I was truly inspired when I chose my blog name, if I do say so myself. Read why:
Good News!! Blisters update: Will take one month to fully heal, looking better, ran three miles last night, first time in a week, in the Nike Pegasuses with the asic tight-fitting socks, and no blister pain, so all cleared for take-off! (It seems that sentence should lend itself to a Dr. Seuss rendering, but who has the time?)
Bad news! Somehow, over past WEEK of NO RUNNING, I developed (are ya ready??): plantar fasciitis.
Effffffffffff me!!!!
Doc taped my foot up and said to leave it taped for a week. He said I could resume running gradually. He actually said (and this is why I like him): "If you were not in training, I'd tell you to take a month off. Since you are in training, I'm gonna tape you up, and get you on your way." He gave me some oxaprozin, a strong version of ibuprofen (note: common side affect is GI upset, not that I ever have any problems of that sort) which should help with the inflammation. "You're keeping me in business!," he joked. Ha. Ha.
So what have I been doing this past week? Well, I couldn't sit around and do nothing, come on people! I'm in training. So, Saturday, two hours on the elliptical (fun!); Monday: one hour spinning (kinda fun! More fun than Saturday!); Tuesday: 45 minutes elliptical (hate elliptical!); Wednesday: Three miles. Running. Outside. Whoooo heeeee!
Tonight, it's back to the track; then I'm off to the beach on Saturday and Sunday, and will try for an 8-miler there.
First, though, I am going to go contemplate the many, many, many ways this could be worse. After I go throw myself a serious pity party; you're all invited!
Cheers!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
I Only Buy It for the Stories
According to this Washington Post article, reading health and fitness magazines, with their attendant photos of lithe, buff models, just basically bums us all out.
So if you MUST read while exercising, stick to magazines that show nothing more exciting than the sex lives of nematodes.
A recently completed study showed that men and women who while exercising had access to magazines featuring images of ultra-fit people reported higher levels of anxiety, depression and tension afterward than before. By comparison, a control group whose reading options were limited to National Geographic reported reduced anxiety and depression—and better overall mood—after the workout.
So if you MUST read while exercising, stick to magazines that show nothing more exciting than the sex lives of nematodes.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Sidetracked & Whacked
The Good News:
Wednesday night was track workout #2. Bex and I decided to go to a track about a mile from work. Naturally, she insisted on running there. (I don’t know where she gets her nutty ideas. Sigh.) So, off we went, around 6 p.m.
The workout was 800 meter repeats, with a 400 recovery (God, I love it when I talk like that). Mr. McMillan put my “cruising pace” for 800 meters (based on my 1:07 10k time) at 5:19 to 5:26, which I dutifully wrote on the back of my hand, so as not to forget it.
Marathon coach suggested I do 4-6 repeats. Assistant marathon coach suggested 5 repeats. You can guess what Bex suggested.
Some of you are saying, 4, 5, 6…what’s the diff? What exactly does 800 meter repeats mean? (I know you are asking these things, because until last week, I was asking them too.)
800 meters is twice around a track. 400 meters, curiously, is once around a track. So, one repeat means: run around the track twice, hitting your goal pace, and then jog slowly around once. Together, that equals one.
It sounds easy, huh?
The night was warm and humid, the sun still high and strong. We jogged slowly over to the local high school track, where neither of us had been before, but managed to find it. The track was ringed with lovely shade trees. We heard songbirds, and felt the hint of a breeze. The grass smelled newly cut, and sprinklers came on and off randomly, sometimes showering the track, sometimes the green. It was positively bucolic.
Two girls were practicing lacrosse at one end. There were about four other people on the track, but we were pretty much on our own.
I ran my first two laps, and I’m pretty sure, although I can’t swear to it, that Bex was done with her six by the time I did my first repeat.
As I passed the lacrosse girls, they had both stopped what they were doing and were watching, slack-jawed, as Bex tore by. One of them said “She is smokin.’’” Yeah.
I ran around twice, and jogged once, and yelled out “ONE”! to help myself remember how many repeats I’d done. By the time I got to three, that hitherto untapped part of my brain had kicked in:
Jeanne’s brain: You did three, just one more and then you can stop. I promise.
Jeanne: OK, four is done. I’m so done! Yay!
Jeanne’s brain: Come on, four is in the bag, five won’t kill you. Do five and then stop.
Jeanne: B..b..but you said four!! Lying $!!$@#!
Jeanne’s Brain: Ass. Marathon Coach did say five. One more equals five and then you can quit. For real this time.
Jeanne: OK, five and that’s it! This is killing me. Killing. Me. Do you hear me??
Jeanne’s Brain: Oh, come on, you just did five. You can surely do six.
Jeanne: F Bex!! And f you too!
So, I’m apparently developing new brain cells.
Results (keeping in mind my goal pace was 5:19 to 5:26):
1st 800: 4:53
rec: 2:50
2nd 800: 5:03
rec: 3:14
3rd 800: 5:10
rec: 3:57
4th 800: 5:09
rec:3:57
5th 800:5:17
rec: 4:28
6th 800: 5:13
rec: a long time, as we strolled back to the car.
(I’m not really sure what this means in terms of anything, but I do grasp that these workouts are supposed to make one faster.)
What I do know is how I felt afterwards. I felt like I’d run 10 miles fast. I felt like I had worked out. I felt good. I felt afterglow. I felt like I almost needed a cigarette!
Now onto the Bad:
Saw Dr. Running-Podiatrist-to-the-Washington-Wizards yesterday. I brought in two pairs of running shoes, assorted socks, and my feet, and laid them all out like a still life. And then I told him I was a woman on the Verge. Do. Not. Mess. With. Me. I had run three miles that morning, and I was hobbling. I reviewed all the things I had tried. And you know what the good doctor said? He said this:
“You need to take a week off running and let those things heal.”
(I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that same advice, um, somewhere before.)
He fiddled some more with the inserts. I told him I wanted my Nike Pegasuses back. He said one week off running, skip tomorrow’s 12-miler, and see him next Friday.
So, tomorrow I will be on the elliptical at 6:30 a.m. for two hours, despite Asst. Coach just this minute having written me a supportive e-mail in which she said:
I had asked—begged—for a schedule for next week. Asst. coach said “maybe run 4 miles next Thursday and then 10 on Saturday" (instead of the 14 on the schedule). Something tells me these m%$@!s will not be fully healed by then, especially since the foot guy wants to “clean ‘em up” next Friday.
Asst. Coach did ask if I swam: I do, but not hard enough to make it an aerobic workout.
Well, enough about me and blister-mania.
Here’s my ten top reasons why this is not the end of my running career:
10. This could be happening two weeks out from marathon day, instead of 18 weeks.
9. It could be a fracture I’m battling.
8. I could have pooped in my pants again during tomorrow’s run.
7. I get to try new, fun stuff next week!
6. Like two hours on the elliptical.
5. Which isn’t the same as running, just so you know.
4. But I am getting my butt on it early Saturday morning, just to prove I am HARDCORE.
3. There’s always spinning.
2. I’m young (????)
1. I hate this; I am now going to be hopelessly behind.
Wednesday night was track workout #2. Bex and I decided to go to a track about a mile from work. Naturally, she insisted on running there. (I don’t know where she gets her nutty ideas. Sigh.) So, off we went, around 6 p.m.
The workout was 800 meter repeats, with a 400 recovery (God, I love it when I talk like that). Mr. McMillan put my “cruising pace” for 800 meters (based on my 1:07 10k time) at 5:19 to 5:26, which I dutifully wrote on the back of my hand, so as not to forget it.
Marathon coach suggested I do 4-6 repeats. Assistant marathon coach suggested 5 repeats. You can guess what Bex suggested.
Some of you are saying, 4, 5, 6…what’s the diff? What exactly does 800 meter repeats mean? (I know you are asking these things, because until last week, I was asking them too.)
800 meters is twice around a track. 400 meters, curiously, is once around a track. So, one repeat means: run around the track twice, hitting your goal pace, and then jog slowly around once. Together, that equals one.
It sounds easy, huh?
The night was warm and humid, the sun still high and strong. We jogged slowly over to the local high school track, where neither of us had been before, but managed to find it. The track was ringed with lovely shade trees. We heard songbirds, and felt the hint of a breeze. The grass smelled newly cut, and sprinklers came on and off randomly, sometimes showering the track, sometimes the green. It was positively bucolic.
Two girls were practicing lacrosse at one end. There were about four other people on the track, but we were pretty much on our own.
I ran my first two laps, and I’m pretty sure, although I can’t swear to it, that Bex was done with her six by the time I did my first repeat.
As I passed the lacrosse girls, they had both stopped what they were doing and were watching, slack-jawed, as Bex tore by. One of them said “She is smokin.’’” Yeah.
I ran around twice, and jogged once, and yelled out “ONE”! to help myself remember how many repeats I’d done. By the time I got to three, that hitherto untapped part of my brain had kicked in:
Jeanne’s brain: You did three, just one more and then you can stop. I promise.
Jeanne: OK, four is done. I’m so done! Yay!
Jeanne’s brain: Come on, four is in the bag, five won’t kill you. Do five and then stop.
Jeanne: B..b..but you said four!! Lying $!!$@#!
Jeanne’s Brain: Ass. Marathon Coach did say five. One more equals five and then you can quit. For real this time.
Jeanne: OK, five and that’s it! This is killing me. Killing. Me. Do you hear me??
Jeanne’s Brain: Oh, come on, you just did five. You can surely do six.
Jeanne: F Bex!! And f you too!
So, I’m apparently developing new brain cells.
Results (keeping in mind my goal pace was 5:19 to 5:26):
1st 800: 4:53
rec: 2:50
2nd 800: 5:03
rec: 3:14
3rd 800: 5:10
rec: 3:57
4th 800: 5:09
rec:3:57
5th 800:5:17
rec: 4:28
6th 800: 5:13
rec: a long time, as we strolled back to the car.
(I’m not really sure what this means in terms of anything, but I do grasp that these workouts are supposed to make one faster.)
What I do know is how I felt afterwards. I felt like I’d run 10 miles fast. I felt like I had worked out. I felt good. I felt afterglow. I felt like I almost needed a cigarette!
Now onto the Bad:
Saw Dr. Running-Podiatrist-to-the-Washington-Wizards yesterday. I brought in two pairs of running shoes, assorted socks, and my feet, and laid them all out like a still life. And then I told him I was a woman on the Verge. Do. Not. Mess. With. Me. I had run three miles that morning, and I was hobbling. I reviewed all the things I had tried. And you know what the good doctor said? He said this:
“You need to take a week off running and let those things heal.”
(I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that same advice, um, somewhere before.)
He fiddled some more with the inserts. I told him I wanted my Nike Pegasuses back. He said one week off running, skip tomorrow’s 12-miler, and see him next Friday.
So, tomorrow I will be on the elliptical at 6:30 a.m. for two hours, despite Asst. Coach just this minute having written me a supportive e-mail in which she said:
...the elliptical just isn't the same... sorry...
I had asked—begged—for a schedule for next week. Asst. coach said “maybe run 4 miles next Thursday and then 10 on Saturday" (instead of the 14 on the schedule). Something tells me these m%$@!s will not be fully healed by then, especially since the foot guy wants to “clean ‘em up” next Friday.
Asst. Coach did ask if I swam: I do, but not hard enough to make it an aerobic workout.
Well, enough about me and blister-mania.
Here’s my ten top reasons why this is not the end of my running career:
10. This could be happening two weeks out from marathon day, instead of 18 weeks.
9. It could be a fracture I’m battling.
8. I could have pooped in my pants again during tomorrow’s run.
7. I get to try new, fun stuff next week!
6. Like two hours on the elliptical.
5. Which isn’t the same as running, just so you know.
4. But I am getting my butt on it early Saturday morning, just to prove I am HARDCORE.
3. There’s always spinning.
2. I’m young (????)
1. I hate this; I am now going to be hopelessly behind.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
G Is for Gross (not for General Audiences)
STOP READING NOW, unless you have a strong stomach.
This morning was my weekly long run with the DC Road Runners, 12.5 miles, starting at Iwo Jima Memorial, running thru scenic downtown D.C., past all the momuments, up past the Capitol Building, all the way to RFK stadium and back. My marathon "group" joins the DCRR weekly Saturday long runs for our long runs. For me, there's no real group. I started the run with the woman I was the Good Egg to last week, but I had already decided I was running my own pace this week. (She ended up dropping out.) We were both last for the first 2 miles, and then she fell behind me. I could see one other woman ahead of me, who was walk/running, so I caught up with her every 10 minutes or so.
Other than that gal, who soon lost me, too, I was on my own. (Well, me and 10 million tourists.)
So, right around mile 3, I noticed a certain urge.
No portapotties anywhere that I could see, and the Smithsonian wouldn't open for several hours.
Suck it up, I told myself. Distract self.
So, I did. I ran up Capitol Hill, to RFK Stadium, the turnaround, guzzling water along the way. At six miles I took 3 Clif Blocks (fatal error? jury still out).
Things were getting serious. I ran past the Supreme Court, the Library of Congress, the Capitol. Not the kind of places to welcome a sweaty runner with an urgent need with open arms. They're funny that way.
I was now consumed with finding a bathroom, a tree, a tent, anything. I had but one goal, and one goal only. And it was not finishing a 12.5 mile run in any number of minutes.
This is where it got fun. I jogged from museum to museum. No luck. I ran off course to the National Mall where the National Folklife Festival was being set up and where I finally spied a portapotty; I ran like hell towards it ... only to find it was locked. I nearly wept. (Tell me, please, what kind of maniac LOCKS a portapotty??? What is there INSIDE that is worth stealing? @!$!~!!!!)
Onward, onward. I still thought I had some time. (Ha.) I knew there were three of the most disgusting portapotties on earth at the base of the Washington Monument. And when they came into view, I hurtled over little old ladies, pushed through groups of people stopping to take video of the stationary Washington Monument (it's not like it's gonna up and do a dance or anything!) and ran over mothers pushing strollers, to get into the only open john.
That's when I discovered that my body had gone on ahead without my knowledge, or consent. It had done what needed doing.
How did I not know this? Well, I had lycra shorts on, so I guess...oh, who the hell knows?? What I do know is at mile 9ish, I was stuck in the smelliest, most disgusting portapotty with...how do I say this delicately? Well, my shorts were full!
Oh the humanity!
I had to strip, throw out undergarments, use water bottle to clean self, clean shorts ...oh. my. dear. god.
And then?? And then I had to put those now befouled, sweaty, wet lycra shorts back on, up over my new WRIGHT SOCKS, leaving, um, traces, requiring more squirting of water from bottle, and endless rubbing with toliet paper...
Oh the humanity!
All this while I was frying to death in this hell-hole ... with people pounding on the door every two seconds, just to add to the excitement!
At some point, the ridiculous-ness of the situation hit me. I mean really. What does one do in this situation? Where are the books on THIS?!?
And, as though that wasn't horrifying enough, after getting reasonably clean (not really: I was a mess), I then had to run four more miles. Sigh.
The good news? I totally forgot all about the pain from my blisters!! And that's the end of the good news roundup!
Have you ever run four miles in wet smelly befouled lycra shorts? No??
Yeah.
I am proud (yes, I am claiming proudness; I have some dignity left) to say that I ran the entire way back to Iwo Jima. Where I was indeed the very last runner to come in. I figure I spent about 15 minutes in the bowels of hell (get it?!) so I'm guessing my time would have been about 2:30ish. Which is pretty damn good, all things considered.
After much disinfecting of body, clothes, car, and anything else I touched, I spent the rest of my Saturday carefully examining my diet, and consulting Dr. Internet, who helped me narrow the cause: I used milk on cereal on Friday and Saturday mornings. I haven't had milk in years. I only drink soy milk, but we were out, so ...
Lesson learned!
This morning was my weekly long run with the DC Road Runners, 12.5 miles, starting at Iwo Jima Memorial, running thru scenic downtown D.C., past all the momuments, up past the Capitol Building, all the way to RFK stadium and back. My marathon "group" joins the DCRR weekly Saturday long runs for our long runs. For me, there's no real group. I started the run with the woman I was the Good Egg to last week, but I had already decided I was running my own pace this week. (She ended up dropping out.) We were both last for the first 2 miles, and then she fell behind me. I could see one other woman ahead of me, who was walk/running, so I caught up with her every 10 minutes or so.
Other than that gal, who soon lost me, too, I was on my own. (Well, me and 10 million tourists.)
So, right around mile 3, I noticed a certain urge.
No portapotties anywhere that I could see, and the Smithsonian wouldn't open for several hours.
Suck it up, I told myself. Distract self.
So, I did. I ran up Capitol Hill, to RFK Stadium, the turnaround, guzzling water along the way. At six miles I took 3 Clif Blocks (fatal error? jury still out).
Things were getting serious. I ran past the Supreme Court, the Library of Congress, the Capitol. Not the kind of places to welcome a sweaty runner with an urgent need with open arms. They're funny that way.
I was now consumed with finding a bathroom, a tree, a tent, anything. I had but one goal, and one goal only. And it was not finishing a 12.5 mile run in any number of minutes.
This is where it got fun. I jogged from museum to museum. No luck. I ran off course to the National Mall where the National Folklife Festival was being set up and where I finally spied a portapotty; I ran like hell towards it ... only to find it was locked. I nearly wept. (Tell me, please, what kind of maniac LOCKS a portapotty??? What is there INSIDE that is worth stealing? @!$!~!!!!)
Onward, onward. I still thought I had some time. (Ha.) I knew there were three of the most disgusting portapotties on earth at the base of the Washington Monument. And when they came into view, I hurtled over little old ladies, pushed through groups of people stopping to take video of the stationary Washington Monument (it's not like it's gonna up and do a dance or anything!) and ran over mothers pushing strollers, to get into the only open john.
That's when I discovered that my body had gone on ahead without my knowledge, or consent. It had done what needed doing.
How did I not know this? Well, I had lycra shorts on, so I guess...oh, who the hell knows?? What I do know is at mile 9ish, I was stuck in the smelliest, most disgusting portapotty with...how do I say this delicately? Well, my shorts were full!
Oh the humanity!
I had to strip, throw out undergarments, use water bottle to clean self, clean shorts ...oh. my. dear. god.
And then?? And then I had to put those now befouled, sweaty, wet lycra shorts back on, up over my new WRIGHT SOCKS, leaving, um, traces, requiring more squirting of water from bottle, and endless rubbing with toliet paper...
Oh the humanity!
All this while I was frying to death in this hell-hole ... with people pounding on the door every two seconds, just to add to the excitement!
At some point, the ridiculous-ness of the situation hit me. I mean really. What does one do in this situation? Where are the books on THIS?!?
And, as though that wasn't horrifying enough, after getting reasonably clean (not really: I was a mess), I then had to run four more miles. Sigh.
The good news? I totally forgot all about the pain from my blisters!! And that's the end of the good news roundup!
Have you ever run four miles in wet smelly befouled lycra shorts? No??
Yeah.
I am proud (yes, I am claiming proudness; I have some dignity left) to say that I ran the entire way back to Iwo Jima. Where I was indeed the very last runner to come in. I figure I spent about 15 minutes in the bowels of hell (get it?!) so I'm guessing my time would have been about 2:30ish. Which is pretty damn good, all things considered.
After much disinfecting of body, clothes, car, and anything else I touched, I spent the rest of my Saturday carefully examining my diet, and consulting Dr. Internet, who helped me narrow the cause: I used milk on cereal on Friday and Saturday mornings. I haven't had milk in years. I only drink soy milk, but we were out, so ...
Lesson learned!
Friday, June 16, 2006
New Kid on the Blog, and Tracking
The Race Athlete Performance Network, just launched by Everyman Triathlete, features some great writing, on all your fav sports, by some of your fav authors, including a. maria and our resident foot man, Bold, among others. Check it out.
***
In other exciting news, I, as usual, ignored the excellent advice many of you gave me to stop running and let those things on my feet (I refuse to use the "B" word anymore) actually heal, because, well, let's face it, I'm not so smart. So Wednesday night was "track night" on the schedule, and as I said, because I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I headed over to the track for my first-ever track workout!! And now I know what this means: 8x400, with 100 recovery. Oh, the things I'm learning from this sport!
One of the DCRoad Runner coaches took pity on me and took me around the track and 'splained it all to me...I had previously looked up what my "cruising time" for 400 meters should be on the most excellent McMillan running calculator. Between 2:39 and 2:43 it said. I duly noted that, and then wrote it on the back of my hand, because who can remember all those numbers? For good measure, I added "x 8" because for first-time trackers, eight repeats was recommended (everyone else was doing 16. God bless 'em).
I warmed up, and then we were off. I had really no idea what to expect, but was warned not to go too fast (my fav instructions, no problem!) Except, I did the first 400 in 2:05, and the second in 2:15, and the third in 2:20. It got harder, yes it did. And I had to use "psychology" to get myself to do this thing eight times. Like, I had to talk to myself: "If you can do it four times, surely you can do five," I said. And then "OK, you can stop after six." And: "Well, if you can do six, you can absolutely do seven." And finally: "What the hell, you did seven, just one more and you're done!"
Yay me. I would proudly list all my times here except that someone decided to be friendly and talk to me and of course I hit the CLEAR WORKOUT button on my watch because I was distracted and had no blood left in brain, and poof! All gone.
It's OK though. I did it, and I want to do it again.
***
In other exciting news, I, as usual, ignored the excellent advice many of you gave me to stop running and let those things on my feet (I refuse to use the "B" word anymore) actually heal, because, well, let's face it, I'm not so smart. So Wednesday night was "track night" on the schedule, and as I said, because I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I headed over to the track for my first-ever track workout!! And now I know what this means: 8x400, with 100 recovery. Oh, the things I'm learning from this sport!
One of the DCRoad Runner coaches took pity on me and took me around the track and 'splained it all to me...I had previously looked up what my "cruising time" for 400 meters should be on the most excellent McMillan running calculator. Between 2:39 and 2:43 it said. I duly noted that, and then wrote it on the back of my hand, because who can remember all those numbers? For good measure, I added "x 8" because for first-time trackers, eight repeats was recommended (everyone else was doing 16. God bless 'em).
I warmed up, and then we were off. I had really no idea what to expect, but was warned not to go too fast (my fav instructions, no problem!) Except, I did the first 400 in 2:05, and the second in 2:15, and the third in 2:20. It got harder, yes it did. And I had to use "psychology" to get myself to do this thing eight times. Like, I had to talk to myself: "If you can do it four times, surely you can do five," I said. And then "OK, you can stop after six." And: "Well, if you can do six, you can absolutely do seven." And finally: "What the hell, you did seven, just one more and you're done!"
Yay me. I would proudly list all my times here except that someone decided to be friendly and talk to me and of course I hit the CLEAR WORKOUT button on my watch because I was distracted and had no blood left in brain, and poof! All gone.
It's OK though. I did it, and I want to do it again.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
85
Who knew? Who knew there was this cabal of runners hobbled with blisters? Well, it's out in the open now, people. So far today I've seen foot p0rn here, here, and here. Coincidence? I think not.
As usual, the RBF comes thru in spades. I have suggestions for bunion blister cures coming outta my ears. And I will try each and every one of them until something takes. Or until I maim my podiatrist-to-the-stars (the stars being the Washington Wizards. On my last visit, Dr. P. told me a long story about how he had to stitch up a gash in the eye of one of the Wizards. I found that oddly reassuring. For when I fall on my face.)
On this morning's six-miler, I tried Dawn's cure of Blister Bandaids. After one day, BB's were a no go. But I'm gonna give 'em a good workout this week, Dawn.
Moving on: Let's talk more about my feet.
Our man Bolder has taken an avid—and I must say most flattering—interest in them, (having had—and overcome—a similar problem—let's just be crystal clear about that) and he sent me a suggestion that had nothing to do with potions, lotions, or footwear. Instead, it's all about stride:
So, this morning I counted my right foot strikes for one minute: 85. Not quite optimal, but not crappy either.
But wait! Here's more from Mr. B.: He writes that while "winding down the weekend," reading this excerpt from Runners World (July 2006, p. 44), he thought of me:
So, less bounce, more footsteps, shorter strides, low-to-ground, imaginary ceiling above head: check!
And the sock trials continue.
As usual, the RBF comes thru in spades. I have suggestions for bunion blister cures coming outta my ears. And I will try each and every one of them until something takes. Or until I maim my podiatrist-to-the-stars (the stars being the Washington Wizards. On my last visit, Dr. P. told me a long story about how he had to stitch up a gash in the eye of one of the Wizards. I found that oddly reassuring. For when I fall on my face.)
On this morning's six-miler, I tried Dawn's cure of Blister Bandaids. After one day, BB's were a no go. But I'm gonna give 'em a good workout this week, Dawn.
Moving on: Let's talk more about my feet.
Our man Bolder has taken an avid—and I must say most flattering—interest in them, (having had—and overcome—a similar problem—let's just be crystal clear about that) and he sent me a suggestion that had nothing to do with potions, lotions, or footwear. Instead, it's all about stride:
The simple concept behind 'strides' is that a runner's normal cadence is low, and inefficient. When you are running, count your left-foot strikes for a minute. Optimal is around 95... most people stride around 70...trying to turn over more stride will force you to shorten the length of your stride and all kinds of good things will happen with it. For you, you should see less pronation, and less blistering because of reduced foot impact and movement.
So, this morning I counted my right foot strikes for one minute: 85. Not quite optimal, but not crappy either.
But wait! Here's more from Mr. B.: He writes that while "winding down the weekend," reading this excerpt from Runners World (July 2006, p. 44), he thought of me:
Another way to look at how a low cadence manifests itself by having 'too much' bounce in your stride:
Q: My running friends say I have "too much bounce in my stride"... how can I change that?
A: Bounce, or vertical lift, causes your head and body to move up and down too much, wasting precious energy. The longer you're in the air between steps, the more you decelerate. Your quadriceps will fatigue more quickly, too.
To minimize bounce, run lightly—low to the ground with shorter strides, which will increase your cadence (or your steps per minute). Try imagining that you're running below a ceiling that's just inches above your head. Land with each foot-strike as a quick touchdown below your knees. Take more than 90 right-foot steps (180 total steps) per minute, and lean slightly forward so your shoulders are ahead of your hips. Keep your elbows bent at about 90 degrees through the
arm swing, as unhinging the elbows encourages upward motion.
—Bobby McGee, a biomechanist in Boulder, CO has coached beginner and Olympic runners and is the author of Magical Running
So, less bounce, more footsteps, shorter strides, low-to-ground, imaginary ceiling above head: check!
And the sock trials continue.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
I Am a Good Egg
Is it possible I haven't blogged since TUESDAY?? And somehow you have all muddled through without me? Nicely done!
This morning was my first training run with the DCRoad Runners. A 10-miler. The plan, which I will post later, so you can all sympathize with me, calls for five days a week of running, including a "semi-long" tempo run on Mondays, and a track workout on Wednesday nights.
This morning was the third time in my life that I'd run 10 miles. I was almost dead last. Well I was dead last for three miles. But that's ok! I was running at an 11:15 min pace, which beats last summer's running (more like 14 min. mile pace), so I was good! At 7 a.m., we started out across the lovely Potomac River and then ran along the nice flat C&O canal. Lots of wildlife out, and early-morning mist hovering above the river. Quite bucolic.
I was listening to "The No. One Ladies Detective Agency," a very sweet book. I could still actually see the runners in front of me, so OK. At mile three, I caught one of them. I turned off the book and chatted up this chick who was already struggling. Turns out she'd run two marathons before, coming in at 5:00 and 5:15, but hadn't run for a while. So this 10-miler was her first run in months. Plus, she had no gu with her, hadn't got enough sleep last night, or bothered hydrating. Sigh.
Being the Good Egg that I am, I slowed down for her. And ran slower than I could have for the next seven miles. And gave her some Clif Blocks. And when she told me I could go on ahead, I said "No way, I'm not gonna leave you." Which is when I got told, "You're a good egg."
So, yay me!
Right? I mean, I wasn't gonna break any records, so what did it hurt me to hang back and help her out?
(But next week: I am running my own pace. There are limits to the whole good egg thing.)
So, happy ending: I wasn't dead last. I was second to last. This chick was last. And happy ending: Except for my $@#!$~ blisters, I could have easily gone farther.
Now, onto other news:
Blister Update and Sock Roundup (Warning: Contains graphic images)
Someone (who lives in Colorado) has been hounding me incessantly (OK, once) to write a "sock review" since you all so gallantly came forth with wisdom and suggestions when the blister imbroglio erupted.
So, here it is already. Although it's really hard to compare socks. There are just too many variables—Body Glide? or Vaseline? Did I run long or short? Fast or slow? Hills or flat? Oh, and throw in a visit to the podiatrist, who did some minor surgery on me and my inserts—and the staff here at MCM headquarters just haven't the time for this controlled study stuff. (Still, I do live inside the Beltway. So I must know all about data manipulation.)
Week One: Balega (not Beluga, tha's a whole'nother thing). Worn mostly with vaseline smeared feet, although sometimes BodyGlide was used. Some long runs, some short.
Verdict: Blisters still there, slightly lessened. Could be due to the socks, or the new Brooks Adrenalines, or me poking myself with hot needles (sure, scoff now, but one day you'll see the allure!). New blister busy developing on bottom of right foot. $@!#@$
Week Two: I rustled up some leftover Wrights from last year, even though I wanted to try the Coolmax Wrights, but the store was out of them, otherwise they would have gone right on the Visa. Spare no expense when it comes to blister remedies.
Wore the Wrights for a week.
Verdict: Blisters lessened. Hot spot developing on ball of right foot seems to have disappeared. Is it the socks? Or the podiatrist, who gave me more cushioning? Or the incessant stabbing of self with hot needles? Who knows?
Week Three, Day One (this morning, actually): My running store guy showed me these last night, and it was love at first feel:
Asics Kayano
Look! They are even labelled "L" and "R" so that you don't get confused! They fit like a glove, and have extra padding right where I need it. (Or at least they are colored gray so that they look like they have extra padding right where I need it.)
I took 'em out for a test drive this morning.
Verdict:
Ouuuuuchhhh.
Verdict: We will bravely carry on. Until. We. Have. The. Answer.
This morning was my first training run with the DCRoad Runners. A 10-miler. The plan, which I will post later, so you can all sympathize with me, calls for five days a week of running, including a "semi-long" tempo run on Mondays, and a track workout on Wednesday nights.
This morning was the third time in my life that I'd run 10 miles. I was almost dead last. Well I was dead last for three miles. But that's ok! I was running at an 11:15 min pace, which beats last summer's running (more like 14 min. mile pace), so I was good! At 7 a.m., we started out across the lovely Potomac River and then ran along the nice flat C&O canal. Lots of wildlife out, and early-morning mist hovering above the river. Quite bucolic.
I was listening to "The No. One Ladies Detective Agency," a very sweet book. I could still actually see the runners in front of me, so OK. At mile three, I caught one of them. I turned off the book and chatted up this chick who was already struggling. Turns out she'd run two marathons before, coming in at 5:00 and 5:15, but hadn't run for a while. So this 10-miler was her first run in months. Plus, she had no gu with her, hadn't got enough sleep last night, or bothered hydrating. Sigh.
Being the Good Egg that I am, I slowed down for her. And ran slower than I could have for the next seven miles. And gave her some Clif Blocks. And when she told me I could go on ahead, I said "No way, I'm not gonna leave you." Which is when I got told, "You're a good egg."
So, yay me!
Right? I mean, I wasn't gonna break any records, so what did it hurt me to hang back and help her out?
(But next week: I am running my own pace. There are limits to the whole good egg thing.)
So, happy ending: I wasn't dead last. I was second to last. This chick was last. And happy ending: Except for my $@#!$~ blisters, I could have easily gone farther.
Now, onto other news:
Blister Update and Sock Roundup (Warning: Contains graphic images)
Someone (who lives in Colorado) has been hounding me incessantly (OK, once) to write a "sock review" since you all so gallantly came forth with wisdom and suggestions when the blister imbroglio erupted.
So, here it is already. Although it's really hard to compare socks. There are just too many variables—Body Glide? or Vaseline? Did I run long or short? Fast or slow? Hills or flat? Oh, and throw in a visit to the podiatrist, who did some minor surgery on me and my inserts—and the staff here at MCM headquarters just haven't the time for this controlled study stuff. (Still, I do live inside the Beltway. So I must know all about data manipulation.)
Week One: Balega (not Beluga, tha's a whole'nother thing). Worn mostly with vaseline smeared feet, although sometimes BodyGlide was used. Some long runs, some short.
Verdict: Blisters still there, slightly lessened. Could be due to the socks, or the new Brooks Adrenalines, or me poking myself with hot needles (sure, scoff now, but one day you'll see the allure!). New blister busy developing on bottom of right foot. $@!#@$
Week Two: I rustled up some leftover Wrights from last year, even though I wanted to try the Coolmax Wrights, but the store was out of them, otherwise they would have gone right on the Visa. Spare no expense when it comes to blister remedies.
Wore the Wrights for a week.
Verdict: Blisters lessened. Hot spot developing on ball of right foot seems to have disappeared. Is it the socks? Or the podiatrist, who gave me more cushioning? Or the incessant stabbing of self with hot needles? Who knows?
Week Three, Day One (this morning, actually): My running store guy showed me these last night, and it was love at first feel:
Asics KayanoLook! They are even labelled "L" and "R" so that you don't get confused! They fit like a glove, and have extra padding right where I need it. (Or at least they are colored gray so that they look like they have extra padding right where I need it.)
I took 'em out for a test drive this morning.
Verdict:
Ouuuuuchhhh.
Verdict: We will bravely carry on. Until. We. Have. The. Answer.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Lie to Me, Please
Interesting news over at the WaPo on Performance-Enhancing Placebos.
As reported last month by the American Council on Exercise, a study conducted by a University of Wisconsin-La Crosse exercise physiology graduate student "showed that runners clocked faster 5-K times after drinking what they thought was super-oxygenated water, but in fact was tap water."
Tee-hee!
The study "was designed to determine whether a person's belief that he had used one of the new products might have a placebo effect."
Guess what? "Sure enough, 27 of the 32 people [in the study] ran faster—an average of 83 seconds quicker—after downing the phony pint than after drinking the regular bottled water."
The data suggests that "less-experienced (or at least less-skilled) runners are easier to fool into performing better."
So please, I'm beggin' ya, bring on the magic potions—bottled oxygen, whatever!— to convince me I can and will run faster.
As reported last month by the American Council on Exercise, a study conducted by a University of Wisconsin-La Crosse exercise physiology graduate student "showed that runners clocked faster 5-K times after drinking what they thought was super-oxygenated water, but in fact was tap water."
Tee-hee!
The study "was designed to determine whether a person's belief that he had used one of the new products might have a placebo effect."
Guess what? "Sure enough, 27 of the 32 people [in the study] ran faster—an average of 83 seconds quicker—after downing the phony pint than after drinking the regular bottled water."
The data suggests that "less-experienced (or at least less-skilled) runners are easier to fool into performing better."
So please, I'm beggin' ya, bring on the magic potions—bottled oxygen, whatever!— to convince me I can and will run faster.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Nine Point Five
My official marathon training with the DC Road Runners starts next Saturday, June 10. DCRR suggests that, before joining its marathon program, "runners should be able to complete a 10-mile run with weekly mileage of 25 miles per week."
Well, I'm not quite hitting the 25-miles-per-week mark, and I've only run 10 miles once, but Max, the guy who runs the program, said it would be good if I could get in at least an 8-mile run by next Saturday.
So of course that meant I had to run 10 miles today, not eight. Because if you're going to run four miles and turn around, well, why not run five? This is how I think.
I got up at 6:00; Number One Daughter was also headed out early, laden with homemade cookies, to Camden, New Jersey, to see the BF compete in the IRA Nationals, the "oldest collegiate rowing championship in the United States." It took the same amount of time for her to drive from D.C. to Camden as it took me to run 9.5 miles. Something about that is not right.
I ran on the Capital Crescent trail, which was largely empty for the first hour, then taken over by Team in Training. I didn't mind, it was nice to have company on this dreary, coolish, drizzly day.
When I got to 4.5 miles, the bargaining began. "Nine miles is perfectly reasonable. Jumping from seven to nine in one week is much smarter than jumping from seven to 10." Yes, it is. So I turned and headed back.
Aside from my heart racing for the first four miles, I felt fine. I knew I had a blister developing on the bottom of my right foot (yes, new place, thanks to new shoes). I had been trying to put it out of my mind, but I guess it bothered me more than I realized, because:
Right around mile five, someone running in the opposite direction stopped suddenly and said "Are you Jeanne? The one with the blog?" Wow!!! This is what being famous must be like! I said yes, and asked who she was and she said "annonymous" mostly, but turns out her name is Karen (yes, Karen, you have been OUTED!!!). I asked how did she recognize me, and she was too polite to say, well, you wear the exact same outfit in every photo, so it wasn't hard. Then, I'm pretty sure K. said something about how she actually likes reading this thing.
And what did I say back to her? Did I say, awww thanks? No, because that would be normal. What I actually said was something like this: "Well, it's funny you should say that, because I was just this minute thinking maybe I could stop running entirely and just shut down the blog."
Nice.
Anonymous K. looked slightly stricken, until I said no, no I'm just kidding!! har-de-har. K. was quickly on her way after that.
So I ask you, people: What the HELL is wrong with me? Why is there absolutely no filter between what I'm thinking and what comes outta my mouth??
Sigh.
So K., if you're still reading this (although why would you be, really?) what I meant to say was: Hey, thanks for reading and for saying hi, and especially for saying something nice!
Because my next thought after your nice comment was: Hey, this running thing is great!! And (of course), I can't wait to blog this!
Here are the stats on today's run:
1: 11:31
2: 11:22
3: 11:03
4: 11:15
5: 12:09 (water and my fan club—K.—stopping to talk)
6: 11:04
7: 11:45 (water stop)
8: 11:56 (right foot is busy bursting into flames)
9: 10:46 (bring it on home, sistah!)
And if you can run nine miles, you can surely run at least 1/2 mile more, foot afire or not, so:
.5: 5:34
Total time for 9.5 miles: 1:48:31, avg: 11:25 min/miles.
And K., don't be afraid to say hi again next time. I swear I'm normal. No, really.
Well, I'm not quite hitting the 25-miles-per-week mark, and I've only run 10 miles once, but Max, the guy who runs the program, said it would be good if I could get in at least an 8-mile run by next Saturday.
So of course that meant I had to run 10 miles today, not eight. Because if you're going to run four miles and turn around, well, why not run five? This is how I think.
I got up at 6:00; Number One Daughter was also headed out early, laden with homemade cookies, to Camden, New Jersey, to see the BF compete in the IRA Nationals, the "oldest collegiate rowing championship in the United States." It took the same amount of time for her to drive from D.C. to Camden as it took me to run 9.5 miles. Something about that is not right.
I ran on the Capital Crescent trail, which was largely empty for the first hour, then taken over by Team in Training. I didn't mind, it was nice to have company on this dreary, coolish, drizzly day.
When I got to 4.5 miles, the bargaining began. "Nine miles is perfectly reasonable. Jumping from seven to nine in one week is much smarter than jumping from seven to 10." Yes, it is. So I turned and headed back.
Aside from my heart racing for the first four miles, I felt fine. I knew I had a blister developing on the bottom of my right foot (yes, new place, thanks to new shoes). I had been trying to put it out of my mind, but I guess it bothered me more than I realized, because:
Right around mile five, someone running in the opposite direction stopped suddenly and said "Are you Jeanne? The one with the blog?" Wow!!! This is what being famous must be like! I said yes, and asked who she was and she said "annonymous" mostly, but turns out her name is Karen (yes, Karen, you have been OUTED!!!). I asked how did she recognize me, and she was too polite to say, well, you wear the exact same outfit in every photo, so it wasn't hard. Then, I'm pretty sure K. said something about how she actually likes reading this thing.
And what did I say back to her? Did I say, awww thanks? No, because that would be normal. What I actually said was something like this: "Well, it's funny you should say that, because I was just this minute thinking maybe I could stop running entirely and just shut down the blog."
Nice.
Anonymous K. looked slightly stricken, until I said no, no I'm just kidding!! har-de-har. K. was quickly on her way after that.
So I ask you, people: What the HELL is wrong with me? Why is there absolutely no filter between what I'm thinking and what comes outta my mouth??
Sigh.
So K., if you're still reading this (although why would you be, really?) what I meant to say was: Hey, thanks for reading and for saying hi, and especially for saying something nice!
Because my next thought after your nice comment was: Hey, this running thing is great!! And (of course), I can't wait to blog this!
Here are the stats on today's run:
1: 11:31
2: 11:22
3: 11:03
4: 11:15
5: 12:09 (water and my fan club—K.—stopping to talk)
6: 11:04
7: 11:45 (water stop)
8: 11:56 (right foot is busy bursting into flames)
9: 10:46 (bring it on home, sistah!)
And if you can run nine miles, you can surely run at least 1/2 mile more, foot afire or not, so:
.5: 5:34
Total time for 9.5 miles: 1:48:31, avg: 11:25 min/miles.
And K., don't be afraid to say hi again next time. I swear I'm normal. No, really.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Sandy Eggo & A Tri, Please
Whew, there's a lot happening on Sunday!
I hinted to jeff (the amazing hip), that I wish I had a list of all the RBF-ers who are running the San Diego Rock 'n Roll Marathon, and five minutes later, I had a list! So, as a public service, here's who we need to send good vibes to this weekend (and if someone has the url to Laura's blog, leave me a comment, please):
a. maria (Little Miss Runner Pants)
(late add))Amy (30 YOF Seeks Marathon to Run)
Anne (Run DMZ)
April-Anne (It's a Beautiful Life)
Dianna (Running Chick in the Orange Hat)
jeff (the amazing hip)
Karen (Winning By Losing)
Laura (This Beautiful Life)
Nic (Phase Five)
Susan (Runner Susan) Late add: Bib # 10346.
(If I were really organized, I would have gotten everyone's bib number, too. So hard being in charge of everything. Sigh.)
And, not to be forgotten, our friend and resident über-metrosexual:
Bolder in Boulder, who will be racing the Longmont Triathalon.
We expect detailed recaps on Monday.
Good luck everyone!
I hinted to jeff (the amazing hip), that I wish I had a list of all the RBF-ers who are running the San Diego Rock 'n Roll Marathon, and five minutes later, I had a list! So, as a public service, here's who we need to send good vibes to this weekend (and if someone has the url to Laura's blog, leave me a comment, please):
a. maria (Little Miss Runner Pants)
(late add))Amy (30 YOF Seeks Marathon to Run)
Anne (Run DMZ)
April-Anne (It's a Beautiful Life)
Dianna (Running Chick in the Orange Hat)
jeff (the amazing hip)
Karen (Winning By Losing)
Laura (This Beautiful Life)
Nic (Phase Five)
Susan (Runner Susan) Late add: Bib # 10346.
(If I were really organized, I would have gotten everyone's bib number, too. So hard being in charge of everything. Sigh.)
And, not to be forgotten, our friend and resident über-metrosexual:
Bolder in Boulder, who will be racing the Longmont Triathalon.
We expect detailed recaps on Monday.
Good luck everyone!
It's Not Walking, It's Transition!
Last night was hills. Ok, singular: one hill, x 1. I have to start hill training all over again. I had started before the Mother's Day 10k, took a week off of hills the week after the 10k, then was out of town last week, trying to run without being blown off the planet by the winds of San Francisco. So, I'm starting over. Wednesdays is hill-training day, so despite blisters (which have had somewhat calmed down), and $#!%@ headache, and 90 degree (F) weather, off I toddled.
The hill is off my running trail, near the 2-mile mark. The recap:
mile one: 10:36
mile two: 10:26
then backtrack about 1/4 mile to get to the hill: 3:49
(And here is where it dawned on me that I am not walking, I am transitioning!!! Sort of like childbirth. Or triathaloning.):
T-1!!!! Walk down steep path to get to the place where I run up the 1/2 mile long hill: 1:28
Run up hill: 5: 15 (Notice new blister developing, in new place ... $#!@!%)
T-2!!!! Walk at top of hill to catch breath: 1:05
Run down hill: 4:40
T-3!!!! Walk back up to trail, sit down, water: 2:33
Run to next mile marker: 1:25
T-4!!! Transition back 1.5 miles: 17:54
Overall: 5 miles in 59:00
Mood: Foul, foul, foul. New blister, plus headache. Am now hobbling.
Today: See podiatrist. Threaten him.
The hill is off my running trail, near the 2-mile mark. The recap:
mile one: 10:36
mile two: 10:26
then backtrack about 1/4 mile to get to the hill: 3:49
(And here is where it dawned on me that I am not walking, I am transitioning!!! Sort of like childbirth. Or triathaloning.):
T-1!!!! Walk down steep path to get to the place where I run up the 1/2 mile long hill: 1:28
Run up hill: 5: 15 (Notice new blister developing, in new place ... $#!@!%)
T-2!!!! Walk at top of hill to catch breath: 1:05
Run down hill: 4:40
T-3!!!! Walk back up to trail, sit down, water: 2:33
Run to next mile marker: 1:25
T-4!!! Transition back 1.5 miles: 17:54
Overall: 5 miles in 59:00
Mood: Foul, foul, foul. New blister, plus headache. Am now hobbling.
Today: See podiatrist. Threaten him.
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