Running oot and aboot in Canada, eh?

In celebration of spending the last four days in Canada, I'd like to invite everyone to join me in a rousing chorus of the Canadian national anthem. It's sung to the tune of "O Christmas Tree" and goes like this:

O Canada, O Canada
How lovely are thy maple leaves!
O Canada, O Canada
How lovely are thy maple leaves!
With moose, poutine and hockey too,
Beer for me, back bacon for you,
O Canada, O Canada
How lovely are thy maple leaves!
*jazz hands*

Now some of you (especially those of you who are actually Canadian) may argue that that is not the Canadian national anthem. To that I say "Well, not yet, it's not! Geesh!" I am petitioning the Canadian government to have the anthem changed because mine is (1) easier to remember and (2) far more descriptive than the current anthem, which does not once mention maple leaves, moose, poutine, hockey, beer or bacon. Plus, I'm pretty sure it would be the only national anthem in the world that incorporates a dance move.

Now that I've started this blog post in the proper way (with the singing of a national anthem), allow me to explain what the heck I was doing in Canada. I was visiting my BFF, Shelley. You all may recall that I ran the Flying Pig races with her earlier this year, and last year as well. And we also ran the Niagara Falls International Marathon Relay last fall. It seems every time we get together, it's to run some sort of organized distance event. And while this is fun, and a great way to get motivated to train for an event, it's also kind of stressful because the entire get-together revolves around race preparation. So we decided it was high time to get together, not to run a race, but to simply hang out and do whatever and not have to worry about the pressure of a looming event.

This did not stop us, however, from running. A lot. You see, we're both in the midst of marathon training. I arrived on Saturday afternoon and we immediately began carb-loading for our Sunday morning long run.

Beer is a carb, right?

Carb-loading, Canadian-style.

I mean, come on, you can't go to Canada and not have Canadian beer (Steam Whistle, in this case). I'm pretty sure it's a law there. Anyway, I digress...

Shelley had carefully planned a route for us to run that would take us all over the city of Hamilton. It looked great on the map. If only had known she was secretly plotting my demise, one painfully steep step at a time...

A lovely tour of Hamilton on foot, eh? Just you wait...

So Sunday morning arrived and I got up early to eat some breakfast. Shortly thereafter, we headed out the door into a veritable steam bath. I had checked the weather just before we left and the humidity was 100%. We may as well have been underwater. We struggled to catch our breath for the first several miles, thankful that the skies were cloudy. The route started out as any other run, mostly flat with a few gentle slopes. Then we made our way to the Chedoke Radial Trail, which was a gradual net downhill for a couple of miles. Then we turned left and headed through the city toward the bay (home of the famous Around The Bay Road Race), which was also a gradual downhill.

It was a scenic run, with beautiful views from the trail, and charming old homes along the city streets, and paved trails right along the bay. It was early enough in the morning that there were very few other people or cars out, so the city was peaceful. As we ran, the humidity began to slowly dissipate, and the clouds stayed overhead to provide us much-needed shelter from the sun. We chatted about this and that and were having a grand old time.

A few miles into the run, on the Chedoke Trail, still looking happy. This condition wouldn't last long...

But then we began making our way back through the city from the bay and I quickly came to the realization that Shelley had just been lulling me into a false sense of security with all those gentle downhills and scenic vistas.

Let us all remember the first rule of running a loop route: S/he who runs downhill must eventually run back uphill.

And that's when the fun really started. At first, it was just a gentle climb. No big deal. But then we rounded a corner near the Chedoke golf course, and it became immediately obvious that I was going to die. The road rose up sharply ahead of us, and I could feel my breath becoming short. I struggled to reach the visible top of this mountain. I wished I had a rope so I could just pull myself up.

Then the path leveled off. Whew!

But my relief was short-lived because then we reached the bottom of the Dundurn Stairs: a nearly-vertical ascent of 350 steps up the Niagara escarpment. It wasn't even possible to see the top of the stairs from the bottom; the stairs appeared to vanish into the clouds. It was 13 miles into our run, and I was already feeling pretty beat up from the humidity and the climbing we had already done.

If you listen very carefully, you can hear the sound of my legs crying.

After guzzling approximately 3.4 gallons of water from the fountain at the bottom of the stairs, we began our ascent. At first, it wasn't so bad. Every dozen or so steps, there was a small landing that gave us a few seconds to catch our breath.

But as we continued to climb higher and higher, getting closer to outer space, the air thinned and breathing became more difficult. I could have sworn we had climbed 15,000 feet. When we finally reached the top of the stairs, I died.

But I got better!

And a mile and a half later, we were back at Shelley's house, feeling exhausted but accomplished.

Total climb: 837 feet. Ouch. Ow ow ow. Ouch!

After taking much-needed showers, we refueled with Kraft Dinner and maple syrup, and enjoyed a nice game of hockey while listening to The Barenaked Ladies. I also worked on my mastery of the Canadian language. It's really not that hard and I would be glad to teach you all how to speak Canadian. Repeat after me, kids: I'm going to leave the hoose to go oot and aboot, eh? That translates roughly to "I am going out now, ok?"

Now, you would think that after such a crazy hilly run and so many leg-torturing stairs to climb, that we would choose flatter routes for the rest of our runs together. Well, you would be wrong. Shelley, that evil Canadian wench, made me run the stairs again on Monday and Tuesday too. The runs were much shorter (5 and 7 miles, versus Sunday's nearly-15 miles), but the stairs still hurt and I swear she cackled gleefully the whole time. It is for this reason that I believe Canadians aren't nearly as friendly as they would have us believe. They're all like "Come to our great country and eat some poutine and enjoy some socialized medicine!" and then once they get you there, they torture you with hills and stairs and death.

I'm planning to return to Canada in October for the Niagara Falls International Marathon, but now that my eyes have been opened to the true motives of the Canadian people, I will be much more cautious. I am going to keep working on my Canadian accent, so I can blend in better. And I will wear my bright red maple leaf shirt, because that surely doesn't say "I'm a tourist!". If they think I'm just another Canadian, maybe they won't torture me. Maybe...

Although I might be willing to endure a little torture (in the amount of 26.2 miles) in exchange for a shiny medal, eh?

Peace. Love. Train.

Illinois' Toughest 15k? Bring it!

Since I began this blog nearly a year and a half ago, I have written many times about the wonder and torture of the Hill of Death. I have run many a training run up and down its steep and unforgiving slopes, and even though it hurts like hell every time, I'm pretty sure it has made me a stronger runner. For this reason, deep down, I love the Hill of Death. However, I have never said to myself "Self, wouldn't it be fun to run a race that includes the Hill of Death... twice???"

Until now.

After five years in a row of running the Steamboat Classic 4 mile race ("The World's Fastest 4 Mile Race"), I decided it was time to take on a new challenge. And what better way to take on a new challenge than by running "Illinois' Toughest 15k" which takes runners up the Hill of Death not once, but twice?

This was a welcome change for several reasons. First, I really prefer longer distance races to shorter ones. Second, I have never raced the 15k distance before so it would be an instant PR. And third, and most importantly, finishers of the 15k event receive a shiny medal.

I'm a sucker for a shiny medal... even if it means running the Hill of Death twice.

I have run the race course several times before as a training run with my beloved Stashies and I felt pretty comfortable with it. As a training run, it actually isn't too difficult. Yes, the hills are tough, but for every uphill there is a downhill. I have found that I rather enjoy the variety of this course, with its fast flats and undulating hills, and bustling city segments and tranquil park segments. I knew my opinion would probably change when I attempted to race it though.

Based on my training runs, I thought a reasonable goal for this hot, humid and hilly race would be under 1:30. (Steamboat is always hot and humid; I'm pretty sure it's in the official race rules that the weather be as miserably summery as possible.) Yes, that's even slower than my half-marathon pace, but I had to take course and weather conditions into account in my goal-setting.

The elevation profile for the Steamboat 15k. Ouch.

And so when race morning finally arrived, I set my sights on 1:30. The weather was hot and humid, as expected, but thankfully, it was cloudy. I felt good. My coaches had me do a short taper in the week leading up to Steamboat, and although I suffered a bit of taper madness from running so few miles, my legs felt fresh for race day.

Runners lined up at the start and ready to run!

The gun went off (I didn't actually hear a gun, but everyone had started running, so I just assumed...) and away I went. The first two miles are flat, so I used this to my advantage to bank some time. I ran about a 9:00 pace for those two miles, which was faster than goal pace, but not so fast that I wouldn't have any energy left to tackle the hilly miles (miles 3 - 7). When I finally reached the Hill of Death (the first of several hills), I felt great. I climbed the hill at a relaxed pace, rather than trying to attack it, so that I would be able to take back a fast pace as soon as I reached the top. This was my strategy for all of the hills and it worked great.

As I made my way around the first loop of Glen Oak Park I was joined by fellow FASTie, Anna. We had a nice chat about marathons and beer and race hydration strategies. Anna told me about her idea for margaritas made with Gatorade instead of margarita mix. They would be called Gatoritas. This is beyond brilliant, and I hope the idea catches on with marathon race directors. At Mile 22 of a marathon, nothing would be more refreshing!

When I came around for my second loop through Glen Oak park, I picked up my pace a little bit, because I knew I was almost done with the hills. Before I knew it, I was running down the last downhill, out of Glen Oak Park, and into the home stretch. The last two miles of the race are pretty much flat, with a nice downhill segment in the last 1/4 mile. It was time to kick it up a notch.

I really had no idea what my pace had been during the race. As I typically do during races, I ran entirely by feel, and I rarely looked at my Garmin. Based on the race clock at the 10k mark, I knew I was on track for sub-1:30, but I really didn't know by how much. (My computational skills during races leave a lot to be desired.)

So imagine my surprise as I surged down the final downhill, around the corner, and toward the finish line, when I saw the race clock at exactly 1:25:00. Suddenly, a man came flying past me in his sprint to the finish line. Not wanting to be outdone, I kicked with all I had and passed him with 20 feet to spare, crossing the finish as the clock struck 1:25:08. Knowing it had taken me at least 30 seconds to cross the starting line of the race after the gun was fired, I knew my chip time should be well under 1:25. I was ecstatic!

After collecting my shiny medal and high-fiving my fellow FASTies and Stashies who had already finished, I proceeded to the post-race party where I enjoyed the optimal recovery fuels of bagels, orange slices, and beer with my friends. Many of us celebrated PR's, and several even won awards.

Me and fellow FASTie, Cathy, both celebrating PR's!

When chip times were finally posted (36 hours after the race - talk about slow!), I was very pleased to see my time was 1:24:34 (9:04 pace). I do believe I properly earned this shiny medal:

I love that it says right on the ribbon "Illinois' Toughest 15k" - damn right!

Coach Brad has always said that there's really only one race at Steamboat: the 15k. After having raced both the 4 mile and the 15k, I can now understand his logic. The 15k is far more fun (even with the Hill of Death), the pace is more comfortable, the course is more shaded and less crowded, and there's a shiny medal at the finish. It may be Steamboat's best kept secret. So many more runners opt to do the 4 mile because it promises to be "flat and fast". But I think if they gave the 15k a chance, they'd realize that flat and fast isn't always better.

I will be back again next year for the 15k. And now I have a time to beat. Look out!

Peace. Love. Train.

No words. Only pain. Lots and lots of pain.

I usually don’t have much trouble writing blog posts about various workouts and races, but today I find myself at a complete loss for words. Last night’s FAST workout was simply indescribable. But that isn’t going to stop me from trying to describe it anyway, because in my state of post-run exhaustion and pain, I need a little sympathy.

I should have known when I showed up at the park and Coach Brad said “We have a totally new workout for you all tonight” with an evil glint in his eye, that we were doomed.

Gone were the days of predictable and measurable workouts like 800m repeats and timed fartleks. The coaches had cooked up something completely crazy and we were all going to suffer.

"The workout is easy to understand, but not easy to do," he said.

Oh dear.

The coaches had marked off a loop that was a little over a mile long. Within said loop, they had marked off intervals of varying length and hilliness. The concept was simple, run the intervals hard and recover between the intervals. This workout wold be difficult enough under normal circumstances. But the loop in question was insanely hilly, with hardly a flat section to be found. And the hard intervals included both steep uphills and steep downhills. My quads were whimpering already and I hadn't even started running yet.

Coach Brad's instructions were to "run as many loops as you can, and when you think you can't run any more, run one more loop."

Well gee, doesn't that sound fun???

We started out with a short warm-up (1/2 mile) and then proceeded right into our loops. In the map below, I have marked the warm-up route and the interval loop. I have also indicated approximately where the hard intervals were by painting shaky red lines over the map. I apologize for my poor mouse-painting skills. As you can see, the intervals varied greatly in length. And the recoveries were all short. Too short!

As soon as I started up the first hill of the first loop, I knew I was in for a rough workout. I wasn't sure I'd be able to manage more than about three of these loops. They were that bad. I ended up slowing down a bit after my first loop just to keep from passing out and/or throwing up and/or dying. Oh, and did I mention it was 82°? That's not exactly hot, but it's a whole lot warmer than what we're used to running in, so it made the workout that much more difficult.

After my third loop, I was pretty sure that death was imminent.

I was also sure that I was not going to be doing more than five loops. I just didn't have it in me. I had just raced a half-marathon five days ago, the weather was warm, and I was tired. Five loops would make for about a 6.5-mile workout. That was plenty!

But then, as I was getting ready to start my fifth loop, fellow FASTie Yvonne said "You're only doing 5? But you're in the Black Group!" (The Black Group being the highest mileage of the FAST sub-groups.) Great. I had just gotten peer-pressured into running more. Thanks a lot, Yvonne!

So I managed to get through six crazy hilly loops without dying. Although my legs were so fried by the end that they were both numb and in pain at the same time. It was easily the single most difficult FAST workout I have ever had the "pleasure" of doing. And that's really saying something, because we have done some real doozies before.

All in all, last night's workout totaled 8 miles, and the average pace wasn't any faster than my usual easy pace. It's almost disappointing to run so hard and feel so exhausted for such a ho-hum pace. But just looking at the elevation plot (the green graph in the plot below) tells you that this workout was anything but ho-hum.

(Click to see full-screen)

You know, a workout like this really needs a name. Remember "The FAST"? Now that was a workout that deserved a name. But this workout is even worse (better?) than The FAST. It needs an appropriately evil and horrible name. Might I suggest "Satan's Pitchfork"? It's just a suggestion...

Peace. Love. Train.

Hamming it up at the Flying Pig!

Well, folks, it's that time of year again: the time when we put on poofy tutus, squeal like pigs, and get funky in Cincinnati. No, it's not crazy Cousin Eddie's wedding... it's Flying Pig time!

Just like last year, Cincinnati put on an amazing weekend full of fun, challenges, adventures and laughs. My best friend Shelley and I had the privilege of running three of the Flying Pig races: the 10k, 5k, and half-marathon. (Our friend Michele also joined us for the 5k) Here are some highlights from the weekend events:

The Flying Pig Expo

This year's expo was pretty much identical to last year's, in terms of size, offerings, and organization. It is hands down one of the best expos around. The volunteers (called "Grunts") are friendly, efficient and always smiling. The swag is second-to-none. And the Flying Pig-themed gear you can purchase is very high-quality. I may or may not have purchased several super-cute piggy-themed things.

Shelley is very excited about the swag - three t-shirts, art posters and an embroidered backpack!

Toyota 10k - Saturday, April 30, 8:00am

The first race event of the weekend was the 10k. The start area, just outside the Great American Ballpark (home of the Cincinnati Reds), was fun and energizing with a live DJ and lots of runners. Shelley and I had opted to wear our Team Shiny Medal shirts (which we wore for the Niagara Falls Marathon Relay last fall). We were pretty darn cute, if I do say so myself.

The shirts say "Ooo Shiny!" And yes, we have the same shoes.

It was a cool and sunny morning in downtown Cincinnati - perfect running weather. The 10k course starts at the ballpark, crosses over the Ohio River into Kentucky, meanders along the riverfront, crosses back over another bridge into Ohio and finishes back at the ballpark. It's not an easy course. The bridges (there are three total) are essentially long hills, and there are also several other hills along the route. As you will soon see, it was just a warm-up for what was to come on Sunday.

We had no intention of racing any of the weekend's events. I know what you all are thinking. Yes, it's true I have a long history of not being able to not race races. But I assure you, we actually stuck to the plan of not racing.

However, it had been over 3 years since the last time I ran a 10k. So I was able to set a new 10k PR in this non-race just from running at a moderate pace. It's not a particularly impressive time and I know both Shelley and I are capable of significantly faster. But coming away with an unexpected PR is still a nice little bonus. It is more proof that I am less slow than I used to be!

Flying Pig 5k - Saturday, April 30, 10:00am

The next event in our Weekend of Running was the 5k. We were joined by our good friend Michele. For the most part, we let Michele dictate the pace, since she is a run-walker. But occasionally, we gave her a little nudge to run a bit farther or faster. And also, to not cheat. (That's right, Michele... we're on to you!)

Me, Michele, and Shelley before the 5k

After completing our Saturday morning races, we spent the rest of the day shopping, eating, and enjoying the city. I also went to the Flying Piglet Diaper Dash event to shoot video of a friend's daughter who was participating. It was very cute, and all the babies got medals, which promptly become teething toys. All of this walking around the city and the mall was taking a toll on my legs without me realizing it, until...

Flying Pig Half-Marathon - Sunday, May 1, 6:30am

Shelley and I woke up dark and early at 4:30 Sunday morning to get ready for the big run of the weekend. I would like to point out that Cincinnati is on Eastern Time, so 4:30am in Cincy is 3:30am where I come from. Yes, it was painful to wake up that early. The good news is that I actually slept pretty well that night, so after a cup of coffee and a light breakfast, I was ready to roll. I donned my traditional Flying Pig gear...


...and as we made our way to the starting line at Paul Brown Stadium (home of the Cincinnati Bengals) amid thousands of other runners, history repeated itself.

The rain started.

It was very light at first. Not quite like the torrential downpours and nonstop lightning and thunder of last year. But it was definitely building. And as we walked, it rained a little more. And as we waited in line for one more port-a-potty stop, it rained a little harder. And as we made our way to the "Pig Pen" corrals with less than 10 minutes til the race start, it rained a little harder still.

The Flying Pig instituted a corral start system for the first time ever this year. It was much-needed, since this race is quite large and not all runners are effective at self-seeding. We were supposed to be in Corral D. We never did get there though. We made as far as Corral C when they opened up the barriers between corrals and the race started. Oops! We were not alone, though. Another girl, who was running her first full marathon, hadn't made it to her corral either. She asked us what kind of pace we were running. We said we didn't really have a planned pace - we were just going to run easy. She said that's what she was doing too... And so, for the first several miles, we were joined by the adorable and bubbly Allison, from Charlotte, NC. We ran and chatted for the first four miles, until she stopped to stretch. She is also a blogger, and here is her very cute blog.

After the Kentucky and downtown Cincinnati miles, things get very hairy in the Flying Pig half-marathon and marathon events. After Mile 5, the Big Climb begins. And it just never seems to end. Just when you think the course has leveled off, you turn a corner and there's more hill to climb. But the great thing about the Flying Pig is that even the hills are fun, because the spectators and course volunteers are so enthusiastic and energetic. Even in the pouring rain (and it did pour rain for most of the run), Cincinnatians crowd the streets by the thousands to cheer on the runners. You can't help but feel a burst of energy from all the excitement.

Elvis performs at this spot every year, near the bottom of the Big Hill

The reward at the top of the Big Hill: the view from Eden Park. It's a Kodak Moment! Look how drenched we are from the rain.

Now's a good time to mention the aid station entertainment. The Flying Pig has a contest every year where runners can vote on their favorite aid station. And the aid stations work very hard to earn the title of Favorite Fluid Station. Some of our favorite aid stations included the Avondale Running Club at Mile 6, who were rapping such classic and witty things as "The Gatorade is in the green cups. The Gatorade is in the green cups." Entertaining and informative! We also very much enjoyed the Walnut Hills High School Football Team at Mile 10, and not just because they were very cute. *wink wink* They were also unbelievably enthusiastic, giving out high fives and shouting encouragement to every runner who passed by.

The last few miles of the race were pretty tough for both of us. Cardiovascularly, I was fine; I wasn't breathing hard and my heart rate was low. But my legs were very tired and my feet were sore. All of the running and walking yesterday must have taken a toll. Shelley was also suffering a bit since she is getting over a recent bout of pneumonia. So we did take a few walk breaks on some of the steeper hills.

I felt a little wimpy about those walk breaks. But when I got home and uploaded my Garmin data, I was shocked to see that the total climb on the half-marathon course was over 1,000 feet. The full marathon course climbs about 1,500 feet total, so the half-marathon is actually a tougher course than the full marathon, on a climb-per-mile basis. Also, the Big Hill is from Mile 5 - 8.5 on both courses. This means it's late in the half course, but early in the full course. The full marathon lends itself well to negative splits for this reason. The half... not so much with the negative splits.

At about Mile 10, the half course takes a nosedive and it's 2 solid miles of fairly steep downhill. It's easy on the heart, but hard on the legs. Fortunately, the race is almost over by this point. Before we knew it, we were climbing the final small hill and we knew the finish line (er, I mean, finish swine) would be just on the other side. Shelley told me she didn't have any kick in her. I told her it didn't matter because we weren't racing. She sped up anyway. So I sped up. And then she sped up some more. So I sped up some more. No finishing kick, eh?

We collected our final medal of the weekend and made our way through the insanely long finish area, where they were serving up everything from bananas to donuts to Swiss cake rolls to chocolate milk. We made our way back to the hotel, got cleaned up and put on warm, dry clothes, and wore our three medals around for the rest of the day. We were very noisy with all the clinking and clanging of the medals. But it was the sound of accomplishment. And also the sound of insanity.

Why did we run three races? Because we have a sickness. And we love shiny medals. And something about personal accomplishment and stuff.

The three little piggy medals

We will, of course, be back again next year. The Flying Pig is now a tradition that cannot be broken. Which race(s) will I run next time? Your guess is as good as mine. But I do love me a good hilly marathon...

Peace. Love. Train.

Cold weather running is FUN!

At least, that's what I keep trying to tell myself as I push through the teeth-chattering miles of the winter months. I'm not sure if I believe it yet, though. These last few weeks, I've been doing a lot of indoor running for various reasons (such as safety, health, and general wussiness). Well, running indoors has spoiled me. This weekend, I took my running outside for a change, and, well, it hurt.

I started the weekend off with a race. How bad could it be?, I asked myself. It's just 4 miles. I'll be done before I even notice that it's cold! I carried these reassuring thoughts with me to the starting line. But as I stepped off the toasty shuttle bus and felt the bitter arctic blast on my face, those thoughts disappeared.

It was about 25º at the start of the FOLEPI River Trail Classic, with a wind chill of about 21º. This is pretty much my lower temperature limit for running outdoors. Any colder than this and I wimp out and take my run inside. I had on two layers of pants and two layers of tops, plus gloves and a hat. You would think this would be plenty. You would think wrong.

The course for this race is more-or-less straight-line point-to-point route along the East Peoria bike trail (which is fully paved). The race begins with a short section heading east before making a hairpin turn onto the bike path to head west for the rest of the race. As we rounded the hairpin turn, I could tell we were in for a real treat because the wind was coming out of the west... which meant the wind would be in our faces for the entire race. *begin sarcasm* Oh yay! *end sarcasm*

And so I ran as best I could with numb feet, foggy glasses and tears streaming down my face from the bitterly cold wind. I felt like I was running with concrete blocks attached to my legs; that's how numb my feet were. I wished I had electric socks. Well, actually, I wished I was at home snuggled under six blankets with a space heater aimed at myself. But since I knew I couldn't get home to my blankets and space heater if I didn't get to the damn finish line, I knew I would just have to suck it up.

I was told this was a downhill race, and that it was good for setting a PR because of the elevation drop. I was also warned that the downhill doesn't start until about a mile into the race. So my strategy was to run the first mile at a conservative pace (sort of a warm-up, really), then turn on all the engines when I hit the downhill. My previous best for a 4 mile race was 35:15, an 8:48 pace. I figured I should be able to run an 8:30 pace given the cooler conditions and downhill course.

As I passed the first mile marker and looked down at my Garmin, I saw that I had run my first mile in 8:30. Oops. So much for being conservative in the first mile. The course started to visibly drop at about Mile 1.5 and I felt like I was flying. Yes, my eyes were frozen open (better than frozen shut, I guess), my feet were still numb, and I had icicles hanging from my nose (aka, snotcicles), but I was flying.

The downhill section appeared to level off around Mile 3, but it was still a gentle decline. Which meant that I was still flying. But in order to fly at the same pace, I had to work a little harder. As I passed the Mile 3 marker, the discomfort of running fast has firmly set in and the race turned into a mental battle between the desire to back off to ease the discomfort, and the desire to keep pushing for a strong finish. Just one more mile to go. At the rate I was going, that was only 8 more minutes. Surely I could hold onto my pace for 8 more minutes.

In my final push, I cursed the three hills that were so close to the finish. They were small in actuality, but they felt like mountains to my fatigued legs. I rounded the final corner and I could actually see the finish line up ahead. I wiped the snotcicles from my nose, gathered every last bit of energy I could muster, and made a mad dash for the finish. I was vaguely aware of my in-laws standing on the sideline taking pictures but I did not have any extra energy to smile or wave or look remotely alive. I saw my husband at the finish line cheering me on. And in 32:34, I crossed the finish: a new PR, by over 2:30.


Incidentally, my husband also ran a PR, and finished about 50 seconds ahead of me. And our friend Niki also ran a PR. Coincidence? I think not....

As it turns out, there is a net elevation drop of over 250 feet. Check out the Garmin data, particularly the green elevation graph. Downhill, baby!


The post-race festivities were great and, thankfully, indoors. They were serving up yogurt, fruit, popcorn and pizza. All in all, a very nice race: well-organized, fast, and with nice amenities. Yes, it was freakin' cold. But I did eventually regain feeling in my feet, and my eyeballs did thaw out. So maybe this cold-weather running stuff wasn't so bad after all.

Feeling empowered by my success at the FOLEPI run on Saturday, I decided to take my Sunday long run outdoors as well. The Stashies were meeting in the usual place to run a 10 mile route, and that's exactly how far I was planning to run - perfect! The weather website told me it would be a bit warmer on Sunday morning than it was on Saturday, so I was thinking it would be a piece of cake.

Ha. Hahahaha.

As I started running down University Ave, I quickly realized it would not be a piece of cake. No, despite the fact that it was technically warmer than Saturday morning, it was a whole lot windier and consequently, felt a whole lot colder. My cheeks burned and my eyes watered and I was highly tempted to turn around, get into my car, and drive to the gym since nobody in their right mind would be running in this weather. And yet there I was, along with several Stashies, running against the icy wind. Clearly, none of us were in our right mind. It's the only explanation.

I did not dress warmly enough for this run. I didn't feel adequately warmed up until about Mile 6. And I think that even then, I only felt warmer because I was running with the wind finally. The snotcicle situation was far more dire than it was on Saturday. I lamented the fact that I had not brought any tissues along. I stopped at a Starbucks along the way for a potty break and learned that when you're wearing seven layers of clothes, going to the bathroom is a workout unto itself. The whole run, I felt slow, sluggish and tired. I had just raced the day before, so maybe I was still recovering from that.

I kept chugging along and before I knew it, I was high-fiving my fellow Stashies on a job well-done. I wasn't thrilled about the run, but hey, at least it was done. I rewarded myself with a peppermint mocha from Starbucks and headed home.

Upon reviewing my Garmin data, I noticed something interesting. I was not nearly as slow and sluggish as I thought I was. In fact, I ran at a faster pace than I would normally run my long runs. So my long run actually went a lot better than I thought it did.


It doesn't look like the weather will be warming up much for the foreseeable future. This means that I better get used to running in the cold, whether I like it or not. And I will also have to accept that these snotcicles are here to stay. I'll just think of them as a hot new running accessory.

Peace. Love. Train.

Move over Hill of Death... there's a new kid in town!

It's been weeks since I've written about a training run. Since Summer/Fall FAST has come to an end, there haven't been any crazy, tough or puke-inducing workouts to speak of. I have spent the last 6 weeks either tapering for or recovering from the Chicago marathon. But now, it's time to step it up again. And what better way to step it up than to run up a crazy-ass hill?

Crazier than the Hill of Death?

Oh yes. The Hill of Death is but a wee little knob compared to this new beast.

Some of my fellow FASTies/Stashies and I decided to meet for an after-work run yesterday. As we were contemplating what sort of run to do, Claire mentioned that she knew of a good hill in the High Point subdivision.

Thanks a lot, Claire.

The four of us (plus Claire's dog) did an easy warm-up run through High Point and then we got to the top of the purported "good hill". In order to run up the hill, we would first have to run down it. No problem - it would be a sort of extended warm-up. We couldn't see all the way down it, as it was a winding road, but how bad could it be?

Famous last words.

As we kept running down and down and down and DOWN, my concern grew. Would we ever reach the bottom of this valley? And how would we ever get back up? Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we reached the bottom. It was a beautiful curvy road with fall trees and big houses - a very scenic place to run. But as I looked up the hillside we had just run down and realized that I couldn't see the top of the hill, I got a little worried.

Slowly, we began our ascent. At first it wasn't too bad. That was mostly because I was running at a snail's pace. But as I climbed and climbed, it got harder and harder. I led the pack and I could hear Louisa behind me yelling "Are we there yet? Is this the top???" My initial thought was that Louisa should probably be running harder if she was able to yell like that. I certainly couldn't yell. But then I realized that I, too, wanted to know the answer to her questions. Where was the top??? Why weren't we there yet???

After huffing and puffing and running up this hill for approximately 1.6 million years, we finally crested it.

And then we all died.

But we got better!

I was itching to get home and check out the Garmin data. How high was that hill? As it turned out, it was almost 250 vertical feet of climb over 0.55 miles. In comparison, the Hill of Death has "only" 110 vertical feet of climb over 0.25 miles. A hill that's more than twice as big (in both height and length) as the Hill of Death? Oh, a hill like this needs a very special name.

I'd like to introduce the Mountain of Mayhem. *insert scary horror movie music*

Here is the Mountain of Mayhem in all it's steep and winding road glory. Look at the green graph. That big V-shape is where we ran to the bottom of the hill and then back up. The red graph shows how my heart rate skyrocketed while climbing said hill. And then it dropped off because I died. But as you can see, I got better.


So there you have it, folks. The mean older brother of the Hill of Death has made his debut. And I'm sure we haven't seen the last of the Mountain of Mayhem. I know Louisa wants to go back. I think she's crazy, but then, aren't we all a little crazy?

Oh, and don't tell my coaches about this new hill, okay? We don't need to go giving them any ideas for some new "Extreme Hill Repeats On Crack" workout or anything like that. Believe me, FAST workouts are extreme enough already!

So shhhhhhhh! This Mountain of Mayhem will just be our little secret. What the coaches don't know can't hurt them. But if the coaches do know, it will only hurt us, the innocent FASTies. And you don't want that now, do you? Of course not!

*looks shifty* So, mum's the word. *sneaks quietly out of blog entry*

Peace. Love. Train.

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.

Introducing the HILL OF DEATH

Do you remember me saying that FAST is made up of Speedwork Tuesdays and Hillwork Thursdays? Well, as all of my alert readers know, yesterday was Thursday.

I would like to introduce you to Glen Oak Hill, aka, The HILL OF DEATH (you have to say that with a deep, echo-y voice for the proper effect). This bad boy is about 100 feet of vertical ascent over 1/4 mile. Take a good hard look at the graph below (click it to see it larger) - the green graph is elevation. I'm sure it's not difficult to figure out where the *echo-y voice on* HILL OF DEATH *echo-y voice off* is. Although it's worth noting that even the 2 mile warm-up has a fair bit of ascent, but it's much more gradual. And it's a warm-up, so it's not like we run it all-out. When it comes to running the *echo-y voice on* HILL OF DEATH *echo-y voice off*, we are basically supposed to be running as hard and as fast as we can (well, not so hard that we can't make it to the top).


I was lucky. I only had to run the HILL OF DEATH once. The reasons for that were twofold: (1) I'm in a recovery week and (2) I'm running a half-marathon tomorrow, so in order to have fresh legs for the race, Coach Brad didn't want me running myself to exhaustion. But many of my teammates had to run the HILL OF DEATH twice or even thrice. HAHA - sucks to be them! (Sorry, Becky! ;-) )

I must say, running the HILL OF DEATH last night was a bit discouraging for me. I've lost a lot of my uphill power from Summer FAST last year. I know that this winter was about base-building and increasing endurance, and I am very pleased with how far I've come in that regard. But my power has definitely diminished in the mean time. It's also possible that yesterday's unseasonably warm temperatures came into play as well. It was 83º outside! I know I'm not acclimated to running in that sort of weather yet - I was sweating... er... like a pig! As a side note - does anyone know where the saying "Sweating like a pig" comes from? Because pigs don't actually sweat. But I digress....

The HILL OF DEATH is probably one of the most puke-worthy hills in the Greater Peoria area. It's right up there with Bishop Ave Hill. I have a love-hate relationship with these hills. Running up them hurts like crazy (I believe I gasped to Coach Bekah as I was nearing the crest of the hill, "THIS SUCKS!!!"). But they are so good for developing speed and power. And so I shall embrace the *echo-y voice on* HILL OF DEATH *echo-y voice off* with open arms and speedy feet.

Peace. Love. Train.

Ignoring the voices inside my head...

...can be exceptionally difficult to do when they are screaming at me to stop. I became intimately acquainted with the mental aspect of marathon training today. There's always a bit of a mental aspect to any long run - like trying to tell yourself that running outside in the freezing rain is good for you. But today's 20-miler went far beyond that.

I started the morning like I would for any other long run... Got up early and had my standard pre-long-run brekkie (oatmeal, banana and hot tea). I even used my lucky Harry Potter mug. Don't scoff. It's a very cool mug (given to me by my even cooler friend, Robin). Look what it does when you pour hot water into it:


I checked the weather forecast - it looked perfect: sunny and above freezing. I was ready to manage some mischief for 20 miles. Or so I thought.

I had planned out an extremely hilly route (over 1000 feet of climb). Not because I enjoy pain, but because of specificity of training. My marathon will be hilly. The best way to train for that is to run hilly runs. Pretty much all of my long runs have incorporated lots of hills, so it wasn't a new thing for me. I honestly wasn't too concerned about the hills. I have developed a complex technical strategy for running hills that works well for me - I slow down when going up, and speed up when going down. Okay, I didn't say it was genius. But the basic premise is conservation of energy - keep it easy on the ups, use gravity to my advantage on the downs, and be left with more energy later on.

And so this is what I did. Usually, my routes tend to flatten out a bit after about 8-10 miles. This route did not. The flattest part was the last 3 miles. By then, I was already beyond exhausted. I started to doubt myself at Mile 13, because I had basically just run 13 solid miles of rolling hills with a very stiff wind to contend with (and we all know how I feel about wind). At Mile 15, I reminded myself that I only had 5 miles to go, but it still seemed impossible. I kept waiting to get my second wind. It never came. Every uphill, no matter how small, was a battle. The wind always seemed to be against me. My legs did not want to go anymore. Thoughts of self-doubt and failure flooded my mind. I wondered how I would ever run this marathon when I wasn't even sure I could get through this 20-miler. I wondered why this run seemed exponentially harder than my 18-miler last weekend. I wondered what I had done wrong. I wondered if I would even be able to finish, or if I would have to call someone to come and get me. The negative thoughts gnawed away at my confidence, which just made me feel more exhausted.

This is the mental aspect of the marathon. There was absolutely nothing wrong with my legs or my feet. They were tired, but otherwise okay. I knew I had the ability to do this, but I would have to will myself to do it. My brain wanted to tell my body to quit, but I had to tell my brain to shut up and let me run. As the cliche goes, I dug deep. With 3.5 miles to go, I played mental games with myself, telling myself to "just get to that Stop sign up there..." and "Okay, now get to that white mailbox". With 2 miles to go, I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel. With 1 mile to go, I was finally out of the wind which instantly boosted my spirits. With 1/2 mile to go, I could physically see the end (the Tower in Peoria Heights). I did not have anything left in me for a final push. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. But I finished. I won the mental battle.

I'm still not sure of my ability to run this marathon. Not after today's run. I am fairly certain there's no way I could've done another 6.2 miles today. However, I have one more chance to run 20-22 miles in two weeks. Next weekend is a much-needed recovery week, and I will "only" be running 14. I need this recovery. I think part of the reason today's run was so hard for me was because I have been steadily increasing my mileage for the last 3 weeks and, well, it's hard on the body. So bring on the recovery week, I say!

And it's worth noting that today's run wasn't all bad. Indeed, my lucky Harry Potter mug brought me much luck. First of all, I didn't trip and fall like a goon. Secondly, I saw people I knew along the way (including my husband, who was getting ready for his own run, and a coworker, who honked at me and rolled her window down and waved excitedly at me). Third, I didn't have to deal with any unusual pains or injuries - my sesamoids kept quiet. Fourth, aside from the wicked wind, it really was a nice day. And finally, I finished!

For all my geeky followers, here's my run map and data. Will I run this hilly route again? Probably. But first, I will have TWO cups of tea from my lucky Harry Potter mug.


Peace. Love. Train.

A pleasant surprise

To be honest, I wasn't expecting my 16-miler to go well this weekend. I was expecting it to be a struggle. See, I'm still getting over this cold, so I was a bit stuffy. And I was sure that my sesamoiditis was going to rear its ugly head with all the hills I had planned in this run. I was afraid that my feet would get really tired and sore like they did on my last 16 miler. And I was expecting it to be rainy, thus making it impossible to see where I'm going... So many negative expectations.

But 16 miles later, I was very pleasantly surprised. It actually went very well. I must say, the first 8 or so miles were rough. It was extremely hilly. And it was foggy and misty, making it very hard to see through my glasses (ironically, I was running on Grandview Dr, which did NOT have a grand view, thanks to the fog). I was very conscious of my effort, and worked hard to keep my heart rate down during the hills. Conserve energy up front, have energy to spare later. I figured I could pick up the pace in the later miles, when it wouldn't be so hilly. I also made sure to stay hydrated and fueled from early on in the run. I started eating Sharkies around Mile 3, and continued eating them in twos every mile or two, along with lots of water.

Have I ever mentioned Bishop Ave hill before? If I haven't, it's because I try not to think about it. *shudders* It's tall and steep and scary. It was at about Mile 3.5 of this run. When I trained for the Disney World Marathon, my coach used to make me run it at least once (sometimes twice) during every long run I did. Thus began my love-hate relationship with the hill. Running up Bishop Ave hill is a very painful experience indeed. It's probably at least 100 feet tall. And only about 1/4 mile long. Why do I insist on putting it in my routes if it's so scary? Because it's good for me. I intend to be be well-prepared to tackle the hills of the Flying Pig Marathon on race day. Bishop Ave hill will help me get there. Of course, that doesn't mean it doesn't suck. I never get to the top of Bishop hill and think "Wow, that was a blast, I'm going to run back down and do it again!" Usually my thoughts are more along the line of "#@*%& #*&%!!! I'm never doing that again!"

Around Mile 8, the terrain started to flatten. It was a huge relief. There were still some slopes here and there, but nothing like the steep canyons of the first 8 miles. I was tired, though, from those first 8 miles. I was still chewing on Sharkies and drinking my water. I didn't feel terrible, nothing was hurting, and overall, I was pleased with my progress. Then something happened around Mile 12. I got my second wind. Maybe the Sharkies were kicking in. Maybe it took me that long to recover from all the hills. I don't know, but I suddenly felt much more energetic. So I wanted to see how much more energetic.... I kicked into high gear to see what I could do my last 4 miles. Apparently, I could do quite well (for a slow gal, that is). My pace went from about 13:30 down to 12:30, then 12:00, then 11:40, and finally 10:44 for the last mile.

All in all, my average pace for this 16 miler was about 10 seconds per mile faster than my last 16 miler, and this one was much hillier. I also felt less tired when it was all said and done. I don't know if it was a result of last week being a recovery week, or using Sharkies instead of Sport Beans (Sharkies have complex carbs rather than just simple sugars), or what.... but this was a good run. My sesamoids did not complain at all. I will say the area is a little achy today, but nothing like last weekend. I will keep icing it to keep the inflammation to a minimum.

So without any further ado, here's the run data:

Or, if you want to see it in the Runner's World Personal Trainer, click here. The data says my total climb was over 1600 feet. I doubt that very much. I suspect it was more like 800-1000 feet. Which is still nothing to sneeze at. And speaking of sneezing, I'm feeling much less sneezy. Nothing like a good 16 mile run to clear up the sinuses!

Peace. Love. Train.

Sweet Sixteen

Oh how sweet it is to have a good run! After last Saturday's mishaps, today was practically a walk in the park. Some might argue it was practically a walk in the park because I was practically walking. To them, I say "phhhhbbbbbbbttttttt!"

I learned from last weekend's mistakes. Firstly, I slowed down. Instead of going out at an 11:30 pace and then trying (unsuccessfully) to hang on to a 12:00 pace later in the run, I started out at about a 12:45 pace. Ahhhh, comfort. Sure it's slow, but the goal of the long run isn't to break land speed records. A long run is supposed to be about 1-2 minutes per mile slower than your goal race pace. So, if I want to run an 11:45 pace in my marathon (which may be ambitious for a hilly marathon, but we will see), I should do my long training runs at 12:45 - 13:45. It seems so slow compared to other runs I do, but as I so successfully demonstrated last weekend, going faster does not a fun run make. Especially when there are a lot of hills. We'll get to the hills in a bit.

Secondly, I carried fluids with me, so I wasn't dependent on two or three water stops to get me through the whole 16 miles. Having Gatorade ready for me whenever I needed it was wonderful. And I consumed my entire bottle of Gatorade (as opposed to last weekend when I had drunk barely 1/3 of my bottle). Combined with my Sport Beans, and a mini Reese's Peanut Butter Cup - I was well-hydrated and well-fueled the entire run.

Thirdly, I didn't try to "power through" the hills. Especially the early ones. I just tried to keep an even effort by keeping my heart rate in check. My body thanked me later when I had a BIG hill to climb from Miles 12 to 15.

What was the net result of all this? Well, I felt better the entire run. My heart rate stayed low for most of the run. And I was able to finish strong - my fastest mile of the run was Mile 16. Indeed, the entire last 8 miles were faster than the first 8 miles. Not by much, but considering that the last 8 miles were far more uphill, I think this is quite impressive. It can be hard to finish strong on a flat course, but to finish strong uphill means you did something right early on.

So, without any further ado, here's the run graph and map. The spikes in the pace graph (blue) are where we had to wait for a crosswalk signal. The elevation graph (green) is more or less accurate. As you can see, we basically ran into a canyon and then ran back out. Well, it sure felt like a canyon.



I had the privilege of running with a friend today. It's not often I can find someone willing to run my slow pace, but today was my lucky day. One of my FAST buddies, Jess, ran the entire 16 miles with me and it was so nice to have someone else there to chat with and to share in the suffering.. er, I mean... the fun. That's right, the fun!

Actually, it was kind of like a Team Scream reunion today. You see, back in October '09, we had a four-person marathon relay team for the Screaming Pumpkin Marathon. Our team - we called ourselves Team Scream - actually won the relay (it was a prediction marathon, not a timed marathon). Today, the four of us ran the same 16 miles. And then the four of us had lunch afterward. It was good times.

So let's talk about lunch, shall we? We purposely planned our route to finish right in front of one of our favorite cafes - Cyd's Gourmet Kitchen. The food there is fresh, tasty and, for the most part, healthy (unless you include the bakery!). It's perfect for post-run. There's nothing there that isn't good. And the bakery has a huge selection of sweet treats, which are also perfect for post-run. I had a Caprese Baguette - fresh mozzarella cheese and fresh tomatoes with basil pesto and balsamic vinaigrette on a toasted bun. So delicious! And then I followed that up with a Chocolate Chubby cookie. It was the perfect end to a good long run.

I must say, I'm glad that the upcoming week is a recovery week. The reduction in mileage will be nice, and my long run will "only" be 12. It's kind of funny to think of 12 miles as a recovery run, but after 16 today, it really will be.

Right now, I'm ready for a little catnap. Tonight, the hubby and I are going out for a nice dinner to celebrate our 6th anniversary (which is actually tomorrow, but our favorite restaurant isn't open tomorrow). Oh, and by the way, my hubby, who isn't even training for a marathon, was one of the Team Scream members who ran 16 miles today. What's he training for, you ask? A 10k. Or so he says... I think he's training for some secret marathon that he's not telling anyone about. Only time will tell...

Peace. Love. Train.

Adventures in hills, snow, and potholes

I'm going to try to put together a coherent blog entry today, but be forewarned - I'm still a bit delirious from today's fourteen miler. It shouldn't have been a big deal. Only two miles longer than last weekend, and last weekend was fine. But I made several mistakes today that ended up hurting me later on in my run. So what have I learned from today?

1. Don't go out too fast. To be fair, I wasn't really sure what "too fast" was, since this was my first really long run outside, on a hilly course. Up until now, I'd been running indoors on a flat track, or moderately inclined treadmill. I seriously underestimated the increased difficulty of the hilly route we had chosen for today. Whoops. I should have known better - I ran this route many times training for my first marathon. But it has been over 3 years, and apparently time has made me forgetful.

2. Don't try to make up for lost time. Somewhere around Mile 1, I was fiddling with my iPhone (I use it to run the Nike+ and play music), and apparently dropped my glove. But I didn't realize it until I went to put my gloves back on. So I had to turn around, run back about 1/4 mile (uphill!), find my glove, and then run back. I should have just done this at the same easy pace, but for reasons I can't explain, I felt the need to "catch up". Catch up to who? Nobody. Even though my husband and our FAST friends were running too, they were all far ahead of me since they run faster. So I knew I couldn't actually "catch up" with any of them. Nevertheless, I picked up the pace once I got my glove. I should have just kept the pace slow.

3. Don't try to "power through" the tough hills. Not sure what I was thinking here. I should have slowed down on the hills, to keep my heart rate down. Instead I tried to hold pace. I don't think I was very successful anyway, but I still should have been slower. The long run is not the time to battle against the hills. They always win.

4. Don't panic when things don't go quite according to plan. I made a wrong turn around Mile 8. I was supposed to turn on High Point Dr and instead I turned on Fox Point Dr. I realized my mistake shortly after I made the turn, but it was already too late to go back and run the road I had intended to run. So I did some quick mental math and determined how far I needed to run on this new "uncharted" road. It should've been fine. But for reasons I cannot explain, I sped up during this segment. I guess I thought I needed to "catch up" again. But as we have already discussed, there was nobody for me to catch up to. I think there should be a medical term for this... Running-Induced Irrationality (RII).

5. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!!! Okay, I already knew this. But when it's cold outside, you just don't realize how much fluid you're really losing. I stopped for water/gatorade three times during this run. It wasn't enough. If this had been a half-marathon, there would've been at least 6 water/gatorade stops and I would have stopped at almost every one. Today I made my first water stop at Mile 6. Not good. Next time we are going to have to be more strategic about our placement of water bottles along the route.

So what did all my mistakes mean? Well, the last few miles were extremely challenging. My heart rate refused to go down to an acceptable level (I like to keep it below 160, and on this run I was routinely in the low 170's). I struggled through every step, willing my legs to move. It shouldn't have been that difficult. The good news is that after a good lunch and lots of water, I'm feeling pretty good. Nothing hurts in a bad way, I'm just a bit stiff and tired.

Let's hope I remember all these lessons on the next long run (next weekend is 16 miles). I want to finish feeling good rather than feeling completely drained.

Oh, and one of the advantages of running outdoors is that I get to use my GPS. So below is the data from my Garmin watch, including a map of my run. Note the elevation graph in green. Total climb, according to the Garmin, was 900 feet. This may actually be hillier than the Flying Pig will be. So I guess if I can run this route, I can run The Pig. I will be ready for those hills!


The GPS map doesn't show (1) hills, (2) snow or (3) potholes, but rest assured, there were plenty of all three of these things along the entire route. And all three of them make for a challenging run. I also think they increase the risk of RII (Running-Induced Irrationality).

I'd like to take a moment to give huge high fives to my training buddies today: my husband, Matt, and our friends from FAST, Niki and Marc. They all did a great job today. For Matt and Niki, it was their longest run EVER. WAY TO GO GUYS! :)

Peace. Love. Train.

Let's get this party started!

Well, since I blogged about training for my first marathon (back in 2006), I thought it only appropriate to blog about training for my second marathon too. It's been so long since my first marathon, that this second marathon is practically a first. If that makes any sense. (I suspect it doesn't)

A bit of background for those who don't already know: I'm planning to run the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati on May 2. Why the Flying Pig? Well, I love Cincinnati (I used to live there in my college co-op days). And they have a cool medal (double-sided, with a pig-butt on the back!). And the crowd support is supposed to be phenomenal. And it's hilly.

Wait. What?

Hilly?

Why would anyone want to run a hilly marathon? Well, I want to develop a new appreciation for hills. I don't want to be afraid of them. I want to embrace them. Okay, maybe "embrace" is a strong word. How about "tolerate"? And, well, I love a good challenge. I don't expect to set any land-speed records with this marathon (or any marathon, for that matter), but I do hope to beat my previous marathon time (6:29 - this, hopefully, should not be too difficult to beat), and have a lot of fun.

Below is the elevation profile for the Flying Pig Marathon. It looks like one big hill, but there are supposedly lots of rolling hills throughout the entire 26.2 miles. BRING IT!



Several of my friends and my husband will be there too, running the various Flying Pig events, ranging from 5k to half-marathon. Apparently, I'm the only one crazy enough to attempt the full marathon.

So, there are currently 11 1/2 weeks left until the Flying Pig Marathon. I'm well into my training, but I thought now was a good time to start documenting the trials, tribulations, achievements, and amusements of my journey. Stay tuned for the next entry, coming soon, highlighting my training schedule.