Peasantman Sprint Triathlon 2012, Race Recap Part Two or The Day The Earth Stood Still

(New? Read part one here.)

As I was saying, I had forgotten, truly forgotten, how much forethought, goes into triathlon. Let's take a trip on the wayback machine, waaaayback to my first trip to Lake Anna in June 2008 for a simple swim/bike practice with D.C. Tri Club. In 2008, the lovely NOD (that would be Number One Daughter, as some of you already know) put this checklist inside the front door to make sure I didn't forget anything:

say, like, Chocolate Chip cookies! (Like I said, just the essentials!)

In my last post, I exposed my fears, worries and fallback position of "I don't even know where my wetsuit is!"

But as the days ticked by, one thing led to another.

My friend and mentor Becky egged me on.

And then I swam 700 m straight in the pool.

And then I found the wetsuit.

And some ShotBloks.

And some throwaway flip-flops.

And the next thing I knew, just like Mitt Romney, I was shaking up the etch-a-sketch, erasing the past two years of triathlon boycott, and on my way to Lake Anna!

Thankfully, there were four swim waves, in this order:

1st: Olympic confident swimmers
2nd: Olympic less confident swimmers
3rd: Sprint confident swimmers
4th: Sprint less confident swimmers

(Can I just say that I LOVE the pc-ness of these swim labels?!?! This is what makes America great--everyone's a winner!)

(Also, for those new to triathlon, Olympic distance is 1,500 swim, 22 mile bike, 10k run. Sprint is half of those.)

What a relief. Clearly organized by someone who understands me!

Into the lake I went. For the first 200 meters I pretty much let the wetsuit swim for me. It's buoyant! Then i tried to focus on not having a heart attack. Then i tried to focus on different elements of my stroke. Finally I resorted to counting. In the world of sprint triathlons, I took forever. People have finished Ironman swims in less time. But I had plenty of company, and people were even laughing and having fun. While swimming.

I know.

!

750 M: 25 min

As usual, I made my graceful exit:

Am I wearing a tutu? Is that why I am holding my arms out? Am I radioactive?

I emerged dizzy, disoriented, with a headache but oh-so-pleased with myself. I did it! The rest was gravy.

I think I took about 8 minutes in T1 (transition 1). But I was so happy, I couldn't have cared less what my time was. Breakthru thinking people!

The bike out started on an uphill. Which is kind of a challenge, if you're me. So I dropped my chain and the nice bikeout volunteer helped me put it back on. Which is a big no-no in an "official" tri, but no problem in this one!

The bike route was just pure fun. Because there were so many people doing the Olympic and they had started at different times, I was never alone. I wish more race directors would take a clue from Peasantman! It wasn't too hot, the sky was clearing, there were few cars, and we were in a state park. What's not to like?!

11 miles: 1:05

My extensive bike training clearly shows. But I was just so happy!

And then came the 5k run. I have only recently re-ignited my illustrious running career (hello, see name of blog you are reading) by using the Couch to 5k program on my iPhone, which I highly recommend. It's a very gradual intro to running. So with no time goals in mind, I was delighted to do a walk/run ratio of 3 min walk/ 8 min run. And that's what I did. For 4.3 miles.

Wait...what?

Wasn't this supposed to be 3.1??

Around the 2 mile point, one of the volunteers cheerily informed us that the course was long--actually 4.3 miles instead of 3.1. Thank God I wasn't trying to beat any records, or I would have shriveled up and died. But people seemed to take it in stride. We just kept on putting one foot in front of the other.

This is why I love triathlon. It really teaches you that if you're going to survive, you have to learn to make the best of whatever comes your way. LESSONS, people, LESSONS!

The other reason I love triathlon? Even though I am OLD and SLOW, just about every single person who passed me said, "Good job!" or some encouraging thing.

Triathletes! They really are special.

4.3 mile run: 50:40 minutes.

And anyway, how could anyone get upset with signs like this?!

With a huff and puff, I skipped the last few walk breaks and ran it in.

Utterly and completely delighted with myself!

And at the finish line? Were these:

and these:

Courtesy hometown heroes Georgetown Cupcake

Stacks and stacks of them! I have never seen so many cupcakes in my life!

I felt sick to my stomach and my head hurt. And? I have never felt so good in my life!

I had only one thought, as I passed on the mounds of cupcakes that were gently whispering my name, and the piles of food at the barbeque:

Please sir, I want some more.

Peasantman Sprint Triathlon 2012 Race Recap, Part One

Preamble

Hmm, what's the best way to explain Peasantman? Perhaps I'll just quote a bit from the Athlete's guide to give you a flavor (and I encourage you to go read the rest of it if you need a good laugh):

Hello Peasant Class Citizens,
The greatest day of your lives is here. For many of you, this will be your first swim, bike, and run combo event of any kind. A few of you may not be able to sleep the night before. Others will likely pee a lot inside their wetsuits prior to the swim.

All I have to say is, please bring a cup or wear your favorite chastity belt underneath your wetsuit. Assuming the later isn’t from the Ballston/Claredon/Court House corridor, where chastity is frowned upon. (n.b.: This is a sophisticated D.C. humorous geographical reference.)

For some, this event will bring validation of all their training and hard work. For others, it will be a rude awakening of work that lies ahead. It may scare many to see what a real open water swim entails.

Getting molested during an open water swim is not as fun as the liberal media may portray it to be. If things do not go as you expect, I give you the below quote.

"Courage doesn't always roar, sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying "I will try again tomorrow."

To the new triathletes among us, you guys are doing something that few even have the courage to attempt. I applaud you for that. I’d applaud you louder if you resist the temptation to pee in the lake. If you don’t, it won’t matter – the discharge from the nuclear power plant at Lake Anna will zap anything you discharge. (n.b.: More local humor.)

One of my favorite quotes is “life is not measured by the number of breath that we take but by the moments and places that take our breaths away.” Success or failure, this will be one of those moments for you. Embrace it! Live it! ... for there is only one first time.

The best way I can explain Peasantman is to say it's a training triathlon with both Sprint and Olympic distance options, takes place at Lake Anna (Virginia); the sprint is a 750 meter swim in Lake Anna, followed by 11 mile bike ride, followed by a 5k run. Exactly like a real tri except for all the rules. So, for instance, if you find yourself unable to finish the swim, it is perfectly acceptable to get out early and continue on the bike. Or skip the bike, and just run. Or skip everything and just eat.

My kind of race!

It is the brainchild of D.C. Tri-(er? ist? man?) Tuan Nguyen (aka the "Vertical Swimmer") several time Ironman, who (you might be surprised to learn) is of Vietnamese extraction. He is harder to explain, except to say that he is a mix of juvenile toilet humor (see above) and breathtaking inspiration (see above).

In a word, the perfect man!

Tuan's epic-length weekly email updates about this event are ... well, epic. And hilarious. And really? The main reason I registered, after being absent from triathlon/running/sportsofanykind since oh approximately exactly Jan. 30, 2010 is so I could stay on the mailing list.

So, on a fateful March 8, 2012, apparently while in some sort of fugue state, I hit the register button. For a May 6 triathlon. Which would give me about 8 weeks to go from zero to sprint tri. Continuing to uphold the Notborntorun motto:

Undertrained and overanxious!

Sometime in late March (why rush?) I realized I should probably start training.

My secret plan was to sort of half-assedly train, because I never for one moment thought I might, you know, actually compete.

But a funny thing happened. I found that I had actually missed training. A LOT. I started looking forward to it. I figured out a way to run (ok, run/walk) on the awesome rail-to-trail near my office. And I made it a point to get in the pool at least twice a week.

Oh wait. Isn't there's some third thing in triathlon that I'm forgetting...?? Ah yes. The bike. Yeah, I figured I would just wing the bike. I mean, how hard could it possibly be to ride a bike for 11 miles????!!

Thus began my spring 2012 triathlon training!

Foreword

My friend and mentor Ironwoman Becky was a constant source of encouragement. And about 2 weeks out, I started toying with the idea of actually showing up for this race, if for no other reason than to make her happy! (I should also add that Becky was volunteer coordinator for this event, which benefited the High Cloud Foundation).

So two weeks out, knowing she probably had nothing better to do, I emailed Becky and we had the following exchange (I am soooo not making this up):

Me: Ok, can you give me a (relatively) SANE swim workout for tonight? Forget about 30' or 60'... time goals just totally freak me out. I think the longest continual swim i've done this spring is 400m (and that includes wall clutching!). i have a total mental block about swimming 700 straight thru. i'm completely convinced i cannot do it!

Becky: You've got a week and a half. How many swims will you do between now and then, honestly? I'll come up with a progression with that in mind.

Me: Four swims, realistically. counting tonight!

Becky:

Becky:

Becky: Sigh.

Becky: Try this:

1) 4x200 (30").
2) 3x300(30"),
3) 2x400(60").
4) 600(60"), 200.

Me: Is that ALL for one night??

Becky:

Becky: no, each is a different day's workout.

Becky: 4x200 (30") translation: after your warm up, do 4 sets of 200m swimming. Between each set of 200 rest for 30 seconds.


Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Me: i thought you were saying to do it IN 30" !!!!

Me: OK, now I like you again.:)

Becky:

And the next thing I knew, it was May 6, 2012, race day.

To be continued...

(Sorry I know this is lame, but I have so much to share! I promise I won't leave you hanging for long. If it helps, SPOILER ALERT: I FINISHED!)

Back to the Future

Since we last spoke, I did something like this:

Thursday, walk/run 2 miles (45 second run /1 minute walk)

Saturday, walk/run 2.5 miles (45 second run / 1 minute walk)

Sunday, Cherry Blossom 10 Miler!!! Yay!!!

Monday, swim 600 meters

Race recap:

Settle down. I was only spectating while NOD's (for the uninitiated, that's Number One Daughter's) boyfriend ran under someone else's number. Out of 20,000 runners he came in 3200, bringing it home in 1:20.

Going to this race a spectator brought it all back for me. I was kind of bummed out just to be watching. I vividly remembered my two tries at this race—and it made me nostalgic!

Although, it was once again was confirmed for me that spectating is not for the weak.

Number One Boyfriend and I got up at 6 a.m. Sunday morning and rode bikes down to the Washington Monument where the race started. (That felt oddly familiar. And wrong! So very very wrong!) It was cold -- 44F. But thinking hey, it's April, we counted on things warming up, so dressed lightly. That was wrong! So very very wrong!

Cuz it turns out that when you ride a bike downhill? It makes everything colder!



Who knew??


Number One Daughter, and moi --both cold. Very very cold!



















The joggler—still joggling!

I never thought I'd utter these words, but it's true: I miss running!

Satan, Thy Name Is Procrastination

Maybe it's the time of the year? Or maybe I have finally found the thing I excel in? Wasting time?

Saturday is "long run" day, but because I'm not running with any particular group (there's no more Trail Snails, sniff!), and no one is waiting for me, this is what happens:

7:00 a.m. Wake up, make breakfast. Get on computer. Read e-mails. Cruise the New York Times.

Look! It's only 7:30! I can get out to the trail by 8, home by 9:30, perfect. Whole day in front of me. I'll just quickly check out the comments on this Washington Post article...

...I can't believe people actually believe that the H1N1 vaccine is a mad pinko Communist gummint plot to take over the world!!! Must lower blood pressure. Let's check Google Reader.

Time: 8 a.m. No problem. I can get on the trail by 8:30, be home by 10. Whole day in front of me. Meanwhile, let's check out Crooks and Liars.

Maybe cruise over to Andrew Sullivan.

There's PLENTY of time to check Facebook.

Just, you know, to see if anyone posted anything interesting.

Wouldn't want to be left out.

WTF!?! How did it get to be 10 a.m.?!?!

And, etc. Like that.

Until it's noon. And then my day is messed up.

Even better is Sunday morning, when I actually DO have to be somewhere by 11ish, and the morning starts the exact same way, with GOBS of time to go for a nice long bike ride, right up until it's 10:30 and TOO LATE to go.

I'm a menace to myself.

Why do I do this?? I didn't used to be like this. Apparently, I cannot be left to my own devices.

Do you do this? How do you stop it?? Cuz it's starting to screw up my life!

In other news, I ran 7 miles on Saturday, which is the farthest I've run since last spring!

It's all coming together!

Uno, Dos, Tres...Cartorce?

I have a perfectly good reason for not blogging.

I've been reading.

No really.

I come home from work, make dinner, curl up on the couch and read.

For like HOURS.

It's AWESOME.

But I know you've been wondering.

And the answer is: YES.

YES, I have been running!

You can read all the gory details right over there --------->

in my little workout log.

After some dithering around, I finally settled on a half-mary training schedule. (As my friend LBTEPA is wont to say: All hail the schedule!)

Runners' World has a nifty little tool called SmartCoach (thanks for the tip, Adam!) You plug in all your numbers and out pops a training plan.

My training plan calls for three runs a week. (That's not enough, is it? Oh well, it's a start.)

The week of the 20th (one week after Nation's Tri) I put in 14 miles.

Last week, I ran 15 miles.

And so far this week I'm up to 9, with 7 on tap for Saturday.

I LOVE IT. I love having structure. I loves me a good plan! I am ever-so-gradually getting a teensy bit faster.

But mostly I'm trying to help myself learn to like running.

Cuz, you know what?

This s*** is hard!

Harder than cycling, where you're at least sitting down!

Harder than swimming (except for open water, nothing beats that for hard), where you get a wall every now and then!

Sheesh.

Who knew?

And speaking of swimming and hatred, I dragged myself back to American University for a structured swim class (sort of pre-Masters') on Sunday nights. This is led by the same evil swim coach that I had in the spring. (Remember "Can you FEEEEL the water?") Yes, Coach Tammy is happy to once more be kicking my ass.

So, I'm starting again, again.

I have many more adventures to tell you about, plus kind of a big story to tell. But that will have to wait.

First, I want to wish great good luck to Adventures-in-the-Thin-Trade-David, who is running the Hartford marathon on Sunday, and Now-the-Plan-Is-This-Allison who is running the Melbourne martathon, her first! Better you than me!

Meanwhile, I'll leave you with this video of my boyfriend, the awesome-if-egomaniacal Bono, who was in town to see me a few weeks ago, and who I dragged my friend Sandy to see at a nice intimate concert for 100,000 people at FedEx Field (rant about massive and overpriced, overproduced concerts held for future post) and she has the incriminating photos to prove it (so she says, anyway; ¿Dónde está?, Sandy??!):

What Brought on That Rant Was

Last Saturday's brick, at which I biked 16 miles and then ran 3. Only I really wanted to RUN 3 miles, and I ended up walking at mile 2.5 on and off to the end.

Before I gave in to walking, one chick actually ran up beside me and said "I'll run with you, you're running a good pace."

Wow, what a compliment! Any NORMAL person would be thrilled. Instead, I thought, oh she's in for a surprise. Because I had already decided to start walking at the corner. And then I saw someone else start walking. And when I see someone else start walking, it really sucks the life outta me.

Why do I let what other people do affect me? Why can't I be pleased with what I did, which was better than what I did last time??

I know why: I'm mental!!

NOD UPDATE:
Today Number One Daughter left on her European Odyssey: Frankfurt, Sevilla, Portugal, Croatia, Istanbul, Greece. Here's a travel tip for those of you living or visiting Washington, D.C.: There are TWO airports here and they are miles apart and it's a REALLY GOOD THING to know which one your plane is leaving from.

Strike a pose.

Bye-bye!

Ponytail flying amIgonnamakeit???

MORE SIGNS OF INSTABILITY UPDATE:
Monday I plan on riding 56 miles, up this. I'm pretty scared, but my tri peeps talked me into it.

...includes just about the meanest climb you will find in this section of the country. This ride is NOT for the faint hearted!

If I make it, I'll have mad bragging rights.

Dear Running

I've tried.

I've really really tried.

I've done
every
thing
you
have
ever
asked.


I've done EVERY. THING. YOU'VE. ASKED.

No matter how outrageous.

And what do I get back??

I get out of breath. I get 11 minute plus miles. My leg hurts. My foot hurts. Sometimes I get 14 min miles (but that's only when it really counts).

When do you start pulling your weight? WHEN? How long must I beat my head against the wall?

You've told me to run at a "conversational pace." Alternatively, you've told me that to run faster, I have to run faster. You've told me to pay attention to my body (associative). You've told me to tune my body out and pay attention to my surroundings (dissociative). You told me to run with an iPod. You've told me to run without an iPod.

You'll say anything apparently, won't you? Cuz that's what YOUR KIND does best. You lying, cheating dog.

I don't ask for much.

I don't need to set any speed records.

Just a few 9 min miles.

Or how about we compromise: I run three miles and you make it, oh, I don't know, how about, say, ENJOYABLE???

This is your final warning.

And then? I'm gonna kick your ass.

Bastard!

Until you shape up, you know where to find me.

Not amused,

Jeanne

Training Tri Race Report

What's the difference between a a training tri and a non-training tri, you ask? When you find out let me know, because, except for a smaller size, lack of any swag, and no bike racks, it turns out you still gotta swim, bike, and run. I guess because it had the word "training" before it, I expected, oh, I dunno, maybe some help!

Alas, no.

D.C. Tri held a training tri last Sunday, the day after our epic 45.8 mile bike ride. I was so stoked from Saturday's festivities, I could not fall asleep 'til the wee hours. I think I got a solid four hours. Plus? When I woke up I was practically hemorrhaging (TMI? Sorry!)

So my mood was not the best when I arrived at Haine's Point at 6 a.m. The course: a 400 meter pool swim (CAKE!!! I can do this standing on my head!), a 16.8 mile three-loop bike ride (not so much cake!!), and a 5k (oh running, why do you hate me??) around the peninsula.

Transition was on a grassy median strip, and was very laid back. Bitching commenced at 6:05 sharp. My worry at that moment was having to run from the pool--in bare feet!--through the parking lot and across the street. The girl next to me pretty much told me to HTFU, and then she put a towel across her head, laid down and fell asleep until start time. A strategy I need to adopt!

For the swim, we had all estimated our times beforehand. I guessed 11 minutes. We got body marked in order of swim time, and got in line. You got in the pool in 20 second increments and swam 50 meters up one lane, down the OTHER SIDE of the same lane, ducked under the rope and did the same for the next 3 lanes until you reached the end, hauled ass out of the pool, and ran to transition.

So off I went on my first 50 meters, la-de-da, not so hard, is this?? When two chicks lapped me. No problem-o, go for it! About halfway down my 2nd 50 meters--BAM--head-on collision. I was sure I had hit the wall (literally), but no. No, no, no. It was another swimmer, starting his first lap--on the WRONG side of the lane. (I dunno, maybe he was English.) Sigh. It shook me up but no damage was done. And it gave me something else to be annoyed about for the next, oh, hour or so. Score.

At the swim start there were tons of people, volunteers, it was a busy place! At my swim exit, it was quiet. TOO QUIET. Like a morgue QUIET. I thought I was surely the last one out, that the volunteers had given up on me. But no. There was one stalwart who said, "you're O.K., go!" (Hmm, that's the name of a band!) Let's take a short musical interlude here:



Swim time: (Guesstimate) 11 minutes.

T1: 3:49

Bike: There was a strong headwind on the point but once you rounded it, it was, curiously, a tailwind! By the time I started, I could see bikes in the far distance. I was pretty much one loop behind everyone else. Soon, there were people running. I decided to say something encouraging to every runner I passed, which made me feel like a NICE person. As I started my third and last loop, I was starting to feel DISCOURAGED as I watched all my friends drop their bikes to head out on the run. One of them (Hi Jason!) called out to me "Push it, push it, push it!" so I hunkered down and pushed it, thanks to Jason.

Funny how it's the little things that can make a difference.

Bike: 16.8 miles 1:05:19 15.43 miles / hour

T2: :56

And then there was the little 5K. I noticed that the wind had died down. I noticed that there weren't that many runners I could see. OK, there were NO RUNNERS that I could see. There was however, one chick in front of me who was walking. I started my death-march shuffle and hoped she would not start running just so I could feel some kinda good by passing someone. Eventually she started running, and eventually I passed her. Score.

I have no idea why I start walking. I'm not winded, it's not like I'm running fast, and nothing hurts! It's the MOST ANNOYING THING. I had hoped to better my run time from my Philly tri, but I just stopped caring. Whatcha gonna do? A sweet girl started walking with me, and then she said, "You wanna finish this thing?" to which I replied, "Go ahead, I'm not ready to run," (HENCE THE NAME OF THIS BLOG). I tried to pick it up for the finish.

Run: 36:43 (11:50 min/miles)

I did not feel elated at the end. I felt "I'm hungry/I want to barf." I didn't feel so hot, which was a damn shame because there was another FANTASTIC D.C. Tri barbecue in full swing, with loads of goodies. I forced myself to eat a veggie burger (at 10 a.m.), and hung around waiting to see if barfing would commence (it did not) before finally deciding to head home.

Lessons:
1. A training tri is actually terrific training, and D.C. Tri puts on a great one.
2. They can't all be peak experiences, now can they?
3. If I was fast, then I wouldn't get to experience getting better.
4. I don't know why I felt so crappy. Lack of sleep? Long ride the day before? The whole bleeding to death thing?

I'm glad to have two tris under my belt before next Sunday, where my ONLY goal (I swear to God) is to HAVE FUN.

NBTR OUT!

What Happened Next Was

I went to Haine's point on Saturday and did another "brick" with the D.C. Tri club. Saturday's brick (NOT ON THE SCHEDULE, I'm just sayin'!) called for a 1:15 ride and a 15 min run.

It was a beautiful perfect day. I felt good. God's in his world and all is well. What could go wrong?

Well, nothing really. The end.

I rode 1 hour and 15 minutes and covered about 15 miles to everyone else's 20. And then I ran 15 minutes, with legs made out of jello that apparently had been encased in cement.

After that there was a barbecue. With TONS of food. This is the most fun bunch of people! I even met another blogger. Go give him some bloggy love.

I was a little bummed about my bike speed, but whaddya gonna do? I didn't fall over, so that was a plus.

(Sidebar: Speaking of falling over: So I was out riding on the trail one morning last week when a colleague caught up with me. We rode together past where I usually turn off, cuz he was showing me a shortcut to work that didn't involve stairs. It did involve darting between cars that were stopped for a red light. The problem with that is that the cars are stopped in one direction, but there are other cars turning onto the road. Not only cars; there is the occasional TROLLEY. And that's how I elevated my heart rate waaaay beyond any training zone. Clipped in, riding in between cars stopped at a light, when I looked up and saw a trolley. God help me, somehow I managed to clip out, stop, and not fall over. I deserve any and all abuse you wish to heap on me.)

But not going fast on the bike is OK. It's not like June 21 is right around the corner or anything. I have plenty of time.

Sunday was supposed to be a one-hour run. Not happening. I went off the NUTRITION RESERVATION and I totally blame church, where, in a fit of insanity, I ate a donut. OK, OK: I had TWO donuts. And then? I crashed and burned. When I got home, I took a two-hour nap, thinking I'd get up and head to the Y to run on the treadmill, my new favorite toy. Not. Happening.

Once you are off sugar be very careful starting up again. It's like taking powerful drugs. Sure you feel good for about 2 minutes, and then BAM. You are so done.

Number One Daughter is back home and has got it into her head that she wants to live in a clean, and organized, house, so we spent the rest of Sunday leaving stuff by the Dumpster, where other people often come and grab it, and giving away loads of linens and clothes that don't fit anymore.

Today was a 45 minute run, which I thought I'd turn into an hour run because of yesterday's day off. I appear to be addicted to the treadmill, which is very odd because I used to detest it. But, ya know what? I go faster on it, so I figure (hope? pray?) that my "speed" will translate to the open road.

So I planned to do my hour run tonight. Note: The YMCA politely requests that you limit your workout to 30 minutes if people are waiting.

Which of course, I interpret to mean that EVERYONE ELSE should limit their workouts to 30 minutes.

After my 30 minutes were up, I oh-so-nonchalantly reset the treadmill to 30 more minutes, when some old coot came up to me and said "YOU KNOW THERE ARE PEOPLE WAITING." Well, really! Some people!! Who do they think they ar...oh, actually, it's me who's the ass****.

I hate when that happens.

So, no hour run yesterday, no 45 minute run today, the plan is a shambles, but my apartment is really clean!

My So-Called Life

A long long time ago, I used to blog. Then I got sick. Then I got depressed. Then I went seven long days without posting, and without working out.

Seven days is a long time to not write, it turns out. And even though I seemingly only leave my house to go to work and church, enough seems to happen to me that I hardly know how to start back up. But, I'll give it a go.

First, I'm not depressed anymore (well, not totally; let's face it, I'll never be exactly chipper).

My nose is still running.

I finally bought new running shoes: the charmingly named New Balance 1023s—recommended by the charming Andre of GottaRun—which are supposed to cure my PF and my bunion pain.

Andre

And I finally replaced my running tights that have had giant holes in the knee for several years. Huzzah.

And I discovered that the pool I swim in is definitely not 25 yards—it's 25 METERS! Double huzzah.

And I did every workout on my schedule this week, including a very sucky 11-mile-run today (see? I really AM back).

A Story

My YMCA offered a free fitness evaluation on Wednesday, which I took after running four miles on the TVmill. They were also offering a free swimming evaluation so I was very excited.

And here are the results:

Weight: 165 (I have gained 10 pounds since oh, December)
Height: 5'9" (not shrinking as I age!)
BP: 120/76

Body Fat: 28.5 percent, which put me in the 60th percentile for 51-year-old women, which is apparently considered low (I don't THINK so). Am told my goal body fat is 22 percent.

Cardio—That would be that thing I've been concentrating on for the past three years?— I did a 3-minute step test: after which my heart rate was 150, which got me a cardio rating of: poor. Target rate: 116-120.

Muscle endurance: Excellent (?) How many curl-ups in one minute? 40=excellent (here's where I realize exactly how BOGUS this test is, since I have no abdominal muscles at all).
How many push-ups (girly ones) in one minute: 20=excellent (it so does not).

Flexibility: Sit and reach test: I was in the 30th percentile for women my age. Equals? Poor.

So then I moved on to the FREE SWIMMING EVALUATION, which had been advertised for two days and which I had asked the staff about before I went to run, and then again before I did my fitness evaluation. This question confused the staff, (not an uncommon state of affairs; sorry but it's true). But I did as I was instructed, which was go change into my suit, and come back INTO THE LOBBY, while they searched for the person who would do the swim eval.

And I waited. In the lobby. Thankfully I had a very large towel.

The staff, after much running about, instructed me to go to the pool.

Which seemed entirely reasonable.

But the staff there were also confused by the words "swim evaluation." Finally, one of the lads (the pool manager) asked me to wait a minute, went to retrieve a YMCA program book (??), came back, asked me how many laps I can swim, and told me which class I was qualified for.

AND THAT WAS THE ENTIRE SWIMMING EVALUATION.

Thanks!

A Package in the Mail!

Many many moons ago, it was my birthday, and someone who lives her life upside down remembered reading about how my mother once sent me (the vegetarian) some frozen meat, and so this person sent me this

to make up for it.

It's meat-flavored (?) masking tape. Bacon, I think, and wieners. Minus the blood. And the killing part.

And this person enclosed a lovely note, which I reproduce below in whole (I am not making this up):


Which I think confirms everything we already know about this person.

I could write much more but I'm sure you people have lives.

Conspiracy

I have a half-marathon to run on Sunday. Have I mentioned that (I mean, you know, like more than 20 or so times)?

In preparation, I ran four miles this week. F-O-U-R. Well, it's too late now! My personal mantra. It's. Too. Late. Now.

Swimming? Did someone ask about swimming? I LOVE THE SWIM! I'm swimming twice a week. So far just doing the same old 1,000 yards in the gorgeous outdoor YMCA pool. When I went this week, on Tuesday, snow flurries were floating down. The steam was rising from the water. I caught glimpses of the moon still high in the sky. As I swam, the light slowly broke. It's seriously gorgeous. Sometimes I think I'm actually getting better. Sometimes, I feel a twinge of regret when my last few laps come around and I wish I could swim longer, but work beckons.

I can honestly say I have NEVER wanted any run, EVER, to last longer. This is because somebody obviously does NOT want me to enjoy the run and does everything in their power to make sure I suck at it. (I'm really liking this explanation.) It quite obviously has nothing to do with my lack of training. Obviously.

So, this week, I ran F-O-U-R miles on Monday, swam on Tuesday, nothing on Wednesday (it snowed! dreadmill at work is broken, like I'd use it anyway), Thursday, spinning (another religious experience where I engage in a rich fantasy life), and here we are are today, Friday. Should I run today? Will it make any difference on Sunday whether or not I ran today?

Maybe it would be smarter to rest? Resting sounds smart, doesn't it? Especially since the PLANTAR FASCIITIS in my right foot is getting harder and harder to ignore. I've been ignoring it for months. Now, somewhat suspiciously, all of a sudden, it's screaming at me when I walk. Sometimes, when I sit.

I took the morning off from swimming so I could run. But then I couldn't run because I had to take the car in to get new tires. (This is the third time I've had tire problems just prior to a visit to Susie. Coincidence? I think not!) So, no swim, no run. Of course I could run later today. That's a possibility. But then there's the PF to think about. (This is why I don't twitter—I mean, could you imagine the endless stream that is my thought process going out over the Internets?? Well, yes, I'm guessing you actually could imagine.)

I don't know exactly who is in charge of running, but I am officially registering a complaint. Just so you know that I know exactly what is going on.

No Ski But Run

Sadly, we'll be leaving beautiful Lake Tahoe later today. We had hoped to get some skiing in (like I ski) but alas, no snow, although the resorts are doing their best pumping out the fake stuff. I had hoped to spend a day falling down the bunny slope, but you will have to wait for those photos.

I woke up at 6 a.m. Eastern Time today, and am sitting in front of a nice warm fire sipping tea with Nelson at my feet while the rest of the house sleeps. This is my favorite time of day. It's about 30F outside, and feels like snow.

(Mr. Nelson, a fine, fine dog.)

Yesterday, I ran about an hour on my own, out and back. Altitude was not a problem, except for the breathing part. After an hour Bex met me and took me another 45 minutes on a rolling course, and tried her best to teach me how to run. "Match my cadence," she intoned. Many a time she was walking while I was running. That's a real upper, let me tell you. But somewhere in the middle there I got my run on and did as I was told. "Pick it up, you're slowing down!" I think Bex should start a podcast, where she barks commands into her listener's ears. I'd subscribe! I think I did maybe 8.5 miles, but I ran them instead of plodding them. I surprised myself. At one point my heart rate hit 200 bpm. But I felt fine. Except for the breathing part.

(Bex and Mr. Bex, our most gracious hosts.)

As Nelson would say, could he talk, we shall return.

Real World

Well, it's finally happened. The real world has taken over my virtual life.

I had my First Date in, oh, five years, with rower guy last Wednesday, after work, downtown. The short version: We met at a bookstore, it was raining, had coffee, he talked about himself and I didn't. He was very nice, but didn't get my jokes. I consider the date a total success because I learned, after much agonizing and e-mailing of girlfriends, that shoes don't matter. It's true!! So it's not like it was a waste of time or anything.

That's one down, 99 men to go!

Then came:

Saturday a.m.: First day of 1/2 marathon training with the newly formed informal DCRR training group. They were doing three miles. It was raining. I ain't driving 20 miles to run three. I turned over and slept til 8.

Spent the entire morning searching for a restaurant for this group
(R to L: Peter, surrounded by women as usual. K., Bex, moi.)
to celebrate Peter and K's Chicago victories, and Bex's new job and visit to D.C. We ended up at Tallulah: modern. hip. classy. That sums us up nicely. But before Saturday night, there was Saturday Noon. In which your heroine drives to the YMCA where she ... JOINS. I have spent months hemming and hawing about where to swim. They have an outdoor year-round pool at this Y and a special deal where the first month and the membership fee was waived. It was a sign.

Saturday night: Pajama party with Bex. It was wild. We might have had cups of tea. Hard to recall.

Sunday morning: Up at 7 a.m. to get ready for the Marine Corps Marathon. Bex had the brilliant idea to give out candy. So we bought six bags of candy and went from Mile 13 to 15 to 21 to 23 to 24—where the death march began.

(Bex is obviously starving. Those runners look perfectly fine!)

("Alms! Alms for the poor!")

("Take some! It's candy! Really! It's good!")

We both got told "I love you" from different runners. (Can't remember if they were male or female. No matter!) Seriously, I was touched by the runners who, at mile 24, while obviously struggling, took the time to say "No thank you" or just "Thank you." Like we were at the dinner table. I mean really. I remember my first marathon at mile 24 and if I'd had a gun ... well, nevermind. Who knew handing out candy could be so fun?? I also handed out words of wisdom because, well, that's how we roll here at NBTR headquarters. You eat the candy, you get the sermon: "This is your race!" "You own this race!" "Make it count!" and my personal favorite: "It's all mental from here!" to which someone said "All runners are mental?" Well, you said it buster, not I. See more pics here.)

From there, Bex and I walked 26.2 miles to another subway; she headed off to visit some other peeps; I headed off to a lead a hike with my church group, along the C&O Canal near Great Falls, which I was NOT looking forward to, but, which of course, turned out to be fun. After the hike it was yet ANOTHER dinner out at the Irish Inn at Glen Echo. I got home just in time to catch the next installment of Mrs. Pritchard—thank God.

Monday 5:30 a.m.: Day One of Triathlon training! Be very afraid. Cuz I was.

There are so many steps along the way to triathlon training that people forget to tell you. Like:
1. Join pool
2. Get bikini wax

So yeah, I forgot #2. Oh well, turns out it's pitch black dark at 5:30. Oh, also there's
3. Buy swim cap
4. Buy goggles.

So I bought 3 and 4 from the guy on duty (I stopped short of #2).

I headed outside in the 45F moonlit morn, and slid into the pool. And dang, if I didn't remember how to swim! I did 15 x 50. Or 30 x 25 (I'm still learning to speak pool). Took about 1/2 hour. I am blind as a bat so there's
5. Get contact lenses immediately.

That's gonna be some $$$. Contact me (get it??!) if you can donate any used ones.

Monday night: Out to bell-ringing practice (that's after Monday day working. Goes without saying, but I have to keep saying it). Home at 10 p.m.

Tuesday 5:30 a.m.: Run! Four miles! In the dark! Again with the 45F! It felt good. I threw in a few fartleks just for fun. I really love running in the dark. It makes you feel faster.

Work ass off all day.

Go out on yet another worknight to see "I Love You. You're Perfect. Now Change." With a friend.

Start experiencing computer withdrawal. Get home at 10:30, which is akin to midnight.

That brings us FINALLY to

Wednesday 5:30 a.m.: Back to the pool! Same beautiful moonlit morn. Steam rising off the pool. Same laps. I'm practicing bilateral breathing (that's how triathletes say breathe on one side, then on the other), and today I tried to count my strokes. a.j., who unbeknownest to all of us, was some kind of swim champion freak genuis in high school, has been answering my endless stream (get it??) of idiot swimming questions. (aj also sent me free pedals! she rocks!)

For instance, NO ONE TELLS YOU THERE IS MATH INVOLVED IN SWIMMING. NO ONE. Count strokes so you know when to breathe; count strokes to swim one length; count lengths; count laps (btw? laps are TOTALLY different from lengths), count this, count that.

Lose count. Start over.


I LOVE SWIMMING. Love it. I've never had so much energy.

The rest of my week, you ask? Spinning tomorrow morning and then probably running Friday and Saturday. I've got to get my run on! Apparently, after one too many, I inadvertently might have agreed to run this with Susie. I'm sure this is a set up, cuz I just decided to run this the week before! God help me.

Next up: Biking with Jeanne!

Where In the World Is Jeanne?

I'm sure that's the question on all of your collective lips. Or on the edge of your collective seats.

Thanks to a tip from 21st C. Mom, to avoid blowing my gasket driving all around creation last weekend, I bid on a car from Priceline, and for $20 a day was promised a mid-sized car in which to lug all of Number One Daughter's many many MANY things back to school. Instead, the nice people at Hertz gave me this:



Now, I'm totally anti-SUV, anti-mini-van, anti-car really, but I gotta say: the world looks different when you can actually see where you are going! And when you don't have to run the heater to cool down the engine. It was awesome. I meant to take photos of me licking the thing, but ran out of time. It only took me 20 years to become a soccer mom. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

On to the road trip!

Well, first, I was here:

(Number One Daughter breaking the blinds in her new just-outside-of-Philly-right-above-a-nail salon-cum-pizza-place-apartment, as the BF cheerfully watches, and the mother takes photos. This room will be shared by two girls.)



And then? I was here!
(Surrounded by topless boys! At last! Dear friends D and B, hubba hubba.)

And now, I'm back in paradise:
(Look at the progress since my last posting!)

Actually, there has been progress.
1. Bathroom. Upstairs landlord responsible for hole in ceiling settled with me for $3,500. Now, I just need to borrow a bit more and I'll have a HOLE new bathroom!

2. Car. Second trip back to the dealer revealed that—are ya ready?—the cap was loose on the radiator. There is no blown gasket, no cracked gasket. In fact, there may not be any gasket of any kind. And, the dealer AT no charge kindly TURNED THE LID on the radiator to tighten it. They swear that a LOOSE radiator lid was causing my engine to overheat. (Is there a mechanic in the house?) I mean, really. Whatever, the car hasn't overheated yet, and now I have it in writing that nothing is wrong with it.

3. Running. Yes, this is a blog about running. Sort of. I ran 90 minutes at the beach with B, pictured above. OK, actually we ran 1 hour and 24 minutes but who's counting. I have no idea if we were running 12 minute miles, 11 minute miles, or 10 minute miles (ha ha), but if past performance is any indicator, 86 minutes got me near 8 miles. Maybe.

We got up at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning, after a late Friday night spent frolicking, giggling, talking politics, knitting, iPhones, and weddings. Yet B., God bless him, got up at the crack and got me out the door. We ran all over Rehoboth, hither and yon, and had a great conversation. He'd probably say it was a good walk spoilt, but I swear we were running. I felt good afterwards, too!

I was back at NBTR headquarters Sunday night, where I immediately plunged into NOD-withdrawal. Sigh. I'm sure she's missing me too (NOT).

Monday: Couldn't face work. Could. Not. Face. It. But like the Good Soldier I am, face it I did. What I really couldn't face was running before work. So I ran four crappy miles in the evening.

Today, Wednesday, I set out to repeat last week's feat of six miles before 7 a.m. (six before seven! Trademark!) I got through mile five and that was the end of that. I slog/walked the last mile back. I think it must have been the glass of wine I had Saturday night. Or my general malaise. (See, Laurie? I actually had a good run Saturday morning! So no more conjuring me on those rare occasions when your runs go bad! Ha!)

I have three miles to run on Friday, then eight on Saturday with my group.

I have no clever way to end this post. Huh.

How about we end this way? It was good enough for Bogey.



Here's looking at you, kid.

Say It Out Loud*

...I'm a runner and I'm proud!

There's something to this thing of declaring your intentions, and I'm not talking Jane Austen and marriage proposals. Although come to think of it ... nevermind, that's another post entirely.

For weeks now I've only been able to run this schedule during the week:
M-3 miles
W-4 miles
F-3 miles
and then Saturday, whatever is on the long run sked--currently at 6 miles!

I looked back over last year's running log and noticed that at this time last year I was routinely runnng 6 and 7 miles during the week, plus doing hills and track work. Yeesh, what the hell was I thinking??

I KNOW what I was thinking. I was thinking: girl, you got a marathon to run!

So this year, no marathon. But I got a 10 miler to run! And I'd like to get a 1/2 marathon in there, too.

So you know, time to step it up already.

So Saturday, I was complaining (what else is new) to one of my running group peeps that I could NOT seem to up the distances during the week. COULD NOT. And I had no idea why. And together we pondered what that was all about, as she slunk away to talk to someone normal.

So, lo and behold, this week I started Monday morning with a 4-miler, and Wednesday did 5 miles, and tomorrow, if the planets are aligned and my meds kick in, I'll do four miles!!

See? I went from 3-4-3 to 4-5-4!

And all because I said out loud what I'd been thinking for weeks, which was: What the hell is my problem?

I just thought I'd share that with you.

Have a nice day!


* Apologies to James Brown.

Eats, Drives, and Runs

Saturday was an action-packed day here at Not Born to Run headquarters.

At 8 a.m. I met the D.C. Road Runners Ten-Mile group at the Lincoln Memorial. Since our group's coach was out of town, I had agreed to take the slow runners out for a 3- mile loop around the Washington Monument and the reflecting pool.

I was kind of dreading it because I thought if I run slow, then I'll be running slow. And will never get fast. One slow run will do that to you, you know.

But! It. Was. Awesome. Turns out, I know stuff about learning how to run. 'Twasn't so long ago that I was walk/running (hmm, actually I think it was last week!) My group ran probably between 11-12:30 min miles. I ran back and forth and kept up a non-stop litany of advice, encouragement and jokes. My reward? Everyone ran, no one walked, and one deranged person actually told me that I gave great pep talks.

Who knew?

Around 9:30 I headed back to the car to drive home (yes, same car with the cracked thing that's going to blow any minute) and called Bex to doublecheck that we were leaving town at 11:30 to visit Susie and David in Fredericksburg. Ding! Wrong. Turns out we (and by "we" I mean "Bex") had planned to arrive in F'burg at 11:30. F'burg is about 45 minutes south of D.C., which meant we had to leave Bex's by 10:45. I'm about 30 minutes north of Bex—by car. Do the math.

We were a little late.

But we had a great visit with Susie and David, had lunch, chatted about this and that, Bex's move, weddings, travel, jobs and kids. A good time.

(L-R: Bex, Susie, moi. Photo, unbeknownst to her, courtesy Bex.)

We had planned on getting back to D.C. by 3, but that was looking iffy since we didn't leave Fredericksburg 'til 3:30. Bex dropped me at the King St. Station and two Metros and a bus later, I was home by 7 p.m.

Which was a really good thing, since the Rockville Twilighter 8k started at 8:45 and registration closed at 8 p.m. and I had cleverly not pre-registered.

By this point in the day I had eaten: oatmeal (plain!) for breakfast, a veggie burger for lunch, followed by a double iced espresso mocha something. (Did I mention I haven't had caffeine, in oh, 12 years or so?) This was my doping scheme.

For the rest of my nutrition, I ate two pieces of bread and drank some water. Oatmeal, veggie burger, espresso, bread, water. Got it?

The Race

The first and last time I ran this race was July 17, 2005. It was one of my first races and I remember being a nervous wreck for about a week beforehand. What a difference two years makes. I also remember a Giant Hill that I had to walk up not once but twice.

Since I was early I milled around and noticed a Starbuck's cart handing out some strange espresso concoction with raspberries on top. Score! More caffeine.

Blah blah, we were off! I had my usual race goals: Don't be last and don't walk. Oh, and this was going to be simply a training run, with no racing at all. Of that I was certain.

This is such a fun race. You're surrounded by a few thousand strangers running with you through a quiet suburban neighborhood. The neighbors line the streets, cheering, and spraying the runners with garden hoses. The runners get to watch the sun set, and then run in the dark.

I hooked up with a guy (wow, I never thought I'd be writing that in a race report!) for miles 1 and 2. He worked in a bike store, so we talked bikes for a while. He was laboring but I wasn't. The course is gently rolling and I kept waiting for that big hill, thinking I should hold back for it. I remembered Peter telling me during our 5k to "glide downhill" and pump my arms on the uphills. I FLEW on the downhills and maintained on the uphills. I kept waiting for the Giant Hill that I just KNEW was waiting for me and would reduce me to walking.


I lost Bike Guy after a nice downhill somewhere around mile 2, right around when I decided I was going to race this thing as if my life depended on it.

Mile 3 I thought I could pick it up and I stopped dreading the Giant Hill. I started passing people. What a great feeling! People started walking.

I don't know what happened in mile 4. Apparently my watch stopped. Or, possibly I got worried about finishing strong and slowed down. And there was no Giant Hill. Anywhere.

Mile .97 I flew. I pushed myself. I'd been playing cat and mouse with an older gentleman (yes, my competition consists of old men, people in casts, and children—I take what I can get), and I decided I was taking him down if it was the last thing I ever did. I remembered Laurie saying it's supposed to hurt. I passed the geezer. I passed one chick who was starting to fade and I felt myself wanting to encourage her, but instead made the decision to focus on ME. Screw her! I felt bad for about 1/2 second, but I wanted to give it all I had and I thought this was no place to be thinking about anyone else. Something inside me just clicked.

A volunteer called out: "only 200 feet left, just like halfway around a track" and I picked it up even more, and flew through the chute.

I was elated. I had no idea what my time was but for the first time, I. Loved. Racing. Loved it!! I wanted to call up everyone I knew and tell them but alas, no one was around. Or no one who would actually care.

Except you guys:

The stats:

Rockville Twilighter 8k, July 21, 2007, age 50
Unofficial time: 53:08 (10:41 min./mile) 51/76

mile 1: 11:00
mile 2: 10:52
mile 3: 10:31
mile 4: 11:11 (no no no no no)
mile .97: 9:32 (yes yes yes yes yes!)

Rockville Twilighter, July 17, 2005, age 48: 58:18 (11:44 min./miles) 60/69

PR: St. Patrick's Day 8K, March 12, 2006, age 49: 52:28 (10:34 min./miles) 80/113

I Know a Secret

So, when last we left out heroines they were planning on visiting Hain's Point early Saturday morning for a 4.8 mile run. Turns out that NOD's idea of early is a little different from my idea of early, so we got there at 8:45, or in other words, practically the middle of the day.

We had planned on parking next to the Awakening, but were thwarted by heavy duty plywood gates blocking our way. No admittance for us! Seriously, I could have breached these defenses with, well, with nothing!

NOD marched right up to a park ranger and asked "what up?" He said, "Oh, we store the fireworks for the 4th of July back here." Um, thanks. Speak up, cuz I don't think the the terrorists caught that. (P.S. This is the secret to which the title alludes. However, as of tonight, it's now OK to tell secrets in this town!)

This town. It make-a me crazy!

I figured I would just run the other way, around the tidal basin for 25 minutes and back, since my instructions were to run 4.8 miles in around 55 min. Close enough.

So out I trudged, NOD trudging behind me. Her goal was 15 min out and back. I started circling the basin when an old familiar urge starting making itself known.

Yes, again.

But no problem, there were about 10,000 portapotties set up in preparation for the fourth of July festivities. I dashed to the first set. Locked. Second set. Locked.

WHAT IS IT WITH THIS TOWN?!? Tell any yahoo who asks where the explosives are stored, but lock all the portapotties. That'll teach 'em. Teach us. Teach somebody.

I had no choice, found a clump of bushes and some very large leaves and ... etc.

NOD later remarked that she thought it was a bit odd that I think everyone should wear gloves and I hate touching the escalator railing in Metro for fear of germs, but have no problem dropping trou and using leaves in the middle of busy Ohio Drive in downtown D.C.

I don't see any inconsistency, do you??

Anywho, I ran some distance equalling 50 minutes but it felt slow and sluggish. NOD and I topped off the morning people watching from our favorite Capitol Hill coffeeshop, and wandering around the remains of Eastern Market.

All in all, a fine fine day.

Sunday was a rest day and I managed to go out and overeat with some friends Sunday night, including drinking a real drink and having insomnia all night because I slept all day because I didn't sleep Saturday night because the new tenant who lives below me threw an animal house party until 3 a.m. Complete with live barfing over the balcony railing.

My life is very complicated.

So this morning, Monday, I "awoke" (can you awake if you never slept?) at 5:40 in a deep dark black mood.

But, as Ms. Susie taught me waaay back at the start of this running odyssey, if it wasn't for the bad runs we'd never appreciate the good ones, right?

I went into automrunmode and did this:
10:30
10:40
10:22

I don't pretend to understand. I just hope I haven't peaked too soon. Cuz I got me a race to run!

I Rule!!

Today, Friday, June 29, 6:30 a.m.:

mile 1: 11:20
mile 2: 10:31
mile 3: 10:36
32:28 (10:49/mile)

whoo hooo.

My trusty coach mapped out 4.8 miles for tomorrow morning (don't ask me, I'm sure it's very scientific). Number One Daughter said she is coming with me. Early. In the morning. Near the Awakening.

Whoo hooo I say again!

Sit Down, You're Not Going to Believe This

People go out on Friday nights.

It's true.

I saw it for myself when I went to my first concert in (cough ahem) years, to see this fellow:
(my crush, Richard Thompson, who if you don't know him, you totally should )

He rocked the 9:30 Club in D.C. My ears are still ringing, but in a good way. And there were actually people there, proving that I am not a remnant of a very rare and faraway breed.

Who knew?

That's the latest I've stayed up in a long long time, and Number One Daughter was shocked. Shocked I tell you. She is now encouraged that I might actually have a life.

Which life will no doubt end when I start the 10-Mile Training Program with DCRR on July 14, which I've been asked to help coordinate. (It takes some people several times before the depths of my incompetency become fully apparent. In other words some people never learn.)

But for a few hours there, I was a groovy hot mama, bopping along to protest songs and love ballads, and screaming like I was at a Beatles' concert. In 1964.

And then, I woke up.

And went on a 4-mile run Sunday night. (OK, I did some stuff between the concert and the run. Poetic license, people.) This week I waited 'til it was practically dark to avoid the heat and humidity. I had a lovely offer to run with someone on Sunday morning, but (cue Chariots of Fire) I have this little commitment every Sunday morning, which tends to last a long time since I volunteer for this and that, so had to turn the offer down. Which kind of sucks because had someone run with me, this run would have gone

... down like a warm butter pad on toast. I swear. We'll talk, and run, and before you know it the Giant will be in our sights again and we'll be done. I swear. Maybe 55 minutes.

I ask you: what kind of MORON turns down an offer like that?!?! The man said it would be like buttah!

Instead, I went out for my long run on Sunday night with the humidity hovering around 120 percent. (I don't care if that is scientifically impossible. You live in D.C. and tell me all about it.)

And this happened:

mile 1: 11:14
mile 2: 11:13
mile 3: 11:42
mile 4: 11:41
45:51 (11:27/mile)

It's discouraging. That's all I'll say.

No, wait, I'll say more.

This is the start of week five of my "Return to Running" (soon to be a major motion picture) and I'm supposed to be throwing down 9:30 minute miles by now. What the hell happened?

Someone keeps assuring me that "less is more" and that I'm "building a base," and "quality over quantity," and that I am doing "great," etc. Thank God for this encouragement, because I'm getting fed up.

I have my first 5k on July 4 (well, my first since the "Return to Running"). It's not gonna be pretty, but I'm going to run that thing if I have to have someone drag me across the finish line.

But let's all take a deep breath and remember that whatever I lack in talent and ability, I make up for in stubbornness. (Or stupidity. Take your pick. They both start with the same letters.) So I'm going to get there, as God is my witness, if it TAKES ME THE REST OF MY FREAKIN' LIFE.

Amen, halleluiah.

Four Long Miserable Miles

It's already hot here in D.C. 90°F today, so I waited til 5 p.m. for my "long run." Didn't help. Still hot.

But before I commence bitching, run over to Little Miss Runner's and tell her WELL DONE on her very first triathlon!

And when you're done there, race over to Little Miss I Run for Hope and congratulate HER on her first 10k!

OK, enough about people skipping merrily around. Let's get back to me.

For four hellish miles I listened to the "Notes on Camp" episode of "This American Life," while endlessly bargaining with myself. You know the drill: "You can quit at 2.5. You've been doing 2.5 all week. OK, just make it to 3. Make it to 3.5. Stop whenever you want."

This running thing? It's not going so well. I'm digging the 2.5 miles every morning, but this long run stuff? Did I ever say I LIKED THIS?!? If I did, I'd like to know what drug I was taking at the time.

I wore my DC Road Runners t-shirt, cuz I like to make people laugh:




I'm the one that's getting used to that view (wait, that doesn't really make any sense, unless you're saying, jeanne, you've got your head up your ... nevermind):

mile 1: 10:46
mile 2: 10:46
mile 3: 11:19
mile 4: 11:31

Yeah, I'm 'sposed to be all happy I did it and I may not be fast, but I'm all persistent and stubborn as all get out and blah blah blah de blah.

Instead, my head hurts. And tomorrow is Monday. And funny, I didn't find the love of my life again this weekend. (He must be out of the country this week month year.)

Blah.

Speaking of moods, here's a fun little toy. I know my mood (bad). But I'm all about the interactive internets. So play along! Find out how I make you feel. You make me feel: HAPPY!


Create your own Mood-Meter