weekend.

As we waited for our walker to pull up to us for water, we realized she had a strange hat on her head.  A vulture hat, saved from being lost along the side of the road.  There was no way this wasn't from another team...and now we had something to ransom!

 The miles ticked off quickly.  We would drive up ahead of the walker, wait for her to pass, offer water, cheers, dances...and then leapfrog ahead.  The clouds quickly lifted and the heat came on like wildfire.

The race vehicle. Our latte cup's foam lights up at night.

Walker 3 passes off to Walker 4

 Before I knew it, my leg was next. 7.13 miles along busy Hwy 30, with no shade and plenty of heat.  I focused on my cadence, counting "1,2,3,4" and trying to keep the beat fast.

My leg was hot. Hot, hot, hot.

 Such relief to hit the exchange.

The hardest part of race walking is getting the leg positioning right.
I actually have correct form here.

 After all six walkers are finished, we hand off to Van #2.  Here we are getting them ready to start.
While they walk, we attempted to rest in a blistering hot field.  Needless to say, there wasn't much sleep to be had.  Mostly I wanted to get going again.

Meeting up with van #2 for our first major exchange.

 After Van #2 finished their legs, they informed us that a major rivalry with Road Kill Grill had started.  Turns out it was their vulture we had found.

"I have yet to go out the sunroof!"

 As evening started to fall, our spirits rose.  We started hooting and hollering at the other walkers, getting punchy as only the tired can.

My second leg left me a bit nervous.  We were getting out in front of all the other teams, and fellow walkers were few and far between.  It was dark (I started walking near midnight), and the section I was walking was a lonely hill.  At one point, I could hear something in the bushes, moving along with me.  I thought about yelling, but instead picked up the pace.  Finally I passed it by.  The extra adrenaline helped me power up the hill.

Kristina and her "babies". We stole a second vulture while parked at an exchange.

We all walked strong on our second legs; by 2 am, we were done with our legs and were headed to the beach cabin for a couple hours of sleep.

Morning breaks on the lake where we slept. So beautiful.

Thankfully we were able to drive right in to Seaside, find a parking spot, and headed to the beach to wait for our walker.  Finishing for most Hood to Coast teams would be nowhere as easy.  We crossed the finish line about 8:40 am.

Heading to the finish.

 Our friends from Road Kill Grill, who had been very fun in the entire vulture-napping incident, finished about the same time.  So of course we had to have a little more fun.  They did let us keep the vulture hats, which will be incorporated into next year's decorations, I'm sure.

A little more heckling before we go.

We spent most of the day in the beer garden, eagerly awaiting our results.

They were well worth the wait.  Turns out we placed 5th in our division, 20th overall, with a 12:12 avg pace. Podium, baby!!

five ways to mess yourself up running

I'm not a coach.  I'm just a runner who has made lots of mistakes in her running.  I have finally seemed to have found a bit of a groove, running injury free for nearly two years.  Here are the lessons I've learned along the way.

1. Run every training run like a race.
When I first started running with any sort of regularity, I would find myself racing my last performance. If I was running a route I had run before, I knew my fastest time on the course, and I would run that training run in such a way that I could set a new PR. Every time.  There weren't easy days; only days that I didn't feel so good.  And that didn't really help my training at all.  It did help me mess up my hips and knees though.

I run a lot of easy runs now.  I will push a run when it feels good, but never in competition with what I've run before.  Most of the time, I don't even have the watch going.  I run by what I feel that day, and that has made a huge difference in keeping me from walking that injury line.

2. Be inflexible with the training plan.
If the plan called for 20 on Saturday, that's what I would run.  Even if I didn't feel good.  Or if the plan called for 20 on Saturday, and my schedule wouldn't work for that, I would just skip the workout entirely.

These days, I don't really have a day to day schedule.  I sketch out in my mind the major workouts I want to hit in the build up to a race, and then I fit those in when I can.  I could be more structured in my approach to training, but I find that less structure works better for me overall.

3. Run through the injury.
So I have stabbing pain every time I step with my right foot...running six miles on that will make me tougher, right?

Nope.

I take a day off right away now when something doesn't feel right.  And I wait until it is feeling better before I start up again.  I ignored this wisdom and few weeks ago and ran when my back didn't feel great; five days later, I could finally run again.  Had I followed my own hard earned advice, I probably would have only lost a day or two.

4. Run your ass off when you've only been training slow.
I recently learned an important lesson about going fast when all you have been doing is training slow.

It hurts.

Not just while you are doing it, but in the muscles that you rarely recruit when most days you are running at a leisurely pace.  If you want to run a really fast pace, you need to train your "really fast" running muscles - the hip flexors and the psoas in particular. Occasional speedwork is crucial in keeping those muscles strong if you are going to want to bust out a run every once in awhile.  I will be incorporating some weekly speed work just in case I want to throw a 5k in to the mix in the upcoming months.

5. Tie your happiness to a performance goal.
This one can be a doozy.  I worked really hard to run a sub four hour marathon at the Rock and Roll Seattle race last year.  I knew heading in to the race that I might have some trouble, since I had been sick during a few key weeks heading in to the race, but I really wanted to nail that goal and "prove" myself as a runner.

I didn't run well.

The first 18 miles were on track, but I fell apart after that...and then for months following.

There were a few weeks when I wasn't sure that I wanted to run anymore.

Slowly I began to change my thinking about running. Was I really going to let it be all about how well I did at a race? Was this the only reason I would lace up my shoes every day? Or could I allow my running to be about the journey over the performance? Could I let myself slow down and enjoy the people, the energy, the moments that make up a race?

The problem with tying your happiness to how well you run is that so many factors can throw you off.  How well you run should be a by-product of your joy and enjoyment of the sport - not the focus.

Learning that has been the best lesson of all.

after the run

after the run,
when your tired shoes huddle together
across the warming air of the register -
and your socks slink off to hide their pungent shame,
when your remaining armor
has been pulled with a grunt -
or lifted gingerly
from your glistening limbs,
and the hot, steaming rain
has lifted the trail from your skin,
once the bands in your legs
have begun to unwind,
after the heaving,
the panting,
the love you made, there
on the shoulder
of the highway,
the neighborhood trail,
the street where you live,
after all this has come to an end -
you sigh,
a knowing smile slipping across your lips
and coming to rest
in your heart.

cascade lakes relay 2011

Once again, the Cascade Lakes Relay proved itself to be one of the most entertaining, tough, and beautiful running experiences of my year.

Evening falls at Diamond Lake. 

We spent the night on the lake, listening to the guitar playing in an adjacent camp. I woke during the night to witness an incredible sky full of stars...

Van #2 enjoys an early morning wake up call to see us off at the start.

The wake up call came at 5 am.  My first run was only an hour and a half away.  A little bit of coffee, a couple of bites of greek yogurt, and I was ready for my 8.5 miles.

First leg.

Of course they are all smiling. They haven't run yet.

We may not be the fastest team in the race, but we just might laugh the most.

Creepy morning fog as Meg kicks ass up the hill.

The fog was incredibly thick that morning.  It was burnt off by 10 am.

Our own superstar.

A lot of dust, a lot of heat.
 

The most brutal leg of the relay is #5. Hot cinder roads, big ass bugs.

But at the end of leg #5 is a beautiful marsh.

Sarah takes off for our final leg of the morning.

 The first set of legs measures 47.5 miles - it is a tough haul out of Diamond Lake.  We enjoyed our rest in Silver Lake, finding the watering hole the first time (I had forgotten the way every other year), hanging out at the fire station doing some yoga, playing juvenile games...

Secret watering hole. So it's an irrigation ditch...

Yoga class.

The locals were fascinated by us.

We headed out on our second set of legs near 8 pm.  The sun was just beginning to set as I ran 7.5 miles down the dusty road.  While the headwind was good for keeping the bugs and dust away, it wasn't so great for my pace.

The sun sets as we begin our second set of legs. We were treated to clear skies full of shooting stars.

Unfortunately, I was not able to capture any good photos of Meg's glow stick running man. He was epic, in a 30 consecutive hours in a van sort of way.  We managed a couple of hours of sleep before it was our turn to run one last time.

I actually turned out my fastest leg on my 3rd go-round; a first for me.

Nothing goes better with a cold river than a Tecate. Even at 9 in the morning.

 We enjoyed the crisp, cool waters of the Deschutes.  This is beautiful country.

The race began to take its toll.

No words needed.

But before we knew it, we were passing off to our teammates and heading to Elk Lake for a dip in the lake.  Our relay was done.

We finished about 5:30 pm, enjoyed a few victory beers, and then headed to our hotel room for some sleep.

At 216.6 miles, the Cascade Lakes Relay is not for the faint of heart.  But it has proven, year after year, to be one of the best running experiences in Oregon.

two schools of thought

I had an experience a few weeks ago that I haven't had in a long time.

I ran fast.

I was part of a team that ran even faster.

Running fast in a tu-tu. It can be done.

We unofficially won the women's race at the Barrel to Keg Relay (except that we were in the wrong division, competing against mixed teams, so it doesn't look that way in the results).

I started having dreams of glory.

You know, the type where training goes perfectly, long runs are fast, and you find yourself running up the giant concrete stairs before your fight with Apollo Creed.  Wait, that was a movie.  But you know what I mean.  Dreams of Boston, flying low, zoom.

That is one way to run.

But there are two schools of thought on this running thing.  One is to run to the point of puking - nearly every time.  Haul ass, take no prisoners, head down, eyes on the prize.  The way to win.

But there is another way.

With joy.  And that has been my experiment of late.  Running more slowly, taking it all in.  Chatting with friends.  Meeting the livestock.  Enjoying the journey as much as the finish line.  Going slowly, smiling, zen.

Which way to run?

Both paths are right.  Both have joy to be discovered in them.  No matter what path you are on, enjoy the day.