Fartlek... A Humbling Experience

Yesterday evening was "fartlek" runs with the group. It's been 12 hours since we completed the run and I think I've almost got my breathing back to normal. Almost.

Our trainer had us do a structured fartlek run. We warmed up for 10 minutes then ran 30 seconds fast. Recovered for 90 seconds, then run another 30 fast. Recover for 75 seconds, 30 fast. 60 second recovery, 30 fast. 45 second recovery, 30 fast. 30 second recovery, 30 fast. 15 second recovery, 30 fast. Jog it in.

I made it to the 60 second recovery on schedule. Then I fell apart a bit. Although we're supposed to run fast, I think I took it out a little too fast in the opening sprints because my heart was doing things I'm not sure a heart is supposed to do. I ended up taking some longer recovery times and even walking in between some segments--bad!

I'm feeling frustrated. It seems like I'm "cheating" on more of the workouts lately and I can't figure out if it's because I'm physically tired or mentally not there. I think I'd prefer it be physical. I'm starting to worry I've lost a bit of "edge" and am choosing the easy way out versus pushing myself. Everyone was exhausted by fartlek but most did the exercise and made it back without walking. I need to buckle down mentally and start thinking about the marathon. Last year, the race was on my mind almost every day. Probably because I'd never run a marathon before and all the fear and anticipation was fresh. I need to find a way to bring that excitment about the race back to life. 

One way might be to focus on my time. I'm still determined to come in under 4 hours at the Richmond marathon. Which means I really do need to get my mental state under control.

I'm meeting a friend for a trail run tonight and this morning I was thinking about cancelling and just coming home and doing a treadmill workout. I've got work to do, I've still got this cough, I've been away from home all week... But no! I've packed my clothes and will do the 7.5 mile run as planned. No more wimp outs!

Run, Even When You Don't Feel Like It

The schedule for today said six miles. I was thinking four sounded good. If I could get myself out the door.

I felt heavy. Not fat, just very at one with the gravitational pull of the earth. I'd gone to yoga this morning and instead of feeling stretched, I felt coiled and tight.

Lucikly, I have Blair on my side.

"Let's go!" he chirped as I walked in from yoga. "Change into your running clothes."

"I don't wanna grumble-grumble-grumble..." I mumbled in reply. 

He pep talked me all the way to the 1-mile trail loop near our house. "Six laps, easy-peasy," he said. 

Mumble, mumble. Glower.

But once we started... I felt good. Very good. My breath came easy, my muscles loosened, and I felt my mood lightening as I looped around the lake and watched dads showing their kids how to fish and the kids ignoring the dads and basically running full tilt into the water in an attempt to blast the fish to shore.

Blair met me for the final lap and challenged me to push it. We raced up a hill and back to the car where we both tried not to let the other see how pooped we were from the hard finish.

Today was a great example of how doing something I know is good for me, even when I don't want to do it, almost always has its rewards. I feel good, I ran 6 miles, and I'm done for the day.

And as a bonus, I picked up some fishing tips. HERE FISHIE-FISHIE!!!!

Hill Runs

I think running is bringing me closer to God. Specifically, I spend the majority of my running time attempting to bribe my way into God's good favor in the hopes he/she will make the pain go away...

We ran hills last night. There's a .5 mile incline we run and yesterday we did 5 repetitions. I can pull myself through the first and last on sheer motivation. The middle ones present the challenge. That's when I strike up a dialogue with God.

Hill Rep #2: "God? Sorry for the way I look and smell at the moment, but I need to talk to you. Every rational cell in my body is telling me to STOP RUNNING so I need your help getting to the top, okay? Thanks."

Hill Rep #3: "Dear God: Perhaps I wasn't clear in my last missive. I am in freakin' misery down here and am asking for a little help. Nothing much. Just, like, maybe you could give me temporary superhero powers for the next 20 minutes? That would rock. As do you. Much love."

Hill Rep #4: "I will donate all my belongings to charity and minister to the poor every Sunday and never curse again if you will just let me get up this *&$#@**! hill. Aw, crap."

But I made it. We all did. It's soooo much easier doing this with a running group. Misery loves company. And there is nothing like running hills to make you strong for a marathon. It will all pay off in November.

Speedwork... Sucks

No points for originality in today's blog title but I'm much too tired to care. I drove in 8 hours today from Ohio. I'm at a loss how to explain that it took me under 7 hours to drive to Columbus which is further north than Cincinnati and 8 hours to drive home, but whatever.  

I left Trisha's house at 5 am with the hopes of getting home in time for an extended relaxation period before driving into Greensboro for today's track workout. I made it home but rebelled physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually at the thought of getting back in the car, so I did the workout at home on my treadmill.

I hate speedwork. Just... hate it. All running is hard, but speedwork makes me want to throw my body down in the middle of a run and throw a temper tantrum worthy of a 5 year-old denied her favorite toy. "NO! NO! NO! Wahhhh!" is pretty much my mentality.

As I was heaving through a lap, I decided I needed an attitude adjustment and told myself to think of things I hate worse than speedwork. Maybe it was the lactic acid build-up kicking in, but I only came up with poison ivy, the Republican party, and artificial sweetener before I blanked. 

I'm spending tonight trying to catch up on e-mails and paperwork so I can hit the ground running with work projects tomorrow. Much writing to be done. 

Cheers.