So this week begins my three-week taper before the Chicago Marathon. Tapering consists of an overall reduction in training mileage and intensity in the weeks preceding a big race, allowing the body to recover from the stresses induced by months of hard training, so that the body is fresh for race day. My FAST coaches, however, did not get the memo about this.
Lemme tell you what those slave-drivers made me do this week.
On Tuesday, they made me run this crazy modified version of "The FAST", where I had to run 2 miles hard, then go immediately up the Hill of Death, followed by 1 mile hard. And if that wasn't enough, on Thursday, they made me run 1-mile repeats in a dark and scary cemetery and there were bats flying around and owls hooting and zombies trying to attack me! ZOMBIES!!!
Okay, so I'm lying about the zombies. But the owls and bats were there, I swear! And the moon was full, so there were probably werewolves hiding in the trees. I think I did hear some howling...
But bats and zombies and werewolves aside... If this is a taper, why does it feel so untaperlike??? The coaches are trying to kill me!
And can we talk about my toenail?
*everyone shouts "NOOOOOOOO!" in unison*
Too bad - we're going to talk about it anyway. I made it through all of my marathon training without any weird toenail issues to speak of. But on an easy 5 mile run this week, I came home with a sore 2nd toe. Weird. And after last night's FAST workout, that toe is now clearly destined to lose its nail. Are you kidding me? How is it that I can run 22 miles straight with no problems, but as soon as I start my taper, all my toenails start falling off? Okay, so it's just the one toenail, but still!
Now, who here wants to see pictures of my wonky toenail?
*crickets chirping*
Fine, suit yourselves.
Tough workouts and damaged toenails aside, I must say I am very much looking forward to my relatively short long run this weekend. Twelve miles will seem like a veritable breeze compared with last Sunday's 22 hill-tacular miles. However, as my mileage continues to decrease these next two weeks, it is inevitable that I will once again enter a state of Taper Madness. My blog posts will probably start to make less sense, and will likely be punctuated with random outbursts of virtual cackling. I assure you it's all part of a normal taper.
*cackles wildly* BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Seriously. It's normal.
BWAHAHAHAHAHA!
Peace. Love. Train.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Lucky Ducks and Parallel Universes
Before you ask - NO, I'm not still delirious from my 22 mile run this morning. Well, maybe I am a little bit. But it doesn't explain the title of this post. Trust me.
You see, it was a long run like any other. Except that we started almost an hour late due to Mother Nature's fury (aka, thunderstorms). But once we got started, it was like any other long run. I had the privilege of running with fellow FASTie, Kristi again. This time I didn't bombard her with stories of "Oh that's where I buy cat food" and "Hey, I looked a these apartments when I was apartment-hunting 10 years ago" and "The floor in that McDonald's is really slippery". You're welcome, Kristi!
The first 8 miles passed quickly and we felt strong. It was raining on us a little bit, but at least there was no lightning or torrential downpours. Then Kristi noticed something small and brightly-colored on the road. It was a little rubber duck. Just lying in the middle of the road. Looking lonely and unloved. How could anyone abandon their rubber duck like that? I'll never understand. But I took pity on the poor thing and scooped it up and carried it with me for the rest of the run (yes, I held a rubber duck for 14 miles). And isn't it cute? I like its snazzy giraffe print. It shall henceforth be known as my Lucky Duck.
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There were several people who started their run after us. We expected to get passed by a few of them eventually. But we didn't expect them to do it invisibly. People that had been behind us suddenly appeared ahead of us. And it happened twice. At first, we chalked it up to the other people taking a slightly different route, even though it didn't really make much sense. But when it happened a second time, Kristi and I began to wonder if maybe we were disrupting the space-time continuum somehow. Had we entered a long run parallel universe where everyone who was once behind us suddenly was in front of us? I hypothesized that perhaps we were running so fast, our relative time had slowed down, while everyone else was experiencing normal elapsed Earth-time. Those of you not familiar with the Theory of Relativity might want to brush up on this concept. I'm positive that's what happened to Kristi and me.
After about Mile 15, Kristi took off ahead of me because, well, she is a much faster runner than I am and frankly, I was holding her back. I assured her I didn't mind if she went ahead. It was truly awesome of her to stick with my for 15 miles, although I think she mainly did it because she knew I knew the route and she didn't want to get lost. Or maybe Kristi did want to hear more of my awesome anecdotes and I disappointed her by not telling any, so she took off. Yes, I'm sure that's it. *nods wisely*
The rest of the run passed uneventfully, although I did get honked at by fellow FASTie Melody, who happened to be driving by when I was at about mile 19.5. She actually stopped her car in the middle of a very busy road, and stuck her entire torso out of her car window to wave and yell at me. I was glad she stopped her car in order to do this. Otherwise it may have been like *honk honk wave wave crash*. Seeing her gave me just the pick-me-up I needed to sail through the last 2 miles. Thanks Mel!
So there's the run in all its glory. People who live and run in the area will immediately recognize that we pretty much ran from one side of Peoria to the other and back. That's not something people do every day. I feel pretty accomplished, despite the fact that it's not my first 22-miler. It was certainly my fastest 22-miler, though.
And it was all because of my Lucky Duck. Oh, and because they told me there would be coffee and bagels at the finish. Mmmm.... coffee...
Peace. Love. Train.
You see, it was a long run like any other. Except that we started almost an hour late due to Mother Nature's fury (aka, thunderstorms). But once we got started, it was like any other long run. I had the privilege of running with fellow FASTie, Kristi again. This time I didn't bombard her with stories of "Oh that's where I buy cat food" and "Hey, I looked a these apartments when I was apartment-hunting 10 years ago" and "The floor in that McDonald's is really slippery". You're welcome, Kristi!
The first 8 miles passed quickly and we felt strong. It was raining on us a little bit, but at least there was no lightning or torrential downpours. Then Kristi noticed something small and brightly-colored on the road. It was a little rubber duck. Just lying in the middle of the road. Looking lonely and unloved. How could anyone abandon their rubber duck like that? I'll never understand. But I took pity on the poor thing and scooped it up and carried it with me for the rest of the run (yes, I held a rubber duck for 14 miles). And isn't it cute? I like its snazzy giraffe print. It shall henceforth be known as my Lucky Duck.
.JPG)
There were several people who started their run after us. We expected to get passed by a few of them eventually. But we didn't expect them to do it invisibly. People that had been behind us suddenly appeared ahead of us. And it happened twice. At first, we chalked it up to the other people taking a slightly different route, even though it didn't really make much sense. But when it happened a second time, Kristi and I began to wonder if maybe we were disrupting the space-time continuum somehow. Had we entered a long run parallel universe where everyone who was once behind us suddenly was in front of us? I hypothesized that perhaps we were running so fast, our relative time had slowed down, while everyone else was experiencing normal elapsed Earth-time. Those of you not familiar with the Theory of Relativity might want to brush up on this concept. I'm positive that's what happened to Kristi and me.
After about Mile 15, Kristi took off ahead of me because, well, she is a much faster runner than I am and frankly, I was holding her back. I assured her I didn't mind if she went ahead. It was truly awesome of her to stick with my for 15 miles, although I think she mainly did it because she knew I knew the route and she didn't want to get lost. Or maybe Kristi did want to hear more of my awesome anecdotes and I disappointed her by not telling any, so she took off. Yes, I'm sure that's it. *nods wisely*
The rest of the run passed uneventfully, although I did get honked at by fellow FASTie Melody, who happened to be driving by when I was at about mile 19.5. She actually stopped her car in the middle of a very busy road, and stuck her entire torso out of her car window to wave and yell at me. I was glad she stopped her car in order to do this. Otherwise it may have been like *honk honk wave wave crash*. Seeing her gave me just the pick-me-up I needed to sail through the last 2 miles. Thanks Mel!
So there's the run in all its glory. People who live and run in the area will immediately recognize that we pretty much ran from one side of Peoria to the other and back. That's not something people do every day. I feel pretty accomplished, despite the fact that it's not my first 22-miler. It was certainly my fastest 22-miler, though.
And it was all because of my Lucky Duck. Oh, and because they told me there would be coffee and bagels at the finish. Mmmm.... coffee...
Peace. Love. Train.
Friday, September 17, 2010
I was dead... but I got better!
And this is why I was dead:
Look at the green graph. That's the elevation plot. Check out that crazy sawtooth-looking stuff in the middle. That's the Hill of Death six times. SIX TIMES.
Let me tell you something, boys and girls... When you run the Hill of Death six times, it truly lives up to its name. Coach Brad's instructions for our workout were simple: Run as many repeats of the Hill of Death as you can possibly do, and when you think you can't do anymore, do one more. After my third round on the hill, I really didn't think I had anymore in me. I felt sluggish, tired, and heavy. Then Brad told me that Collin, who is new to FAST and happens to be an 8th grader, was planning to run five repeats. Well crap. I couldn't let myself get bested by an 8th grader! (I do realize that many 8th graders could easily outrun me... but let's stick to the topic at hand, shall we?) So I plugged on, despite the fact that my legs felt as if they were made of lead.
After my 5th hill, I met up with Collin and casually asked "So, how many'd you do?" You know, just to make sure he hadn't run a bunch more when I wasn't looking. Turns out he had done five too. Well, I would've been content to let it go then, but then Tim came sailing down the hill on his tenth repeat. TEN! Five repeats seemed pretty wimpy at that point. And many of my fellow FASTies were busting out six and seven hills. It made me feel oddly left out.
So I turned to Collin and said "Alright, let's do one more. We can do one more, right?" He agreed, and together, the 8th grader and I charged up the hill a sixth time. We huffed and puffed and probably both felt near death (or at least near puking), but he didn't fall behind, and neither did I. After we rounded the final turn, I wheezed "Almost there!" and he grunted in enthusiastic agreement. And before we knew it, we were at the top. Woo hoo!
Then, that little whippersnapper took off down the other side of the hill at breakneck speed and left me in the dust! Hmph. Kids these days!
But when I reached the bottom of the hill, we high-fived on a job well done, and he thanked me for helping him get through that last hill. I, in turn, thanked him for getting me through the last hill. Teamwork made us victorious, and we celebrated that victory together. Okay, so I celebrated, and Collin was like "yeah, cool. whatever."
And then I died.
But I got better!
I never would've imagined I could run six Hills of Death in a row... especially on a night when I just wasn't "feelin' it". But a little peer pressure goes a long way in FAST. There are a lot of things we do in FAST that I would probably never do if left to my own devices. And if I was left to my own devices, I would still be running 33:00 5k's and 6:23 marathons. So I conclude that a little death by hill repeats never killed anyone... at least not permanently.
Peace. Love. Train.
Look at the green graph. That's the elevation plot. Check out that crazy sawtooth-looking stuff in the middle. That's the Hill of Death six times. SIX TIMES.
Let me tell you something, boys and girls... When you run the Hill of Death six times, it truly lives up to its name. Coach Brad's instructions for our workout were simple: Run as many repeats of the Hill of Death as you can possibly do, and when you think you can't do anymore, do one more. After my third round on the hill, I really didn't think I had anymore in me. I felt sluggish, tired, and heavy. Then Brad told me that Collin, who is new to FAST and happens to be an 8th grader, was planning to run five repeats. Well crap. I couldn't let myself get bested by an 8th grader! (I do realize that many 8th graders could easily outrun me... but let's stick to the topic at hand, shall we?) So I plugged on, despite the fact that my legs felt as if they were made of lead.
After my 5th hill, I met up with Collin and casually asked "So, how many'd you do?" You know, just to make sure he hadn't run a bunch more when I wasn't looking. Turns out he had done five too. Well, I would've been content to let it go then, but then Tim came sailing down the hill on his tenth repeat. TEN! Five repeats seemed pretty wimpy at that point. And many of my fellow FASTies were busting out six and seven hills. It made me feel oddly left out.
So I turned to Collin and said "Alright, let's do one more. We can do one more, right?" He agreed, and together, the 8th grader and I charged up the hill a sixth time. We huffed and puffed and probably both felt near death (or at least near puking), but he didn't fall behind, and neither did I. After we rounded the final turn, I wheezed "Almost there!" and he grunted in enthusiastic agreement. And before we knew it, we were at the top. Woo hoo!
Then, that little whippersnapper took off down the other side of the hill at breakneck speed and left me in the dust! Hmph. Kids these days!
But when I reached the bottom of the hill, we high-fived on a job well done, and he thanked me for helping him get through that last hill. I, in turn, thanked him for getting me through the last hill. Teamwork made us victorious, and we celebrated that victory together. Okay, so I celebrated, and Collin was like "yeah, cool. whatever."
And then I died.
But I got better!
I never would've imagined I could run six Hills of Death in a row... especially on a night when I just wasn't "feelin' it". But a little peer pressure goes a long way in FAST. There are a lot of things we do in FAST that I would probably never do if left to my own devices. And if I was left to my own devices, I would still be running 33:00 5k's and 6:23 marathons. So I conclude that a little death by hill repeats never killed anyone... at least not permanently.
Peace. Love. Train.
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