I recently stopped stretching because I had read several articles that proclaimed that there was no measurable benefit or correlation with injury prevention in athletes who stretched versus those who don't. What a stupid idea. Just because scientists couldn't perform an experiment that could show the effectiveness of stretching doesn't necessarily mean that a good daily stretch is a waste of energy/time. Most running injuries are tendon-related...and guess what? The tendon is part of the muscle! So to keep the tendon healthy, you have to keep the muscle healthy. I can just imagine the amount of stress a tight muscle would put on the tendon that attaches it to the bone.
The reason why stretching has been downplayed by "recent studies" is that it's a very difficult thing to quantify, and injury prevention is about as black and white as life itself. So many factors affect performance and one's risk for injury; the exact cause is super difficult to pinpoint. Although overuse injuries seem to happen all of a sudden, they usually have roots that are devilishly deep. They are the result of the pounding and pulling of the muscles over miles and miles of running. The tighter you allow your muscles to become, the more they pull on those oh-so fragile tendons (well, at least mine are, anyway). It doesn't take a doctorate degree to realize that.
I don't think that stretching will solve all of my (or your) problems, but I think that it is definitely worth it, even if there is no evidence to support it. Our routines should not be governed by the latest research or the newest trend. Perhaps they can be used as guidance, but at the end of the day, you must do what works for you. You do not resemble any of the 200 subjects that scientist used, so don't train like them.
The second part of stretching is allowing your mind to stretch. Believe that anything is possible; that no goal is out of reach. Distance runners are made over years of training, not weeks or months. How do you know you've reached your limit if you never try? Never give up on the notion that you can go faster still. Realistic goals are great, but not near as fun as those pie-in-the-sky aspirations. The key is believing in yourself, and realizing that other people believe in you too.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
"This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last"
Friday I had a spectacular run. My legs felt terrible, my stomach was about to explode, and it was warmer than the weather than I usually run in. No, I didn't feel awesome like I usually do, but this run wasn't great because of how I felt, it was great because of how I thought. I had a great internal conversation with myself, remembered some great times in my life, and came up with a new running/life mantra (you got it, the title!) . I found myself grinning from ear to ear a couple times. People we're probably thinking I was crazy, laughing and running like I was. Oh well.
One of the biggest things I thought about was how far I've come since this time last year. At exactly this moment in December 2010, I was probably freaking out over my chem 1 and calc exam, wondering how on earth I was going to pass each class. I was getting my first taste of finals week and the city-wide stress umbrella. I was just starting to run again after being injured almost all of last fall. Just to look at the contrast was cool in itself.
But of course, the best thing to come out of the run was this: "This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last." This little quote can mean nothing or everything to you, depending on how you look at it. I take as saying "Look, things aren't looking too peachy these days, but you've been through it before, and it shows that you have the strength to do it again." It's great for both life and running. In life, you go through peaks and valleys, and you have to remind yourself sometimes that whatever the case may be, you've most likely been through it before. And therefore, you can weather the storm again. In running, training is supposed to be the hard part. Racing is easy. You've been through it all before and probably up to 10 times worse. If you hit a rough spot in a race, bring up a memory of when you had the best race of your life or the hardest workout of your build-up. Also, know that you're strong enough to do it again, because you survived it the first time. Confidence is key.
Lately I've been stressed out with exams and my legs have felt like lead. But this isn't the first time, and it sure as heck it won't be the last.
One of the biggest things I thought about was how far I've come since this time last year. At exactly this moment in December 2010, I was probably freaking out over my chem 1 and calc exam, wondering how on earth I was going to pass each class. I was getting my first taste of finals week and the city-wide stress umbrella. I was just starting to run again after being injured almost all of last fall. Just to look at the contrast was cool in itself.
But of course, the best thing to come out of the run was this: "This isn't the first time, and it won't be the last." This little quote can mean nothing or everything to you, depending on how you look at it. I take as saying "Look, things aren't looking too peachy these days, but you've been through it before, and it shows that you have the strength to do it again." It's great for both life and running. In life, you go through peaks and valleys, and you have to remind yourself sometimes that whatever the case may be, you've most likely been through it before. And therefore, you can weather the storm again. In running, training is supposed to be the hard part. Racing is easy. You've been through it all before and probably up to 10 times worse. If you hit a rough spot in a race, bring up a memory of when you had the best race of your life or the hardest workout of your build-up. Also, know that you're strong enough to do it again, because you survived it the first time. Confidence is key.
Lately I've been stressed out with exams and my legs have felt like lead. But this isn't the first time, and it sure as heck it won't be the last.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
finding the right way to race
In high school, I would often stand on the starting line with a feeling of impending doom and a stomach full of nerves and nausea. I placed irrational amounts of pressure to perform on my tiny shoulders, and it often weighed me down as I slogged through the last mile of a 5K. I loved running, but I hated racing. Something about the competition made me turn up my nose. I always want to be the best I can be, but if I had to beat someone else to do it, I usually choked and just let them win. Not that I have a kick anyway, but I notoriously backed down in almost every sprint to the finish. I always took the path of least resistance; unless I felt perfect the entire race, I couldn't keep the fight in my legs.
I can vividly remember the race where I ran my PR in high school. It was a gloomy morning at Polk Community College, and I arrived at the race extremely anxious because we were running late after my mom took a wrong turn on the way. I somehow settled down for the race, and sang "Better Together" by Jack Johnson in my head as I zipped through the clay-laden course. I ran 21:18, and was absolutely beaming afterwards.
Looking back, I realize that I race best when I'm completely relaxed. Heck, I race best when I simply don't care about how I perform. Carefree and expectation-free racing is my new approach, and it's starting to work. Instead of worrying about racing and pacing, I just do it. I let the race come to me, and embrace the pain that follows. The past few times I've raced this semester, I toed the line with a smile on my face and ambition in my heart. It really is infinitely better.
So last Sunday, I ran the Women's Half Marathon in St Petersburg. The weather was lukewarm and pleasant, and, as the name implies, women were everywhere, mostly buzzing with excitement about their first half-marathon or about their matching pink shirts. I stepped to my spot in the first corral, pushing any goals for the race aside and instead watching the sun rise over the gulf. I saw the eventual winner walk up to the line, stretching her legs and babbling about running the NYC marathon a few weeks ago and the Miami Man triathlon the week before. What a beast.
When the gun went off, I found myself in front with 6 other girls and the car with the clock in view. I remember thinking about how I've never seen the pace car, and it somehow made me even more excited to be in front. I ran with a girl named Christina for the first 6 or so miles, and she told me to keep an eye on the girl in blue in front of us; her form was deteriorating and we would soon catch her. So then it was the 3 of us. I was still running 6:30's by mile 7, and still feeling pretty good.
Once the course doubled back upon itself, we passed the slower runners/walkers going in the other direction. They clapped and cheered us on, shouting words of encouragement and whooping a little. I remember one girl saying "Holy sh** girl, you're running fast!" I cracked a huge smile and laughed a little. I passed my parents as I headed out to the loop on the pier, and hearing their cheers put more spring in my step and confidence on my shoulders. By the time we rounded the pier, I led the pack of 3 women and gave my family high five's as I galloped by.
Going into mile 9, there was just me and the girl and blue. I was motivated for 2 reasons: 1. I DID NOT want to be 6th instead of 5th, and 2. this was the first time I had actually raced someone in the HM, and I was feeling awesome. I decided I needed to lose her as fast as possible, so I picked up the pace at mile 10 and never looked back.
I succeeded in losing her, but I was beginning to feel the sub-7 pace destroying my legs. I desperately wanted the race to be over, but I kept telling myself that all I had to do was hold the pace. I started singing in my head for motivation ("girl look at that body.....girl look at that body....girl look at that body...I work out!) Anyways it worked, and before I knew it I was crossing the finish line with a grimace-smile on my face. 1:28:45. Unbelievable. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I could have a race like that...considering I ran the same pace for some of my high school cross country races. Crazy stuff.
Racing can be fun, and racing is so much better without the baggage of expectations or lofty goals. It's all about just toeing the line and letting it fly.
I can vividly remember the race where I ran my PR in high school. It was a gloomy morning at Polk Community College, and I arrived at the race extremely anxious because we were running late after my mom took a wrong turn on the way. I somehow settled down for the race, and sang "Better Together" by Jack Johnson in my head as I zipped through the clay-laden course. I ran 21:18, and was absolutely beaming afterwards.
Looking back, I realize that I race best when I'm completely relaxed. Heck, I race best when I simply don't care about how I perform. Carefree and expectation-free racing is my new approach, and it's starting to work. Instead of worrying about racing and pacing, I just do it. I let the race come to me, and embrace the pain that follows. The past few times I've raced this semester, I toed the line with a smile on my face and ambition in my heart. It really is infinitely better.
So last Sunday, I ran the Women's Half Marathon in St Petersburg. The weather was lukewarm and pleasant, and, as the name implies, women were everywhere, mostly buzzing with excitement about their first half-marathon or about their matching pink shirts. I stepped to my spot in the first corral, pushing any goals for the race aside and instead watching the sun rise over the gulf. I saw the eventual winner walk up to the line, stretching her legs and babbling about running the NYC marathon a few weeks ago and the Miami Man triathlon the week before. What a beast.
When the gun went off, I found myself in front with 6 other girls and the car with the clock in view. I remember thinking about how I've never seen the pace car, and it somehow made me even more excited to be in front. I ran with a girl named Christina for the first 6 or so miles, and she told me to keep an eye on the girl in blue in front of us; her form was deteriorating and we would soon catch her. So then it was the 3 of us. I was still running 6:30's by mile 7, and still feeling pretty good.
Once the course doubled back upon itself, we passed the slower runners/walkers going in the other direction. They clapped and cheered us on, shouting words of encouragement and whooping a little. I remember one girl saying "Holy sh** girl, you're running fast!" I cracked a huge smile and laughed a little. I passed my parents as I headed out to the loop on the pier, and hearing their cheers put more spring in my step and confidence on my shoulders. By the time we rounded the pier, I led the pack of 3 women and gave my family high five's as I galloped by.
Going into mile 9, there was just me and the girl and blue. I was motivated for 2 reasons: 1. I DID NOT want to be 6th instead of 5th, and 2. this was the first time I had actually raced someone in the HM, and I was feeling awesome. I decided I needed to lose her as fast as possible, so I picked up the pace at mile 10 and never looked back.
I succeeded in losing her, but I was beginning to feel the sub-7 pace destroying my legs. I desperately wanted the race to be over, but I kept telling myself that all I had to do was hold the pace. I started singing in my head for motivation ("girl look at that body.....girl look at that body....girl look at that body...I work out!) Anyways it worked, and before I knew it I was crossing the finish line with a grimace-smile on my face. 1:28:45. Unbelievable. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I could have a race like that...considering I ran the same pace for some of my high school cross country races. Crazy stuff.
Racing can be fun, and racing is so much better without the baggage of expectations or lofty goals. It's all about just toeing the line and letting it fly.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Mountain Dew Race Report
Everyone who has run a 5K (or any race, for that matter) knows the "uh-oh" moment. It's that moment that you look down at your watch after a mile of adrenaline-fueled racing and go "uh-oh....I'm gonna die..." I raced the Mountain Dew Invitational cross country race last weekend, and as I passed the stopwatch-gripping collegiate coaches at mile 1, they barked out "6:10...6:11...6:12.." My heart sank, and I looked at my watch to confirm: I had ran a 6:10 first mile. Uh-oh.
I felt good, but I was 10 seconds off pace and there were hills scattered throughout the course. Three miles is a long time to hold an effort that is just short of maximal. In fact, it's like a suicide race for a distance runner like me. The weather was hot and humid, and it felt as if the moisture in the air was smothering my lungs. I looked around at one point the race, and thought about how cool it was to be running and competing with so many college athletes, all who had the privilege to wear a singlet bearing their school's name. But then my thoughts shifted back to how much pain I was in, and I tried to concentrate on controlling my breathing. Then I ran past another barrage of coaches at mile two. I looked at my watch again: 12:50.
I took a few more strides before it set in. I had run a two mile PR (faster than I had ever run in high school, on the track no less!) in the middle of my 5K. I heard a coach yell to one of his runners that she was on pace for an under 20 finish. "That's what you want more that anything in the world..." I thought to myself, trying to stay motivated. Unfortunately, I felt my energy waning, and I for some reason I knew at that moment that today wasn't going to be the day. In hindsight, if I could have been able to keep a positive attitude at that point in the race, I may have pulled it off.
I struggled through the last mile, bumbling over the last hill as my legs were rebelling any further movement. My confident gallop at the start had turned into a marathoner's shuffle. Just like all cross country races, the end of the race was ambiguous. Just when you think you are turning towards the finish, you loop around with the finish line in sight. It's so heartbreaking. Regardless, I did my best to finish strong, but I felt like I was running in slow motion towards the finish line. I at least knew that I had run really hard that day, because I really did not have much left at the end.
When I was able to make out the 20 on the clock, I instantly dropped my head muttered a special word or two. Not today. I still finished in 20:50, which is something I never did in high school or in an official race. I was proud of not walking or stopping, as I have done so many times before when I put pressure on myself. I came very close in that last mile.
I walked away from the race extremely happy, because I realized that time isn't everything. I was proud of my effort, and I was grateful just to be out there racing. I also realized that I have people that love me very much. I got to see my coach and old cross country team, who came out early to watch, as well as other friends who came to cheer me and the others on. Their support meant so much to me, and seeing them at the finish line was the best part of all. They say distance running and training is lonely and self-centered, but I actually think that is far from the truth. The camaraderie in suffering is absolutely amazing, and you can't put a value on a couple of friendly faces smiling at you as you feel like dying at the end of a race. :)
I felt good, but I was 10 seconds off pace and there were hills scattered throughout the course. Three miles is a long time to hold an effort that is just short of maximal. In fact, it's like a suicide race for a distance runner like me. The weather was hot and humid, and it felt as if the moisture in the air was smothering my lungs. I looked around at one point the race, and thought about how cool it was to be running and competing with so many college athletes, all who had the privilege to wear a singlet bearing their school's name. But then my thoughts shifted back to how much pain I was in, and I tried to concentrate on controlling my breathing. Then I ran past another barrage of coaches at mile two. I looked at my watch again: 12:50.
I took a few more strides before it set in. I had run a two mile PR (faster than I had ever run in high school, on the track no less!) in the middle of my 5K. I heard a coach yell to one of his runners that she was on pace for an under 20 finish. "That's what you want more that anything in the world..." I thought to myself, trying to stay motivated. Unfortunately, I felt my energy waning, and I for some reason I knew at that moment that today wasn't going to be the day. In hindsight, if I could have been able to keep a positive attitude at that point in the race, I may have pulled it off.
I struggled through the last mile, bumbling over the last hill as my legs were rebelling any further movement. My confident gallop at the start had turned into a marathoner's shuffle. Just like all cross country races, the end of the race was ambiguous. Just when you think you are turning towards the finish, you loop around with the finish line in sight. It's so heartbreaking. Regardless, I did my best to finish strong, but I felt like I was running in slow motion towards the finish line. I at least knew that I had run really hard that day, because I really did not have much left at the end.
When I was able to make out the 20 on the clock, I instantly dropped my head muttered a special word or two. Not today. I still finished in 20:50, which is something I never did in high school or in an official race. I was proud of not walking or stopping, as I have done so many times before when I put pressure on myself. I came very close in that last mile.
I walked away from the race extremely happy, because I realized that time isn't everything. I was proud of my effort, and I was grateful just to be out there racing. I also realized that I have people that love me very much. I got to see my coach and old cross country team, who came out early to watch, as well as other friends who came to cheer me and the others on. Their support meant so much to me, and seeing them at the finish line was the best part of all. They say distance running and training is lonely and self-centered, but I actually think that is far from the truth. The camaraderie in suffering is absolutely amazing, and you can't put a value on a couple of friendly faces smiling at you as you feel like dying at the end of a race. :)
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Balance
Ask someone how to become a better runner, and they'll say something like "Well, you need a good mix of easy runs, tempo runs, speedwork, and long runs." Ask someone how to "get jacked" and they'll say you need to "do a lot of heavy lifting, but also a lot of rest in between." Ask someone how to improve their diet, and they'll reply "Eat from all the food groups in moderation, including a variety of vegetables, fruits and grains, as well as choosing your animal products wisely." See the common theme? Balance is at the center of every healthy, enjoyable life.
Although many of us would like to think that there's no such thing as "too much of a good thing", there most certainly is. Too much training without rest leads to burnout and injuries, too much studying leads to coffee overconsumption and sporadic academic thoughts, too much partying...you get the idea. However, all the things I just mentioned belong somewhere in everyone's lifestyle, (yes, even the partying one) just how much of each depends on what it takes to balance the almighty teeter-totter of life. Sure, it's not realistic to have a parallel teeter-totter, (we found this out as kids on the playground) but we can't have the skinny kid vaulting off the top of it either. Imagine one side representing achievement, and the other side representing enjoyment. It's important to even out out efforts toward having fun and being dedicated to our goals in life.
It's important to work hard, but it's also important to relax and recover. It seems that there is no in-between in college-it's one extreme or the other. We all find ourselves a little off balance every now and then, both with life and with training. The great thing about life, though, is that every day is a new chance, another try, and another sunrise.
The Poem:
I run before the day's begun,
with pattering footsteps I chase the rising sun
finding something no one else has found
In a world that's quiet and on solid ground
every breath nourishes my beating heart,
pounding, pounding away in the solitude and dark
Smiling as my legs ache at the end,
It was an hour of my day that I could pretend
that time was one of my dearest friends.
No weight on my shoulders, no work to be done,
Besides this run before the rising sun.
Although many of us would like to think that there's no such thing as "too much of a good thing", there most certainly is. Too much training without rest leads to burnout and injuries, too much studying leads to coffee overconsumption and sporadic academic thoughts, too much partying...you get the idea. However, all the things I just mentioned belong somewhere in everyone's lifestyle, (yes, even the partying one) just how much of each depends on what it takes to balance the almighty teeter-totter of life. Sure, it's not realistic to have a parallel teeter-totter, (we found this out as kids on the playground) but we can't have the skinny kid vaulting off the top of it either. Imagine one side representing achievement, and the other side representing enjoyment. It's important to even out out efforts toward having fun and being dedicated to our goals in life.
It's important to work hard, but it's also important to relax and recover. It seems that there is no in-between in college-it's one extreme or the other. We all find ourselves a little off balance every now and then, both with life and with training. The great thing about life, though, is that every day is a new chance, another try, and another sunrise.
The Poem:
I run before the day's begun,
with pattering footsteps I chase the rising sun
finding something no one else has found
In a world that's quiet and on solid ground
every breath nourishes my beating heart,
pounding, pounding away in the solitude and dark
Smiling as my legs ache at the end,
It was an hour of my day that I could pretend
that time was one of my dearest friends.
No weight on my shoulders, no work to be done,
Besides this run before the rising sun.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The biggest training secret of all: Confidence and a positive attitude
I'm sure we've all heard the phrase "attitude is everything", and I've never believed this to be more true. Sure, elite athletes have the best coaches, genes, training facilities, means of recovery, etc; but they also possess something that is available to all of us: a supreme confidence in themselves and their training, as well as a happy-go-lucky attitude. They enjoy what they are doing everyday, and completely believe in themselves. Some of them are cocky, yes, but it's good to be cocky-in moderation.
Even if we mortals had all of the resources available to us that the elites to us, we would not see great improvement without happiness with ourselves and acceptance of who we are in the present. If you are not happy with yourself today, you have to make the commitment to be better tomorrow. I'm not saying that you should wake up everyday and think "Oh, I'll start training tomorrow." Theoretically, tomorrow would never come in this scenario. One of my favorite running quotes is "Don't spend your whole life wondering how good of a runner you could be. Become that runner today." So my point is, no matter if you are starting from the ground or a couple rungs up, improvement should always be your goal from the day. There's always something we could do better. Be encouraged by the possibilities, not discouraged by reality. Reality is overrated sometimes.
Believe in yourself and what you are doing. There is no room for second-guessing or negativity. It's just not worth it, especially when you are training and racing. No matter what your goal is, it's imperative that you stick with it. No matter how lofty it is, where there's a will there's a way. Keep that frown upside down, and be cognizant of the benefits of a positive attitude. Racing is so much more fun when you have confidence.
This pep talk has been brought to you by a long wait before class and a thunderstorm...
Even if we mortals had all of the resources available to us that the elites to us, we would not see great improvement without happiness with ourselves and acceptance of who we are in the present. If you are not happy with yourself today, you have to make the commitment to be better tomorrow. I'm not saying that you should wake up everyday and think "Oh, I'll start training tomorrow." Theoretically, tomorrow would never come in this scenario. One of my favorite running quotes is "Don't spend your whole life wondering how good of a runner you could be. Become that runner today." So my point is, no matter if you are starting from the ground or a couple rungs up, improvement should always be your goal from the day. There's always something we could do better. Be encouraged by the possibilities, not discouraged by reality. Reality is overrated sometimes.
Believe in yourself and what you are doing. There is no room for second-guessing or negativity. It's just not worth it, especially when you are training and racing. No matter what your goal is, it's imperative that you stick with it. No matter how lofty it is, where there's a will there's a way. Keep that frown upside down, and be cognizant of the benefits of a positive attitude. Racing is so much more fun when you have confidence.
This pep talk has been brought to you by a long wait before class and a thunderstorm...
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The runs on Honey Hill Rd
This past weekend, my family and I went to Arkansas for my cousin's wedding. Training-wise, I had prepared for the trip by kicking my butt the week before, so the next week could be a recovery week, and so I had an excuse not to train hard for a few days. I knew that there was no chance of swimming or cycling on my trip, but at least I could still run. I love running because of its simplicity, lack of necessary equipment, and the ability to do it almost anywhere. I had not planned to do any hard workouts over the weekend, and I knew that I would lose Friday as a training day because of the travel and rehearsal dinner that evening. But then I saw Honey Hill Rd.
We stayed in my aunt's house in Searcy, Arkansas, a town that had an interesting mix of the old and new, country and city. She happened to live off of the main drag in a neighborhood accessed by Honey Hill. This road was a narrow and country, with rolling hills and not much civilization past my aunt's neighborhood. I cracked a smile as we barreled over the hills on the way to Little Rock for the rehearsal dinner. I HAD to run these hills.
So on Saturday morning, I set out at 8:30 AM down Honey Hill Rd, planning to run for an hour at an easy pace so that I could take in the surroundings. The first hill was the biggest, and it was within the first mile of the run. My legs tingled with that hill-running feeling, something I haven't felt since Collegiate Nationals in Tuscaloosa (and I was grossly unprepared for those at the time). The road had no sidewalks, so I plodded along in the opposite direction of traffic, as I had read to do in Runner's World Magazine. Several large trucks passed me, politely waving and granting me the whole lane. People in the south are so friendly that way. I started anticipating the wave, and ran with my arm locked in an acknowledging position. I thought about how Arkansas was such a different world than Florida, how the pace of living was slower, the sky more clear, and the houses more, well, homey. I thought about the wedding later that day, and how proud I am of my cousin. The stream was interrupted, however, when a black dog and his terrier accomplice came running from one of the country houses I was running by. Luckily he was friendly, so I stopped and petted him as he jumped and ran circles around me. That sure doesn't happen every day. I ran to the end of Honey Hill and back, 6.71 miles in 51:21. Not very slow after all...
Sunday I did hill repeats on the aforementioned first big hill. I did 6 of them, sprinting over the top and cruising down the other side. I had definitely forgotten how hard hill repeats are. It was a great and fast workout, and it left my legs pleasantly fatigued. I had a water bottle that I would drink every time I came back over the hill toward my aunt's house, and I would rest a minute before starting the next set. Several cars were passing me, since it was Sunday and everybody was heading to church. After my 4th repeat, two cars a minute apart stopped and asked me "Honey, are you okay?", with a thick southern accent. I mustered up my best southern accent and replied "I'm just fine, just wettin' my whistle real quick." (ok, not really, but I wish I did) But I found it really amusing. No one in Florida would ever ask me such a thing. I guess they aren't used to seeing a red-faced blonde girl running on their road in nothing but a sports bra and running shorts. It should be noted that it was very hot all weekend, with the highs in the 100's and lows in the 80's. The lack of humidity was nice, but it was like going from the sauna to the oven. The feels-like temperature was 112 degrees the night of the wedding. I could have easily passed out on the side of the road, and if I did, I have no doubts that I would be quickly resuscitated with sweet tea and homemade biscuits and jam.
Monday I did the same workout as Friday, running 6.7 miles. We were going to be traveling all day, so I had to do something in order to keep me from going crazy on the plane. I was able to relax a little more this time, as I was more familiar with the route and had a feel for the distance. This time I left the house closer to 7:30, and the temperature was very tolerable. I saw my furry friends again around mile two, and was passed by a lot of cars heading into town for another work week. I still couldn't stop thinking about how I must look like a foreign life form running on their country road. I felt kind of like the joggers of the 80's, when people began to run around their cities in bright clothing for no apparent reason. People used to think that running was only for when you were getting chased by a wild animal or in a hurry to catch a train (or plane, or taxi...). I got several strange looks, and they were probably annoyed at having to go around me. So the drivers probably didn't enjoy my running, but I sure did. It was refreshing to run outside of my regular environment, and to run somewhere it wasn't as flat as a pancake. Sometimes, a change of scenery can do wonders for your training. My quads didn't like it so much, however, and they are still aching from the downhills. Yep, in contrast to conventional thinking, it's the downhills that really hurt. Also in contrast to conventional thinking, I really enjoyed my time in Arkansas.
We stayed in my aunt's house in Searcy, Arkansas, a town that had an interesting mix of the old and new, country and city. She happened to live off of the main drag in a neighborhood accessed by Honey Hill. This road was a narrow and country, with rolling hills and not much civilization past my aunt's neighborhood. I cracked a smile as we barreled over the hills on the way to Little Rock for the rehearsal dinner. I HAD to run these hills.
So on Saturday morning, I set out at 8:30 AM down Honey Hill Rd, planning to run for an hour at an easy pace so that I could take in the surroundings. The first hill was the biggest, and it was within the first mile of the run. My legs tingled with that hill-running feeling, something I haven't felt since Collegiate Nationals in Tuscaloosa (and I was grossly unprepared for those at the time). The road had no sidewalks, so I plodded along in the opposite direction of traffic, as I had read to do in Runner's World Magazine. Several large trucks passed me, politely waving and granting me the whole lane. People in the south are so friendly that way. I started anticipating the wave, and ran with my arm locked in an acknowledging position. I thought about how Arkansas was such a different world than Florida, how the pace of living was slower, the sky more clear, and the houses more, well, homey. I thought about the wedding later that day, and how proud I am of my cousin. The stream was interrupted, however, when a black dog and his terrier accomplice came running from one of the country houses I was running by. Luckily he was friendly, so I stopped and petted him as he jumped and ran circles around me. That sure doesn't happen every day. I ran to the end of Honey Hill and back, 6.71 miles in 51:21. Not very slow after all...
Sunday I did hill repeats on the aforementioned first big hill. I did 6 of them, sprinting over the top and cruising down the other side. I had definitely forgotten how hard hill repeats are. It was a great and fast workout, and it left my legs pleasantly fatigued. I had a water bottle that I would drink every time I came back over the hill toward my aunt's house, and I would rest a minute before starting the next set. Several cars were passing me, since it was Sunday and everybody was heading to church. After my 4th repeat, two cars a minute apart stopped and asked me "Honey, are you okay?", with a thick southern accent. I mustered up my best southern accent and replied "I'm just fine, just wettin' my whistle real quick." (ok, not really, but I wish I did) But I found it really amusing. No one in Florida would ever ask me such a thing. I guess they aren't used to seeing a red-faced blonde girl running on their road in nothing but a sports bra and running shorts. It should be noted that it was very hot all weekend, with the highs in the 100's and lows in the 80's. The lack of humidity was nice, but it was like going from the sauna to the oven. The feels-like temperature was 112 degrees the night of the wedding. I could have easily passed out on the side of the road, and if I did, I have no doubts that I would be quickly resuscitated with sweet tea and homemade biscuits and jam.
Monday I did the same workout as Friday, running 6.7 miles. We were going to be traveling all day, so I had to do something in order to keep me from going crazy on the plane. I was able to relax a little more this time, as I was more familiar with the route and had a feel for the distance. This time I left the house closer to 7:30, and the temperature was very tolerable. I saw my furry friends again around mile two, and was passed by a lot of cars heading into town for another work week. I still couldn't stop thinking about how I must look like a foreign life form running on their country road. I felt kind of like the joggers of the 80's, when people began to run around their cities in bright clothing for no apparent reason. People used to think that running was only for when you were getting chased by a wild animal or in a hurry to catch a train (or plane, or taxi...). I got several strange looks, and they were probably annoyed at having to go around me. So the drivers probably didn't enjoy my running, but I sure did. It was refreshing to run outside of my regular environment, and to run somewhere it wasn't as flat as a pancake. Sometimes, a change of scenery can do wonders for your training. My quads didn't like it so much, however, and they are still aching from the downhills. Yep, in contrast to conventional thinking, it's the downhills that really hurt. Also in contrast to conventional thinking, I really enjoyed my time in Arkansas.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
A lot of things can happen on a 14 mile run...
I walked out of the door at 6:40 am on Saturday, fueled with a granola bar and half a banana, ready to take on 13 miles of road. It was humid and already 81 degrees, but the weather felt tolerable (you know there's a problem when you start calling 81 degrees "cool") I meandered across the street, took a deep breath, and tapped the start button on my watch. I have grown to cherish my Saturday long runs; I'm in love with the long solitude, the sunrise, and the challenge of distance. I didn't seem to mind that my legs were burning with lactic acid left over from Friday's 7.5 mile workout (see workout below).
About 4 miles in, a cramp began to take a hold of my stomach. My thoughts immediately shifted to my first Olympic distance triathlon, when I walk-ran the first 3 miles and was in the most pain of my life. I thought also about Tuscaloosa just 3 months ago, and how hot it was that day. "Well, at least it isn't 90 degrees yet..." I thought, trying to find some positive light. Then I remembered an article I read about a world champion triathlete. The article said that the triathlete was having stomach problems every time he raced, so once a month he would fill his stomach with Mexican food and then go out for a run. He said that his stomach "blew up" as it did during his races, and he learned to mentally cope and to push through the discomfort. Talk about training outside the box. So, to apply this to my current situation, I decided that I was happy that my stomach felt like it was going to explode. It was going to give me a mental edge in the upcoming fall racing season. But as I neared my 6.5 mile turnaround, I realized that the rest of this run was going to be really uncomfortable. If I ran just another half a mile, there was a water fountain and a bathroom in downtown Dunedin. I decided that I had suffered enough, and ran the extra half a mile.
Feeling better, I made the turn for home in good spirits. After passing Curlew, (my 4 miles to go landmark) a smile spread across my face. Another long run down! However, I met a new obstacle. I heard this voice: "Hey! Are you going to keep running south? I have 59 miles to go, do you mind if I follow you?" My head swiveled to my right, and I saw and old, sun-shriveled man in orange swimming trunks from the 80's and a pair of flip flops. I laughed. 59 miles? He must be joking, he's wearing flip flops. I kept running, and I threw a "yeah" as an answer to appease him. But then suddenly, the man was running beside me. He went on to tell me that he had been running since 2 am that morning, and that he had started in Madeira beach. He was planning on covering 75 miles that day. He talked about how he runs over 200 miles a week, and told me several times to Google "flip flop man" to learn more about him. (he later told me he has Alziemer's, so that's why he repeated himself a lot) His mouth moved just as quickly as his flip-flop clad feet; he talked about how he didn't quite get the Guiness World Record for miles in 6 days, how he was 66 years old, and that he always runs shirtless and without sunscreen, even in the winter. Although I was very weirded out, he did help me keep my mind off of the fatigue settling into my legs. The man kept running ahead of me and zig-zagging across the trail, apparently trying to avoid the sun the best he could. He kept telling me how I was running much faster than he usually does, and that he should probably slow down, but he kept sprinting ahead of me. I was getting angry because I was trying to keep up with him, and I was getting tired and didn't need to run fast on my LSD (long slow distance) day. He later admitted he "doesn't usually run this fast" and felt like he "needed to impress" me. Ew. Weird.
He finally dropped off my pace by Crystal Beach, and I had just half a mile left to hammer out. I swear, anything and everything can happen when you're out there for almost 2 hours (time: 1:52:03). It was definitely an eventful run, and a mile more than I had planned. Good thing next week is a cut back week.
Friday's workout (it's a good one!)
10 minutes marathon pace
2 minute jog
8 minutes half-marathon pace
4 minute jog
6 minutes 10K pace
6 minute jog
4 minutes 5K pace
8 minute jog
2 minutes mile pace
10 minute jog/cooldown
About 4 miles in, a cramp began to take a hold of my stomach. My thoughts immediately shifted to my first Olympic distance triathlon, when I walk-ran the first 3 miles and was in the most pain of my life. I thought also about Tuscaloosa just 3 months ago, and how hot it was that day. "Well, at least it isn't 90 degrees yet..." I thought, trying to find some positive light. Then I remembered an article I read about a world champion triathlete. The article said that the triathlete was having stomach problems every time he raced, so once a month he would fill his stomach with Mexican food and then go out for a run. He said that his stomach "blew up" as it did during his races, and he learned to mentally cope and to push through the discomfort. Talk about training outside the box. So, to apply this to my current situation, I decided that I was happy that my stomach felt like it was going to explode. It was going to give me a mental edge in the upcoming fall racing season. But as I neared my 6.5 mile turnaround, I realized that the rest of this run was going to be really uncomfortable. If I ran just another half a mile, there was a water fountain and a bathroom in downtown Dunedin. I decided that I had suffered enough, and ran the extra half a mile.
Feeling better, I made the turn for home in good spirits. After passing Curlew, (my 4 miles to go landmark) a smile spread across my face. Another long run down! However, I met a new obstacle. I heard this voice: "Hey! Are you going to keep running south? I have 59 miles to go, do you mind if I follow you?" My head swiveled to my right, and I saw and old, sun-shriveled man in orange swimming trunks from the 80's and a pair of flip flops. I laughed. 59 miles? He must be joking, he's wearing flip flops. I kept running, and I threw a "yeah" as an answer to appease him. But then suddenly, the man was running beside me. He went on to tell me that he had been running since 2 am that morning, and that he had started in Madeira beach. He was planning on covering 75 miles that day. He talked about how he runs over 200 miles a week, and told me several times to Google "flip flop man" to learn more about him. (he later told me he has Alziemer's, so that's why he repeated himself a lot) His mouth moved just as quickly as his flip-flop clad feet; he talked about how he didn't quite get the Guiness World Record for miles in 6 days, how he was 66 years old, and that he always runs shirtless and without sunscreen, even in the winter. Although I was very weirded out, he did help me keep my mind off of the fatigue settling into my legs. The man kept running ahead of me and zig-zagging across the trail, apparently trying to avoid the sun the best he could. He kept telling me how I was running much faster than he usually does, and that he should probably slow down, but he kept sprinting ahead of me. I was getting angry because I was trying to keep up with him, and I was getting tired and didn't need to run fast on my LSD (long slow distance) day. He later admitted he "doesn't usually run this fast" and felt like he "needed to impress" me. Ew. Weird.
He finally dropped off my pace by Crystal Beach, and I had just half a mile left to hammer out. I swear, anything and everything can happen when you're out there for almost 2 hours (time: 1:52:03). It was definitely an eventful run, and a mile more than I had planned. Good thing next week is a cut back week.
Friday's workout (it's a good one!)
10 minutes marathon pace
2 minute jog
8 minutes half-marathon pace
4 minute jog
6 minutes 10K pace
6 minute jog
4 minutes 5K pace
8 minute jog
2 minutes mile pace
10 minute jog/cooldown
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
If you never try...
"If you never try then you'll never know exactly what you're worth" -Coldplay
I am relaxing after a tough morning track workout and a gym lifting session, listening to music and getting ready for an evening open water swim. I usually listen to music mostly while running, but I've killed three ipods within a month with my own sweat (don't ask me how, because I don't know) so I've had to get my music fix elsewhere. I've grown to love Coldplay for their awesome lyrics and English rock vibe. I came across this line in the song "Fix you", off of their X and Y album. It has to be the best running-related line I have ever heard in a song (besides, maybe "Tramps like us, baby we were born to run" by Bruce Springsteen)
Endurance sports are all about testing your limits. How fast can I go? How far can I go? Where is the breaking point, when my legs stop moving and my diaphragm can't manage another labored breath? These are questions that will unanswered if we do not try. Never go through life not knowing what "could be"; potential is an awful thing to waste. Shoot for the moon, and even if you don't make it, you'll still land among the stars. Having big dreams is frustrating most of the time, but the path to success is paved with failure and perseverance. Perseverance is the key, because you never know when your time will come. Triumph is sometimes found in the most unlikely of places, and it will will never be found if you stop looking.
Just because something is unlikely doesn't mean you shouldn't give it a go. Goals are always worth having, because the pursuit is just as exhilarating as actually achieving that benchmark. The process of training is magical, and so satisfying. It seems that I've raced countless times and trained thousands of hours, with limited success. Good thing I love training, or else I would have quit a long time ago. I'm still searching for what I'm worth, though. If I never try, then I'll never know.
But for now, this is what I'm dreaming of :)
I am relaxing after a tough morning track workout and a gym lifting session, listening to music and getting ready for an evening open water swim. I usually listen to music mostly while running, but I've killed three ipods within a month with my own sweat (don't ask me how, because I don't know) so I've had to get my music fix elsewhere. I've grown to love Coldplay for their awesome lyrics and English rock vibe. I came across this line in the song "Fix you", off of their X and Y album. It has to be the best running-related line I have ever heard in a song (besides, maybe "Tramps like us, baby we were born to run" by Bruce Springsteen)
Endurance sports are all about testing your limits. How fast can I go? How far can I go? Where is the breaking point, when my legs stop moving and my diaphragm can't manage another labored breath? These are questions that will unanswered if we do not try. Never go through life not knowing what "could be"; potential is an awful thing to waste. Shoot for the moon, and even if you don't make it, you'll still land among the stars. Having big dreams is frustrating most of the time, but the path to success is paved with failure and perseverance. Perseverance is the key, because you never know when your time will come. Triumph is sometimes found in the most unlikely of places, and it will will never be found if you stop looking.
Just because something is unlikely doesn't mean you shouldn't give it a go. Goals are always worth having, because the pursuit is just as exhilarating as actually achieving that benchmark. The process of training is magical, and so satisfying. It seems that I've raced countless times and trained thousands of hours, with limited success. Good thing I love training, or else I would have quit a long time ago. I'm still searching for what I'm worth, though. If I never try, then I'll never know.
But for now, this is what I'm dreaming of :)
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Grains in an hourglass
What is time, other than just grains in an hourglass? It governs how we live our daily lives, and it certainly plays a major role in an athlete's training. I'm always thinking about how long I'm training every day, and how long it takes me to cover a certain distance. But I'm starting to wonder, is time overrated? Is there something better out there than just a few numbers?
Yesterday I went for a recovery run, and I made the awful mistake of running a route that I know very, very well. When I hit the stop button on my watch, I already knew what pace I had run without having to calculate anything. I kept telling myself that the run had to be slow, in order to achieve the desired effect: recovery. And it was. It was exactly the pace I wanted it to be. But for some reason, it really bothered me that I had run a relatively short run THAT slow. I am new to the world of "proper" training; in my first years as a distance runner, almost every run was at the same medium pace. However, I have discovered that you should train over a wide variety of paces, depending on the purpose of the run. Makes a lot of sense, right? Well then why did it bother me so much? Answer: I am a slave to the clock, just like many other distance athletes are. And it's a shame. Training is a lot less stressful when you go about things by feel. Each day you should use the energy that is easily available to you; you shouldn't have to dig really deep on a daily basis. Your body will tell you when it wants to expend itself, as I have found out over the course of this summer. There have been times where I've felt like super woman, and other times where I've felt like a super slacker. But I think I'm finally starting to understand how to "listen" to my body. For example, this morning it told me to blog instead of run (I'm going to run later, of course :) ).
Another thing that amazes me is how a few seconds difference in a finishing time can be the difference between success and complete failure. We get these numbers stuck in our heads, and if we come in a few seconds tardy, we have failed. If I were to run a 20:01 5K, it would be a personal best. But it would also be a failure, because it isn't under my ultimate goal of 20:00. It's sad, but true.
What I do love about time, though, is how it seems to stop while I train. I'm in another world, where chronological time doesn't exist, and doesn't matter. While I was in school, I loved my morning workout because it was the hour of peace before the rest of the day was placed heavily on my shoulders. It was the hour of my day that never happened. Training is like leaving the world at one time, and then re-entering it at another. I always know that time has passed, because I most likely timed it on my watch. But I always feel like the day stops when I'm on the roads.
Time is important, but not really. After all, it's just grains in an hourglass.
Yesterday I went for a recovery run, and I made the awful mistake of running a route that I know very, very well. When I hit the stop button on my watch, I already knew what pace I had run without having to calculate anything. I kept telling myself that the run had to be slow, in order to achieve the desired effect: recovery. And it was. It was exactly the pace I wanted it to be. But for some reason, it really bothered me that I had run a relatively short run THAT slow. I am new to the world of "proper" training; in my first years as a distance runner, almost every run was at the same medium pace. However, I have discovered that you should train over a wide variety of paces, depending on the purpose of the run. Makes a lot of sense, right? Well then why did it bother me so much? Answer: I am a slave to the clock, just like many other distance athletes are. And it's a shame. Training is a lot less stressful when you go about things by feel. Each day you should use the energy that is easily available to you; you shouldn't have to dig really deep on a daily basis. Your body will tell you when it wants to expend itself, as I have found out over the course of this summer. There have been times where I've felt like super woman, and other times where I've felt like a super slacker. But I think I'm finally starting to understand how to "listen" to my body. For example, this morning it told me to blog instead of run (I'm going to run later, of course :) ).
Another thing that amazes me is how a few seconds difference in a finishing time can be the difference between success and complete failure. We get these numbers stuck in our heads, and if we come in a few seconds tardy, we have failed. If I were to run a 20:01 5K, it would be a personal best. But it would also be a failure, because it isn't under my ultimate goal of 20:00. It's sad, but true.
What I do love about time, though, is how it seems to stop while I train. I'm in another world, where chronological time doesn't exist, and doesn't matter. While I was in school, I loved my morning workout because it was the hour of peace before the rest of the day was placed heavily on my shoulders. It was the hour of my day that never happened. Training is like leaving the world at one time, and then re-entering it at another. I always know that time has passed, because I most likely timed it on my watch. But I always feel like the day stops when I'm on the roads.
Time is important, but not really. After all, it's just grains in an hourglass.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Things that inspire me
This is not so much of a blog, but rather a list of things that keep me going. Not many people understand why I do what I do, so here's a few reasons why I swim, bike, and run my way through life.
1. Nothing beats the satisfaction of running (or swimming, or biking) a PR. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the finish line and the elation after running Gasparilla in 1:34:17. I can see the clock and the crowd, feel the smile on my face and my fist pumping into the air. I remember hugging my mom after and saying "I did it! I did it!". I always pull this memory up when I'm having a bad run.
2. Chrissie Wellington. The more I read about her, the more she inspires me. She is an ironman champion, and an incredible athlete. She ran the fastest marathon in women's ironman history, which had her running blistering 6:20 miles after a 112 mile bike ride. But what inspires me the most is her demeanor. She takes a very "happy-go-lucky" approach to triathlon training, and she is always smiling. She is a great advocate for this sport, and she reminds me that I need to do this for fun, and not be so intense all of the time.
3. Races. Races are so much fun, motivating, and exciting. Sure, I could go run 3.1 miles on the Pinellas Trail any day of the week. But it's not everyday that I get a race bib, a cheering section, and hundreds of people to run with. I usually go into a race with butterflies and self-doubts, but I always end the day with a positive experience and pure enjoyment. Plus, you get your workout in super early and get the rest of the day to enjoy your accomplishment! Oh, and I can't forget the shwag. Gotta love free stuff.
4. TriGators. The best decision I have made in college so far was to join the club triathlon team. It's so cool to be a part of something, and to have awesome practices with a motivating atmosphere. I love wearing the orange and blue when I race, and the cheers of "Go Gators!" that I get no matter where I race. I remember the first Triathlon I did with the TriGators. It was the Sand Key triathlon, not too far from my house. I got goosebumps from the team cheer we did before the race and the high fives from teammates after the race. "This is SO much fun!" I remember telling everyone in sight that day.
5. There is always room for improvement, and there is always someone faster than you. No explanation needed. Get out there and train.
6. My mom and dad. They are my biggest fans, and they make every effort they can to watch me race. They get up with me at 5 AM just to see me race for a total of 3 minutes (if they're lucky) I am so thankful for their support and love that they put into my life. I would not be where I am today or where I am going to be tomorrow without them.
7. Goals. I always have big goals and expectations for myself. Sometimes they are time goals, or sometimes emotional goals, but they are always ambitious. It gets me going, and although I may not believe in myself on the surface, deep down I think that I am capable of anything. I sure hope that no one is ever as hard on me than I am on myself. These goals get me out on the roads, in the pool, or to the gym.
8. How far I've come. Ever since my middle school mishap, I have been improving as a person and an athlete. I am ashamed of that period of time, and I'm doing my best to run away from it. I'm fitter and stronger than ever, and those scars are slowly fading.
When all else fails, just keep going my friends. Hope some of his inspires you too :)
1. Nothing beats the satisfaction of running (or swimming, or biking) a PR. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the finish line and the elation after running Gasparilla in 1:34:17. I can see the clock and the crowd, feel the smile on my face and my fist pumping into the air. I remember hugging my mom after and saying "I did it! I did it!". I always pull this memory up when I'm having a bad run.
2. Chrissie Wellington. The more I read about her, the more she inspires me. She is an ironman champion, and an incredible athlete. She ran the fastest marathon in women's ironman history, which had her running blistering 6:20 miles after a 112 mile bike ride. But what inspires me the most is her demeanor. She takes a very "happy-go-lucky" approach to triathlon training, and she is always smiling. She is a great advocate for this sport, and she reminds me that I need to do this for fun, and not be so intense all of the time.
3. Races. Races are so much fun, motivating, and exciting. Sure, I could go run 3.1 miles on the Pinellas Trail any day of the week. But it's not everyday that I get a race bib, a cheering section, and hundreds of people to run with. I usually go into a race with butterflies and self-doubts, but I always end the day with a positive experience and pure enjoyment. Plus, you get your workout in super early and get the rest of the day to enjoy your accomplishment! Oh, and I can't forget the shwag. Gotta love free stuff.
4. TriGators. The best decision I have made in college so far was to join the club triathlon team. It's so cool to be a part of something, and to have awesome practices with a motivating atmosphere. I love wearing the orange and blue when I race, and the cheers of "Go Gators!" that I get no matter where I race. I remember the first Triathlon I did with the TriGators. It was the Sand Key triathlon, not too far from my house. I got goosebumps from the team cheer we did before the race and the high fives from teammates after the race. "This is SO much fun!" I remember telling everyone in sight that day.
5. There is always room for improvement, and there is always someone faster than you. No explanation needed. Get out there and train.
6. My mom and dad. They are my biggest fans, and they make every effort they can to watch me race. They get up with me at 5 AM just to see me race for a total of 3 minutes (if they're lucky) I am so thankful for their support and love that they put into my life. I would not be where I am today or where I am going to be tomorrow without them.
7. Goals. I always have big goals and expectations for myself. Sometimes they are time goals, or sometimes emotional goals, but they are always ambitious. It gets me going, and although I may not believe in myself on the surface, deep down I think that I am capable of anything. I sure hope that no one is ever as hard on me than I am on myself. These goals get me out on the roads, in the pool, or to the gym.
8. How far I've come. Ever since my middle school mishap, I have been improving as a person and an athlete. I am ashamed of that period of time, and I'm doing my best to run away from it. I'm fitter and stronger than ever, and those scars are slowly fading.
When all else fails, just keep going my friends. Hope some of his inspires you too :)
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Love to Run
I remembered this story that I wrote for my senior scrapbook. This page was supposed to be about our first love. Of course, I wrote about running. It reminds me of why I do this, and how far I've come. Enjoy.
When I was an itty bitty freshman, I was obsessed with soccer. Soccer was my life; I lived, breathed, and loved soccer. Going to practice twice a week was my favorite thing to do, and I cherished every Saturday morning in which I had to be at the soccer field at 7 a.m. for tournament play. I enjoyed every bruise, anguished in every loss, and cursed myself at every mistake I made with the ball. If you told me that by my senior year I wouldn’t even touch a soccer ball, I would think you were crazy. Well, here I am, getting ready to graduate, and I haven’t played a formal soccer game in about a year. However, I’ve found a new obsession: running.
When I was an itty bitty freshman, I was obsessed with soccer. Soccer was my life; I lived, breathed, and loved soccer. Going to practice twice a week was my favorite thing to do, and I cherished every Saturday morning in which I had to be at the soccer field at 7 a.m. for tournament play. I enjoyed every bruise, anguished in every loss, and cursed myself at every mistake I made with the ball. If you told me that by my senior year I wouldn’t even touch a soccer ball, I would think you were crazy. Well, here I am, getting ready to graduate, and I haven’t played a formal soccer game in about a year. However, I’ve found a new obsession: running.
I remember in middle school, when my friend asked me to join the track team with her, “No way!” I insisted, “I don’t even like the running we do in soccer!”. So then again,when I was a freshman, I was reluctant when my mom suggested that I join the track team. But I talked to Coach Jenkins in my weight training class, and I decided to give it a go. I wanted to run the shortest distance possible. When the coaches asked what races I wanted to run, I said the 100 meter dash. After a few practices, they sent me to the “dark side” with the distance runners. Success was not found right away; I took a break in the middle of my first 800 interval, wheezed when we did 400’s, and feared track practice every day. But eventually, I found my niche and could keep up with the upper classman runners, mostly because I was just so darn competitive. I wanted to beat them so bad. I ended up over training and developing a nasty case of the shin splints.
My injury did not deter me. I came back sophomore year with even more determination; I never missed a practice. I was on the track every day possible from December to mid March. That was when disaster struck. On the second lap of an 800 meter race, I was accelerating towards the finish when -POP- I felt my hamstring tear, and collapsed to the track. I stared down at the white lines on either side of my slumped over body. As the other competitors stampeded past me, I knew I had really done it this time. I limped to the finish line, 150 meters away.
So why am I still running, you ask? Well, that’s what this chapter is all about. I truly love running, and I have a passion of self-improvement beyond what I ever had before. I had the same desire when I played soccer, but the sport of running amplifies it, and that’s what I love about it. Everything in running is earned, never given. Distance runners aren’t born. They are made through hard work, dedication, and with a little bit of insanity. It’s impossible to get on a cross country team just because of who you are or because your parents begged for you. You have to be able to run a fast enough time, and if you can’t, you’ve got to dig deep and train to earn a spot. Cross country is an amazing sport of teamwork, accountability, and strength, and when I finally found it junior year, I
realized that running is what I really want to do. I feel like I lost two years of high school
by not running cross country from the start. I met some truly awesome people through cross country, and I have no idea what I would do without them.
A lot of people would use this chapter to talk about their first crush or first
“significant other”. Running is my significant other. We spend time with each other every day, whether it is pleasant or not. We hang out even when we don’t want to even see each other’s face. And we fight. A lot. However, we always come back into each other’s arms, happy to have found each other and to be in love. Boys will come and go, but running and I will be together forever.
Friday, July 1, 2011
The enigma of triathlon training
As a new triathlete, I'm going to admit that I don't have a clue about how to properly train for a triathlon. I'm stuck in between being a runner and being a triathlete; I can't fathom running only 3 days per week as most age group triathletes do. My training is a random collection of workouts, strung together as conveniently as I can around my work schedule. I try to follow a few "rules", like always running easy the day after a track workout and avoiding back to back butt-kicking workouts. But I obviously don't know enough to keep me from exhausting myself.
I crashed hard on my tempo run on Thursday. I felt terrible just 8 minutes into a 25 minute effort; there was a veil of fatigue over my body. After stopping once, I gutted out the rest of the run at a slower pace and discovered that I had run at a 7:12 pace. I did that for 13.1 miles just 3 months ago. Now I could barely hold it for 3.5 miles. I was temporarily discouraged. I was wondering about my fitness, my toughness, and my training. "I've got to be doing something wrong", I thought. But then I realized something. Part of training is not just the continual strengthening of the body, it's the indefinite search for improvement. So Thursday I failed at my workout, but I succeeded in realizing that it wasn't the end of the world. I'm not out of shape, I just had a bad day. I told myself to just move on, and then I did. It was a good small victory for the day.
I have yet to find a way to effectively train for all three sports at once. Now I'm running and swimming a lot, so much so that I can sometimes hear my bike crying at night (kidding). A triathlete has to be a jack of all trades, then work them seamlessly into one race. A cool way to look at it (courtesy of Colorado's tri team): A triathlete is like a superhero, and the transition area is like a proverbial changing room. The racer starts out as Michael Phelps, a strong and powerful swimmer. They then emerge from the water and magically change into Lance Armstrong, tearing up the roads on a sleek machine. After riding into the changing room, out running comes Ryan Hall, charging towards the finish line. This is a great mentality for racing, just focusing on one discipline at a time and doing your absolute best at that point in time.
I'll figure this sport out eventually, when I stop being so ignorant and close-minded.
The Quote: "Recovery is part of training, not the absence of training"
The Song (melody by Cee Lo Green):
I see you ridin' round town on the bike I love, and I'm like 'forget you'
I guess my entire bank account wasn't enough, and I'm like 'forget you and forget your bike too'
If I could buy it yeah I'm sure I'd ride it, ain't that some shh...
With this pain in my chest I wish this interval would end, but forget you...
Wow. I need my ipod back...
I crashed hard on my tempo run on Thursday. I felt terrible just 8 minutes into a 25 minute effort; there was a veil of fatigue over my body. After stopping once, I gutted out the rest of the run at a slower pace and discovered that I had run at a 7:12 pace. I did that for 13.1 miles just 3 months ago. Now I could barely hold it for 3.5 miles. I was temporarily discouraged. I was wondering about my fitness, my toughness, and my training. "I've got to be doing something wrong", I thought. But then I realized something. Part of training is not just the continual strengthening of the body, it's the indefinite search for improvement. So Thursday I failed at my workout, but I succeeded in realizing that it wasn't the end of the world. I'm not out of shape, I just had a bad day. I told myself to just move on, and then I did. It was a good small victory for the day.
I have yet to find a way to effectively train for all three sports at once. Now I'm running and swimming a lot, so much so that I can sometimes hear my bike crying at night (kidding). A triathlete has to be a jack of all trades, then work them seamlessly into one race. A cool way to look at it (courtesy of Colorado's tri team): A triathlete is like a superhero, and the transition area is like a proverbial changing room. The racer starts out as Michael Phelps, a strong and powerful swimmer. They then emerge from the water and magically change into Lance Armstrong, tearing up the roads on a sleek machine. After riding into the changing room, out running comes Ryan Hall, charging towards the finish line. This is a great mentality for racing, just focusing on one discipline at a time and doing your absolute best at that point in time.
I'll figure this sport out eventually, when I stop being so ignorant and close-minded.
The Quote: "Recovery is part of training, not the absence of training"
The Song (melody by Cee Lo Green):
I see you ridin' round town on the bike I love, and I'm like 'forget you'
I guess my entire bank account wasn't enough, and I'm like 'forget you and forget your bike too'
If I could buy it yeah I'm sure I'd ride it, ain't that some shh...
With this pain in my chest I wish this interval would end, but forget you...
Wow. I need my ipod back...
Monday, June 27, 2011
no ipod, no sun, no problem
I decided at the last minute to enter the Morton Plant Mease Triathlon on Sunday, thinking I would find some good competition and a scenic race. Well, I woke up that morning to lighting, dark clouds, and eventually a torrential downpour. I sat in my car for a while after setting up transition in the hopes that I could keep my shoes dry if the race actually occurred. The rain stopped, but the lightning didn't; large bolts rocketed through the sky to the north, right behind the bridge that we were supposed to trek our bikes up later that day. After a 45 minute delay, I finally toed the line with the elite athletes and the other 15-19 year olds. However, they had a "special announcement" before starting the race. That can't be good. They decided to cancel the bike a do a "swim-run". To be honest, I can't believe they let us race at all. Rain-heavy clouds loomed behind us, and strikes were still falling from the sky. It was hard to stay mentally "locked-in", but I dashed into the water just as excited as I always am before a triathlon. I sprinted out of the water in just about 9 minutes, and struggled with my running shoes before gutting my way through a rain-soaked 5K. I felt cheated with just over a 34 minute workout.
So, naturally, with the air temperature finally closer to 80 degrees than 90 degrees, I headed out for a run that afternoon. My ipod decided to stop working again, so this would be a quiet run. Wow, I'm glad I had no music. The trail was deserted as a result of the heavy rain, and the rain still leaked from the sky in misty drops. I felt a sense of serenity, of peace, and pure enjoyment of motion. It was the definition of flow. The run came to me without struggle; I felt like I was floating. My legs had apparently forgotten the hard 5K I ran that morning. The nature sounds lulled my mind to sleep; I thought about everything and nothing at the same time. It was the best run that I've had in a long time, and it lasted 10 miles...something I probably shouldn't have done, given my injury history :)
When I first started running, I couldn't leave the house without my ipod. Now, I've come to enjoy my runs with no soundtrack. Don't get me wrong, I still love my ipod for tempo runs and those days when I'm short on motivation. But I encourage you to try and leave the tunes at home every once in a while. It's great to really sync yourself with the motion; not sync the motion with the music. You notice so much more even on the most mundane of routes, and you'll be surprised about the thoughts that pop into your head. I might have to get used to it, given the chances of Apple giving me another ipod.
So, naturally, with the air temperature finally closer to 80 degrees than 90 degrees, I headed out for a run that afternoon. My ipod decided to stop working again, so this would be a quiet run. Wow, I'm glad I had no music. The trail was deserted as a result of the heavy rain, and the rain still leaked from the sky in misty drops. I felt a sense of serenity, of peace, and pure enjoyment of motion. It was the definition of flow. The run came to me without struggle; I felt like I was floating. My legs had apparently forgotten the hard 5K I ran that morning. The nature sounds lulled my mind to sleep; I thought about everything and nothing at the same time. It was the best run that I've had in a long time, and it lasted 10 miles...something I probably shouldn't have done, given my injury history :)
When I first started running, I couldn't leave the house without my ipod. Now, I've come to enjoy my runs with no soundtrack. Don't get me wrong, I still love my ipod for tempo runs and those days when I'm short on motivation. But I encourage you to try and leave the tunes at home every once in a while. It's great to really sync yourself with the motion; not sync the motion with the music. You notice so much more even on the most mundane of routes, and you'll be surprised about the thoughts that pop into your head. I might have to get used to it, given the chances of Apple giving me another ipod.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
What does this new brain research mean?
In an effort to increase my exercise science knowledge this summer, I've been reading countless magazines and books targeted at endurance training and fitness. Several times I have seen columns by exercise physiologists that report that the newest area of study in exercise science is a more brain-centered approach.
A quick synopsis of this "new" idea: Previously, it was thought that lactic acid accumulation was the culprit when we slow down during a hard bout of exercise. In other words, fatigue had to do with the change in physiology of the muscle caused by exercise. Now, researchers have found that exercise- related fatigue is actually a defense mechanism utilized by the brain in order to prevent us from actually"exercising" to death. So, we slow down because of panic signals from the brain.
Of course our brain isn't going to let us kill ourselves while training. Isn't that obvious common sense, not ground-breaking science? I don't think it's really that new, it's just a fact that has been overlooked for a long time. What I really don't understand is how we can apply this to how athletes train. Basically, it means that the people who are able to suffer the most in training and racing will be the fittest. Ability to suffer, as far as I know, is not a learned skill. It's one of those genetic traits that can only be trained to a certain extent...and then it plateaus. So then how has this brain-centered approach changed exercise science, other than changing our perspective? Sure, it's a great discovery, but at the end of the day a solid mix of training and recovery will produce the most fitness.
Personal experience: I have trouble racing 5Ks because of the speed and high level of suffering involved from start to finish. I can run 3.1 miles while sleeping, but when I try to run as fast as I can, I fail miserably. I am more suited to a half-marathon, where running your last 5K in 21:30 is pretty darn good. I can spread my effort out over the race; by the time I get to that 10 mile mark, I can zombie-run myself to the finish. Mentally, I have had much more positive experiences with the HM than with a 5K. I've had terrible time trials, xc races, and local 5Ks...but I have improved with every HM I have run. It comes back to mindset: you have to set yourself up for success. (which I'm hoping I can do at the mpm triathlon this weekend :) )
A quick synopsis of this "new" idea: Previously, it was thought that lactic acid accumulation was the culprit when we slow down during a hard bout of exercise. In other words, fatigue had to do with the change in physiology of the muscle caused by exercise. Now, researchers have found that exercise- related fatigue is actually a defense mechanism utilized by the brain in order to prevent us from actually"exercising" to death. So, we slow down because of panic signals from the brain.
Of course our brain isn't going to let us kill ourselves while training. Isn't that obvious common sense, not ground-breaking science? I don't think it's really that new, it's just a fact that has been overlooked for a long time. What I really don't understand is how we can apply this to how athletes train. Basically, it means that the people who are able to suffer the most in training and racing will be the fittest. Ability to suffer, as far as I know, is not a learned skill. It's one of those genetic traits that can only be trained to a certain extent...and then it plateaus. So then how has this brain-centered approach changed exercise science, other than changing our perspective? Sure, it's a great discovery, but at the end of the day a solid mix of training and recovery will produce the most fitness.
Personal experience: I have trouble racing 5Ks because of the speed and high level of suffering involved from start to finish. I can run 3.1 miles while sleeping, but when I try to run as fast as I can, I fail miserably. I am more suited to a half-marathon, where running your last 5K in 21:30 is pretty darn good. I can spread my effort out over the race; by the time I get to that 10 mile mark, I can zombie-run myself to the finish. Mentally, I have had much more positive experiences with the HM than with a 5K. I've had terrible time trials, xc races, and local 5Ks...but I have improved with every HM I have run. It comes back to mindset: you have to set yourself up for success. (which I'm hoping I can do at the mpm triathlon this weekend :) )
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Just Let it Flow
Foreword: This blog is titled "On the Run" because it is literally things I think of while I run. It will be posted irregularly, have random content, and will be poorly written. Of course, the idea to even create this blog came to me while running, and I love thinking of blog topics while I run. It's my new favorite thing :)
"Mind is everything. Muscle - pieces of rubber. All that I am, I am because of my mind." This Paavo Nurmi quote came to me today while I was slogging through one of my first runs post-achilles injury this morning. Endurance sports appear to be an ultimate test of fitness. But the truth is that they are a mind game in disguise. Your muscles need your brain's permission before they drag your body through training or to the starting line of a race. Oftentimes you want to quit before your muscles do. Without direction, the muscles will go all day--provided they have enough fuel. Most of us think that mental strength needs to come in the middle of a race or workout, when the lungs are screaming and the legs are pleading mercy. However, your mentality before a workout or race has a bigger impact on your feelings while you're in motion--and therefore affects your performance.
The majority of athletes have experienced a mental breakdown in the middle of a workout or race, and I am exhibit A for such malfunctions. I have sabotaged many a race and workout by defeating myself mentally. I realized that perhaps it is my mentality going into the event that causes negative thoughts during the event. I didn't ruin my first half marathon, triathlon, olympic triathlon, or cross country race. Why? Because it was something new. I put no pressure on myself because I had never done it before. I looked at each event as an adventure. I felt the worst pain in my life during my first olympic distance triathlon, but I didn't give up. I just wanted to keep going, and it was the most mental strength that I have ever displayed in my athletic career. I can't say the same for a couple of my subsequent Olympic distance races. I truly wanted to quit several times this season. My mentality was different once I had done it before: I wanted to go faster, and therefore was more in tune with my body instead of just enjoying the race and being smart.
The same goes for workouts. I will run the same pace in a 5 mile run and a 10 mile run, but the 5 mile run will feel more difficult. If I lace up my shoes with the knowledge that I am going further, I give myself permission to go the distance. If I know I only have to expend my energy over 5 miles, then that's what I will do. The will to train is like clay: it will mold to your expectations for the workout.
Example: I rode to Treasure Island on my bike to visit my parents, who stayed on the beach last weekend. It was 25 miles one way, which meant that I was going to cover 50 miles in total. I thought of it as more of an adventure, not a workout. This helped me cope with the distance, and I enjoyed it much more than I would have if I had thought about how "necessary" this long ride was to my fitness. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely hurting at the end, but it was infinitely better to think of it as an adventure.
One of my new mantras while I run is "flow". It reminds me that if I just let my legs pull me along (rather than straining), allow my arms to swing gently at my sides, and embrace the stream of thoughts, I will have a good run. I want the flow to be like a lazy river on my easy days, like powerful rapids on my up-tempo and speedwork days, and like a waterfall on race days. Some days its harder to let it flow than others, but I know I am (and you are) capable of it everyday.
"Mind is everything. Muscle - pieces of rubber. All that I am, I am because of my mind." This Paavo Nurmi quote came to me today while I was slogging through one of my first runs post-achilles injury this morning. Endurance sports appear to be an ultimate test of fitness. But the truth is that they are a mind game in disguise. Your muscles need your brain's permission before they drag your body through training or to the starting line of a race. Oftentimes you want to quit before your muscles do. Without direction, the muscles will go all day--provided they have enough fuel. Most of us think that mental strength needs to come in the middle of a race or workout, when the lungs are screaming and the legs are pleading mercy. However, your mentality before a workout or race has a bigger impact on your feelings while you're in motion--and therefore affects your performance.
The majority of athletes have experienced a mental breakdown in the middle of a workout or race, and I am exhibit A for such malfunctions. I have sabotaged many a race and workout by defeating myself mentally. I realized that perhaps it is my mentality going into the event that causes negative thoughts during the event. I didn't ruin my first half marathon, triathlon, olympic triathlon, or cross country race. Why? Because it was something new. I put no pressure on myself because I had never done it before. I looked at each event as an adventure. I felt the worst pain in my life during my first olympic distance triathlon, but I didn't give up. I just wanted to keep going, and it was the most mental strength that I have ever displayed in my athletic career. I can't say the same for a couple of my subsequent Olympic distance races. I truly wanted to quit several times this season. My mentality was different once I had done it before: I wanted to go faster, and therefore was more in tune with my body instead of just enjoying the race and being smart.
The same goes for workouts. I will run the same pace in a 5 mile run and a 10 mile run, but the 5 mile run will feel more difficult. If I lace up my shoes with the knowledge that I am going further, I give myself permission to go the distance. If I know I only have to expend my energy over 5 miles, then that's what I will do. The will to train is like clay: it will mold to your expectations for the workout.
Example: I rode to Treasure Island on my bike to visit my parents, who stayed on the beach last weekend. It was 25 miles one way, which meant that I was going to cover 50 miles in total. I thought of it as more of an adventure, not a workout. This helped me cope with the distance, and I enjoyed it much more than I would have if I had thought about how "necessary" this long ride was to my fitness. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely hurting at the end, but it was infinitely better to think of it as an adventure.
One of my new mantras while I run is "flow". It reminds me that if I just let my legs pull me along (rather than straining), allow my arms to swing gently at my sides, and embrace the stream of thoughts, I will have a good run. I want the flow to be like a lazy river on my easy days, like powerful rapids on my up-tempo and speedwork days, and like a waterfall on race days. Some days its harder to let it flow than others, but I know I am (and you are) capable of it everyday.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Stop with the superlatives!
As someone who is highly interested in fitness, I consider myself a fitness enthusiast. Although I'd like to call myself an expert, I don't have the degree or the experience to be able to say so. But this observation of mine from the wide world of fitness doesn't (or rather, shouldn't) require much knowledge of biochemistry or muscoskeletal physiology.
Everybody is constantly looking for the "best, biggest, strongest, MOST effective, fastest,etc"- the superlative way of doing things. It's great buisiness and an even better marketing tool, but it does not reflect reality when it comes to becoming fitter, losing weight, or building muscle mass. Your mom was not lying when she told you that you are special. Even though we are all human beings with the same basic physiology and bodily processes, we all have unique inner mechanisms and adapt to stimuli differently. What works for one person may not work for another.
If you open up a fitness magazine at any point in time, my unscientific guess is that there is 75% chance that there will be a "mythbuster" article; one that proclaims to dispel those nasty rumors that spread around local gyms like wildfire. I think these are great, because many casual fitness junkies believe in dogmas that simply aren't true, i.e., fruit is bad for you because it's full of sugar or that low intensity exercise is best because it burns fat. But the problem is that fitness is not a one-way street. It's more like a big grassy field in the middle of nowhere: there is an infinite number of paths to reach any one central point. Just because a method is "unconventional" doesn't mean that it can't be effective, and just because this unconventional method works for some doesn't mean that it will work for all. This is where the superlatives come in: a so-called reputable person finds an exercise that works wonders for his/her small experimental group, and then publishes a book that says it's the "best" way of becoming fit, losing weight, etc. Fitness just isn't meant to work this way.
I came about this opinion while I was reading about two new "unconventional" methods: Crossfit endurance and the barefoot movement in running shoes. Both methods have many followers and even more haters. My opinion on these two is this: they both can be incorporated into any endurance athlete's regimen and significantly increase their performance. If the transition is done correctly, the body will react positively to adapt to the new training stimulus. It's just how our bodies naturally respond to the environment (a defense mechanism). But this isn't what people want to hear. They don't want a "grey" answer. They want the black and white answer: "This is what works, and this is what doesn't work". And who could blame them? Why waste your time and sweat over something that doesn't work?
Anyone who has taken high school anatomy knows that our bodies are extremely fascinating and complex. Therefore, the steps that we take to keep it healthy and make it stronger are also complex. Choosing your exercise routine and diet can be difficult because you need to do self-experimentation and find what works for you. There isn't a cure-all, and there never will be, no matter how much money/brainpower we spend on it. I know much of this is obvious, but its just something to keep in mind when you are in the market for fitness knowledge.
Everybody is constantly looking for the "best, biggest, strongest, MOST effective, fastest,etc"- the superlative way of doing things. It's great buisiness and an even better marketing tool, but it does not reflect reality when it comes to becoming fitter, losing weight, or building muscle mass. Your mom was not lying when she told you that you are special. Even though we are all human beings with the same basic physiology and bodily processes, we all have unique inner mechanisms and adapt to stimuli differently. What works for one person may not work for another.
If you open up a fitness magazine at any point in time, my unscientific guess is that there is 75% chance that there will be a "mythbuster" article; one that proclaims to dispel those nasty rumors that spread around local gyms like wildfire. I think these are great, because many casual fitness junkies believe in dogmas that simply aren't true, i.e., fruit is bad for you because it's full of sugar or that low intensity exercise is best because it burns fat. But the problem is that fitness is not a one-way street. It's more like a big grassy field in the middle of nowhere: there is an infinite number of paths to reach any one central point. Just because a method is "unconventional" doesn't mean that it can't be effective, and just because this unconventional method works for some doesn't mean that it will work for all. This is where the superlatives come in: a so-called reputable person finds an exercise that works wonders for his/her small experimental group, and then publishes a book that says it's the "best" way of becoming fit, losing weight, etc. Fitness just isn't meant to work this way.
I came about this opinion while I was reading about two new "unconventional" methods: Crossfit endurance and the barefoot movement in running shoes. Both methods have many followers and even more haters. My opinion on these two is this: they both can be incorporated into any endurance athlete's regimen and significantly increase their performance. If the transition is done correctly, the body will react positively to adapt to the new training stimulus. It's just how our bodies naturally respond to the environment (a defense mechanism). But this isn't what people want to hear. They don't want a "grey" answer. They want the black and white answer: "This is what works, and this is what doesn't work". And who could blame them? Why waste your time and sweat over something that doesn't work?
Anyone who has taken high school anatomy knows that our bodies are extremely fascinating and complex. Therefore, the steps that we take to keep it healthy and make it stronger are also complex. Choosing your exercise routine and diet can be difficult because you need to do self-experimentation and find what works for you. There isn't a cure-all, and there never will be, no matter how much money/brainpower we spend on it. I know much of this is obvious, but its just something to keep in mind when you are in the market for fitness knowledge.
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