Setbacks and Comebacks

Greetings, my sweaty friends!  It has been far too long since I last blogged about my running adventures, and I'm sure all (six) of you have been utterly distraught from the lack of new SLAP content.  I apologize profusely.  You see, life has gotten in the way.  Not just in the way of blogging, but in the way of running too.

Over the last 4 months, my life has taken a complete 180° turn, and I find myself newly single, and the proud owner of a new (old) house.  It was all for the best, and I couldn't be happier with the new direction of my life, but it sure was hard to be a consistent runner through all of the stressful events of the last few months.  In fact, I failed miserably at running consistently.  The week I moved to my new (old) house, I logged a grand total of 7 miles.  And in the weeks leading up to and the first couple of weeks after the move, my mileage was not a whole lot better than that.  Packing, organizing, unpacking, more organizing... followed closely by sitting, sleeping, and being generally exhausted - all of these things took priority over running.

Shortly after I moved, I ran a couple of half-marathons as training runs:  the uber-hilly Heights Half Marathon, and the not-quite-as-hilly-but-still-hilly Lincoln Presidential Half Marathon.  I did better than I expected in the Heights Half (2:13), and much, much worse than expected in the Lincoln Half (2:16).  In both cases, I was so far off of my PR (1:54), I wondered if I would ever get my running fitness back to where it was last fall.  It was discouraging, to say the least.

I am not easily deterred, though.  After my less-than-stellar performance at the Lincoln Half, I vowed to run consistently, targeting a weekly mileage of 30 to 35.  I wouldn't worry about my pace, or about doing speedwork.  I would simply get the miles in, however slow they may be.

Fast-forward to the Illinois Half Marathon at the end of April.  When I signed up for this event many months ago, I had intended this to be an A-race, where I would attempt a new PR.  But given the circumstances of life, that goal went out the window quite some time ago.  My new goal was just to enjoy the run, and not worry about my time.

I met up with my friends Becky and Katie for dinner the night before the race, and enjoyed some delicious pasta and wine.  No SLAP race report is complete without food pictures, so here ya go:

Butternut Squash Ravioli in a Sage-Butter Reduction, aka: Very Tasty Noms

We waddled back to the hotel, stuffed with plenty of carbs for the next day's adventure.  After a night of mediocre sleep, I got up early and prepped for what I thought would be a regular ol' training run with 10,000 of my closest friends.  The weather looked ominous, and a quick look at the forecast confirmed that big rain was coming.  There were also 20 mph winds.  I definitely was not going to race this race.  I would be lucky to finish in 2:10!

I was a bit concerned that my race bib had me in starting Corral B.  That seemed awfully... elite.  I planned to place myself at the back of the corral, so that I wouldn't slow down all the faster runners.

Corral B?  That's, like, where they put the Kenyans!

My friends and I sat in the hotel lobby, waiting for the rain to pass before we made the short walk to the race start.  Just to play it safe, I decided to put on a cheap throwaway rain poncho.

It was a child's poncho.  I couldn't get the darn thing over my head.

All of my friends were in different start Corrals, so I made my way to the back of Corral B all by myself.  That was a good thing, though, as I really didn't know how slow I was going to run, and I didn't want to be pressured by, or put pressure on, someone else to run together.  Soon enough, we were off and running.

I started out way too fast.  Or at least I thought it was way too fast.  I was so concerned about slowing down faster people who might be behind me, I took off at a 9:00 pace, thinking I'd slow down after the first mile or two.  But after the first mile, I felt pretty darn good.  And after the second mile, I felt even better.  And after the 3rd mile, I seemed to be picking up my pace, and still feeling good.

I decided to run with it.  Literally.

I figured if I could just hang on to my pace and feel comfortable, then maybe I could come in just under 2 hours. I ditched the rain poncho at around Mile 3, once I had warmed up.  Not a single drop of rain fell the whole race.  Not only that, but the 20 mph wind was barely even an issue, so sheltered was the race course with trees and buildings.  I gradually stepped up my pace until I was running in the 8:30's and 8:40's - still feeling very comfortable, mind you.  I even mastered the art of drinking from a cup while running - something I had never been able to do before.  The first couple of cups ended up going either up my nose, or down my shirt, but I did eventually get the hang of it.

Only in the last mile did the running become challenging, but that's mostly because I ran the last mile in 8:05.  I crossed the finish line knowing I had broken 2 hours, but only when I stopped my Garmin did I realize by how much I had broken 2 hours.

*hitting Easy Button*  "That was easy!"

1:55:11

Shut.up.

No, that's not a PR.  But it's awfully darn close.  Only 17 seconds away, to be exact.  If I had had any idea how well I was going to run that day, I would've stepped it up a little more and gone for the PR.  But don't mistake this "coulda, woulda, shoulda" for disappointment.  I am hardly disappointed.  I am ecstatic!  After a few months of sporadic and inconsistent training, and less-than-stellar racing, I was really starting to feel discouraged.  To be able to run a near-PR half marathon without even planning to was exactly the confidence boost I needed.

But I wasn't the only one who ran well this day.  I actually lost count of the number of fellow FASTies who either set new PR's, or ran unexpectedly strong "training runs".  Becky, Katie, Brian, Yvonne, Louisa, Kristi... just to name a few.  Incredible job, runner friends!

Mis Amigas

So what does this mean for the rest of my racing calendar for 2012?  Well, I don't really know.  All I know is I'm coming back from a difficult time, and I intend to come back stronger than ever.  At the same time, I intend to enjoy running, enjoy my new house and achieve balance in my life, so I'm not going to worry too much about races and PR's and meeting aggressive goals.

*looks shifty*

At least not yet.


Peace. Love. Train.

The Frozen Turkey 5k: Freezing my tail-feathers off!

I should've known that any race with the word "frozen" in the name would not agree with this heat-seeking runner chick.  But, when my coworker and running buddy, Mike, told me he was going to run the Tremont Frozen Turkey 5k with the goal of placing in his age group, I thought "Well, I could run that. How bad could it be?". And when fellow FASTie, Stephanie, posted a picture of the race shirt on Facebook and asked me if I was going to run it too, I said, "Why not... how bad could it be?"

As it turns out, really, really bad.

The morning of the race, it was approximately 147° below zero, with 321 mph winds. When I left my house, it was actually snowing sideways.  I struggled to keep my car on the road as I made the drive to Tremont.  When I finally arrived, I realized that I had no idea where to go.  The race website gave no indication of where the race actually started.  Fortunately, Mike had found out it was supposed to start near the library.

So, I showed up at the library.  I went into the library to ask where race-day registration was.  The librarians looked at me like I had three heads.  They made a phone call to the fitness center, which was the site of  packet pickup the day before, but nobody answered.  Since I had time to spare, I decided to drive over to the fitness center myself.  When I got there, there were lots of other runners looking lost and confused, as the guy at the fitness center explained that race day registration was actually at the "old park district building".  Never having been to Tremont before, this was not helpful information.  He explained that it was across the street from the library.  That's where I had just come from!  So I drove back to the library, finally managed to find the registration, and got signed up for the race.  I even got one of the really cool long-sleeved tech shirts, even though they weren't guaranteed to race-day registrants.

That turkey doesn't look nearly frozen enough. Also, he looks like he's having fun, which is very misleading.

And then I realized I left my Garmin at home.  I didn't have time to go and get it (it was a 40-minute drive each way, and the race was going to start in 30 minutes).  So I had a mild panic attack.  Okay, I had a major panic attack. It's not that I need my Garmin while I run, so much as I need the data to analyze after the run.  How would I know what my splits were?  How would I know the total elevation change of the course?!  How would I know how accurately-measured the course was?!?! I felt so naked and lost without my beloved data-collection device.

You'd probably think, after all of this, that things couldn't possibly get any worse.

You'd be wrong.

I met up with Mike and his wife shortly after I registered, and of all the bad luck, he forgot his Garmin too!  Well, that ruined my plan to run with him and snag his Garmin data afterward.  The race was supposed to start in 15 minutes, so Mike and I decided to go for a warm-up jog down the street. We were encouraged by the fact that the sun had come out.  Maybe it wouldn't be so cold after all...

It's not a good sign when you finish your warm-up jog feeling colder than when you started it.

Bonus points if you can find me in this picture
(Photo - Tremont Park District)

We lined up for the race start, and before we knew it, we were off.  The first half of the race was running directly into the wind. My face was frozen, my eyes were watering, and snot-sicles were forming on my nose.   I'm sure it was a beautiful sight. Mike stuck with me for about the first mile, and then I noticed him drifting further and further behind me.  I was absolutely miserable, trying to fight the wind, but I could see the turnaround point ahead, and I was highly motivated to get to it quickly, so that I could finally have the wind at my back.

And what a relief it was to run with the wind, instead of against it!  Of course, I expended so much energy in the first half of the race trying to battle the wind, that I didn't have much energy left for the last half of the race.  I pushed on as best I could.  When I rounded the final turn, I tried to kick, but I had nothing left.  I crossed the finish in 24:27, a far cry from a PR.  (My current 5k PR is 23:13)  But given the horrendous race conditions, and my complete lack of speedwork during the last 5 months, I was actually really pleased with my performance.  I wasn't sure how many women had finished ahead of me, but I didn't think it was more than about 5.  I was hopeful that I had placed in my age group.

Almost done.  And almost dead.
(Photo - Tremont Park District)

When Mike finished, about 40 seconds behind me, he confessed that it was the first time he had ever wanted to quit a race.  That's how miserable it was.

Mike (right) finishing. Not quitting.  'Atta boy.
(Photo - Tremont Park District)

Somehow, despite the horrible wind, fellow FASTie Stephanie managed to run a PR, which is very impressive.  Just imagine how well she will do in a 5k that doesn't have gale-force winds!

Yay Stephanie!
(Photo - Tremont Park District)

After we had recovered from our efforts, we all moseyed over to the awards presentation ceremony.  I knew Mike really, really, really wanted to get an age group award.  He's never gotten one before, but he's been getting faster as a runner so I thought it was a possibility.

They announced the female award winners first.  I was ecstatic to find out I won my age group.  And before you ask, NO, I wasn't the only person in my age group!

Like a boss.

Then they moved on to the male award winners.  They appeared to be having some trouble with Mike's age group (40-44), and they stumbled over a few names, but ended up skipping giving out awards in that group altogether.  Then they got to the Male 50-54 age group.

"Third place: Mike!"

So, he won an age group award.  It just wasn't in the right age group.  He alerted them to their mistake, and after some hushed discussion among the race coordinators, they ended up telling everyone there was a problem with both the 40-44 and 50-54 age groups, and they would contact the winners later, after they sorted it all out.

Well, damn.

Race results were posted online a couple of days after the race, but the results did not list ages or gender of participants, so there was no way to tell how Mike had placed.  But then, a couple days after that, they posted the age group award results.  They still had Mike in 3rd place in the Male 50-54 group.  But a quick look at the results of the 40-44 group, and it was clear that Mike should be in 3rd place in that group.

A couple of phone calls to the park district later, and Mike was the proud owner of his first age group medal.  And of course, he sent me a picture right away.

It's the right age group and gender and everything! 

"Aren't you glad you didn't quit?" I asked him.

"Yep!" he responded.

It's true what they say: Quitters never win, and winners never quit.

But it's also true what I say: Running in the sub-freezing gale-force wind really sucks, and it's best to just never, ever do it in the first place.

Peace. Love. Train.

Walt Disney World Marathon Weekend: Kristi & Evily's Goofy Adventure

When I first started writing this race report, I figured I'd write it like any other race report...  long and detailed. But the more I thought about it, the less appropriate it felt for an event like the Walt Disney World Marathon Weekend.  And so, instead of lengthy prose, I give you...  *drum roll*... a song!  Because "It's a Small World" is far too annoying of a song (sorry, Disney), these lyrics are sung to the Gilligan's Island theme song (which is marginally less annoying).

*begin music*

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

a tale of hell and heaven

that started from Midway Airport

aboard this 737

There was a tall blonde runner chick

and a short brunette for sure.

They were headed down to Disney World

For a race-running tour...

a race-running tour!

The Goofy Challenge was their quest

They hoped they would come through

They were going to run 13.1

plus 26.2!

The race expo was super-huge

and they wandered aimlessly

They bought t-shirts to brag about

their accomplishment-to-be.

After traveling all day they wanted some food

So they hopped on a pontoon boat

They set sail for Downtown Disney

on a 30-minute float...

a 30 minute float.

The House of Blues had yummy food

They ate and ate and ate.

But they had to wake at 2:30am,

so they couldn't stay up late.

They took a bus to the half-marathon start

It was a long and early ride

Then they walked a mile to Corral D

where they waited side-by-side.

The wheelchairs started at 5:30

then Corral A, then B and then C.

Finally it was time for "Da best" corral

to start its 13.1-mile journey...

13.1-mile journey.

The path was narrow, the runners were many;

They couldn't get ahead.

So they went with the flow and saved their legs

for the next day's journey of dread.

They reached the finish line intact

They still felt pretty good

They both received a Donald medal

just like they knew they would.

They spent the rest of the day at the pool

trying to relax

Then they went back to House of Blues

and carb-loaded to the max.

At 7:30 they went to bed

and fell fast asleep

But they still were quite unhappy

When the 2:30 alarm started to beep.

They donned their tutus and their Bad Axe Pigeon shirts

and headed back to Corral D

The port-a-potty lines weren't as long

So they had lots of time to pee.

The marathon began on time

They ran and ran and ran

through Epcot and Magic Kingdom

and then the pain began...

and then the pain began.

The miles got longer, their feet were sore

The sun was getting hot.

They took fun and silly photo breaks

every chance they got.

Lots of people noticed their shirts

Some asked "What's Bad Axe Pigeon?"

Other people recognized the towns

and yelled "Yeah Michigan!"

In Animal Kingdom they searched for a goat

but instead they found a sheep.

They also found a tiny owl

they really wanted to keep.

They nearly died at Mile 18

and have the picture to prove it.

At Mile 21, the green Army man

told them to "Move it! Move it!"

They hobbled as the pain grew worse

There were blisters everywhere

They dreamed of crossing the finish line

and sitting in a chair.

At Mile 26 their spirits soared

with the sounds of a gospel choir

The finish line was in sight

two more medals they would acquire!

They ran toward the finish line

shuffling with all their might

They crossed the finish victoriously

A stinky, proud, tired rainbow sight.

Two more medals they did collect

for a grand total of three

They weighed at least 2 tons apiece

They were very hard to carry!

The blonde and brunette runner chicks

were really rather proud

But the pain was just too intense

"Never again!" they both vowed.

Peace. Love. Train.

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.

Hey, can someone please shut down this blast furnace?

Gather round, kids; it's time for your semi-annual lesson in metallurgy! (Actually, I don't think I've ever given a metallurgy lesson here before, but after you read today's post, you're definitely going to want it to be a semi-annual thing. Trust me.)

As a metallurgical engineer, I've spent my fair share of time in heat treat shops, metalcasting foundries and steel mills. I find these places intensely fascinating - there's something hypnotic and awe-inspiring about glowing liquid metal and the processes by which it is produced.

Let's take steelmaking, for example. The first step in steelmaking is the chemical conversion of iron ore into a type of iron metal called pig iron. This process, known as smelting, takes place in a large chimney-like tower known as a blast furnace. Iron ore (which is basically rusty-looking rock) is fed into the top of the tower, along with coke (a coal derivative), which I assure you is neither an illegal controlled substance, nor a fizzy beverage. Very hot air, known as "blast", is blown into the bottom of the tower (at about 2200ºF), where it combines with the iron ore and coke from the top. This combination of materials, heat and oxygen produces a chemical reaction (aka, "magic") that causes the iron atoms to release from the ore as a hot liquid pig iron. The bottom of the blast furnace is tapped with a drill, the liquid pig iron pours into special rail cars to be transported to the next stage of the steelmaking process.

Blast furnaces like this one are used to convert iron ore into pig iron. They are really, really, REALLY hot. I mean, like, REALLY.

Now please wake up so I can explain why I just told you all that crap! Did you all realize that the term "sweat like a pig" has absolutely nothing to do with pigs of the animal type? It is, in fact, related to the production of pig iron in the steelmaking process. When pig iron is cool enough to be used in the next step of steelmaking, beads of condensation form on the surface. It begins to "sweat". And I'll bet you thought metallurgy had no practical application to running... just think of pig iron the next time you're pouring sweat during a hard interval workout!

It should come as no surprise that blast furnaces, and the buildings in which they are housed, are quite toasty; steelmaking is not for the faint of heart. If you don't believe me, just take a gander at this video of a blast furnace in action. Steelmaking will make anyone sweat like a pig.

But you know what else is not for the faint of heart? Running in Central Illinois in the summer heat.

Earlier this week, I went for some runs that felt exactly like running around a blast furnace. And for those who doubt my comparison... yes, I have been around a blast furnace; I know what it feels like (although I will admit I've never been compelled to run around one).

Last Saturday, my 12-mile long run was a hot, miserable slog, even at 7 o'clock in the morning. Sunday wasn't much of an improvement, although at least there was cloud cover and rain to cool me off a little bit. On Monday, my afternoon "easy" 3-mile run was anything but easy as I battled a heat index of 96°, a hot wind, and glaring sunshine. And Tuesday, at a 93º FAST run, I found my pace slipping with each consecutive 400m repeat, while my effort seemed to increase exponentially. It was only a 4 mile run, but I could not have run any farther if I wanted to. It was just ridiculous.

So after several days in a row of running in the Blast Furnace Zone, I really needed a break. The heat was dragging me down both physically and mentally.

The forecast for Wednesday called for more of the same - relentlessly hot, humid, and sunny. I wanted nothing to do with it. It was time to revisit my old friend, the indoor track. Some might say running in circles is worse than running in the searing heat. I respectfully disagree. Of course, I have logged so many miles on the indoor track, thanks to training for the indoor marathon last winter, that I have learned to find enjoyment in it.

And believe me, I enjoyed every one of my 75 laps (10 miles) around the track in relatively cool comfort. It was actually pretty warm and humid on the track, but it was much cooler than the 95º weather outside. My effort felt easy the whole time, my pace wasn't reduced to a crawl, I sweated but not like a pig, and when I was done, I felt like I could've kept going. It was exactly the boost in morale that I needed.

Mother Nature has finally given us a little break outside, and for a few days the temperatures should stay below 80º. What is it they say about the weather in Illinois? If you don't like it, just wait 5 minutes and it will change. Or 5 days, as the case may be. One minute it's a blast furnace, the next minute it's a cryogenic treatment chamber (that's another metallurgy lesson for another day... probably a day in the middle of winter).

So kids, let's sum up the steelmaking-running analogy (because there will be a quiz later): In Illinois in the summertime, we sometimes have to run in blast-furnace-like temperatures, which causes us to sweat like pigs (of the iron variety, not the animal variety).

For your homework, I expect you all to memorize the process of converting iron ore to pig iron. And I would like a 4-page typed, single-spaced essay on the history of steelmaking and how it relates to the sport of long-distance running. Extra credit for anyone who includes credible references to Jim Fixx and/or Katherine Switzer.

Who knew my engineering degree would come in handy for so much more than engineering??? I bet my parents are beaming with pride as we speak. And if they happen to be reading this, they should know they are not exempt from the quiz.

Peace. Love. Train.

Sweat Like A Pig: Birthday Edition

Well folks, this past Monday was my birthday, which of course means I am 29 once again. As I begin another year of being alive, I find this is a good time to reflect on events of the past year, and look forward to what the next year of life has to bring. I also find it a good time to eat cake. And for anyone who is trying to decide on that perfectly-themed birthday cake for me, look no further:

It's a running shoe! It's a cake! It's both! Although I'm pretty sure fondant, buttercream and devil's food cake don't offer much in the way of cushioning or stability. So we'll just skip the run and eat cake instead.

My birthday is also apparently a good time for my coaches to inflict all manner of pain and torture upon me and my teammates.

In all fairness, yesterday's FAST workout was one of my favorites. You all remember "The FAST", right? It's a tough workout, but the combination of hills and speedwork give it nice variety to keep it from getting boring (not that anything we do at FAST is ever boring). We hadn't done this workout since late last summer, so it was a pleasant(???) surprise when the coaches sprang it on us last night. The concept was simple: alternate 800m hills with 800m flats, with very brief recoveries between. As a member of the (unfortunate?) Black group, I had to run four sets of these, which really wasn't too bad. It was a shorter workout than we usually have (remind me to tell you all about last Thursday's 9 mile extravaganza of 800m repeats sometime).

I should've known, though, that a short workout meant the coaches were up to no good. They had a special birthday surprise for me in the form of, you guessed it, a maintenance mile. But this gift wasn't just for me. No, it was for all the FASTies. As Coach Brad put it, "The maintenance mile is a very large cake, and everyone gets a slice!"

That was not the kind of birthday cake I had in mind. *scowl*

The last time I ran a maintenance mile, which I remember quite distinctly because it hurt like hell, was during Winter FAST on the blissfully flat and climate-controlled indoor track (in a time of 7:24). Now I would be running a very hilly, hot and humid mile. Given how sluggish I had felt during the workout, I did not expect anything better than 8:30. And even that might be pushing it.

Coach Maggie wrote down everyone's predictions; whoever ran closest to their predicted time would get a Running Central gift certificate. Oh, and there were no watches allowed during the maintenance mile. I was exhausted and overheated and there was a big hill on the mile route, so I predicted 8:45.

Brad started several of us together, since he was the timekeeper. I tried my darndest to keep up with speedsters Tim and Brian, but I only made it about 10 feet before they took off like rockets and left me in their dust. I settled into a painful-but-not-quite-nauseating pace and tried to remind myself that it would all be over in just a few minutes. Then I got to the big hill and suddenly a few minutes felt like eternity. I was positive my pace had slowed to a crawl and that I would be lucky to finish this mile in under 10:00. I crested the hill and sailed down the other side, taking advantage of the "recovery" to get a little bit of my breath back, and then rounded the final corner to the mostly flat final portion of the route. Before I knew it, I was making my push for the finish and Brad was calling out my time.

7:51

Huh. Turns out I had more juice left in me than I thought I did. It wasn't a great mile by any means, but it was a whole lot better than I thought it would be. Needless to say, I didn't win the gift certificate (but big congrats to Brian, who did win it with his super-speedy 6:16 mile that was only 4 seconds off of his prediction. Talk about great pacing!).

So to sum up: For my birthday, my wonderful coaches gave me "The FAST", a maintenance mile, and no cake. There's something seriously wrong with this picture.

But the fact is, it's "gifts" like those that have made me a better runner in the last year. The numbers speak for themselves. In the last year, my average run pace has improved by nearly 1:30 per mile (that's right, a minute and a half... per mile!), my average run distance has increased by over 2 miles, and my weekly and monthly mileage has almost doubled. I am also running more days per week. Just this last month (May), I ran a record 185 miles. Also in the last month, I had a record mileage week of 48 miles. And the strange thing is, I'm not even really training for anything at the moment. I'm just running because I can and I want to.

I definitely wouldn't be where I am today without the pain and torture of FAST. So maybe their birthday gift to me was appropriate, even if it wasn't very much fun. Although I still think that some post-maintenance mile cake would've been nice. I mean, come on guys, we gotta refuel!

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.

Indiana wants me... to set a new PR!

Another weekend, another road trip! This time I headed to Indianapolis for the country's largest half-marathon: the 500 Festival Mini-Marathon. After all the easy-paced running at Flying Pig weekend, I was kind of itching to run fast. I had mentioned this to my coaches, so they had me do a brief taper this week at FAST, just in case I did decide to race. It was going to be a nearly game-day decision, based on the weather (which wasn't supposed to be great) and how I felt, but I was optimistic that I'd get a shot at a new PR.

Just can't wait to get on the road again...

When I finally reached wonderful Indianapolis (one of my favorite cities, along with Cincinnati and now Milwaukee), I checked into my hotel and headed straight for the race expo. It was a short block-and-a-half walk from my hotel. As expos go, it was okay. The Flying Pig is an event roughly half the size of the Indy Mini (20,000 runners versus 40,000), but the Flying Pig's expo is easily three times larger than Indy's. But it's like they say: it's not really the size that matters, it's how they use the floorspace. (They do say that, don't they?) There were some cool booths to check out (Saucony Kinvara 2's are out now!) and lots of official mini-marathon gear for sale. If I had known what was in store for me at the race, I might have actually bought something.

Expo!

I picked up my race packet and headed back to the hotel to see what sort of swag I had gotten. The last time I ran this race (two years ago in '09), I believe I got a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a tech hat. The swag is still similar, but the shirt is tech fabric and, thankfully, not white. Plus they've added something new: washing machine cleaner. I know what you're thinking. What's washing machine cleanliness got to do with running? Well, everything! If your washing machine is grimy, it means your running gear isn't getting clean. And dirty running gear is less aerodynamic, causing you to run more slowly. It's all scientifically documented. Really, I swear. So a clean washing machine equals faster running. I, for one, cannot wait to clean my washing machine and see a measurable improvement in my race times as a result.

Long sleeved-tech shirt, tech hat, and washing machine cleaner - score!

I was supposed to meet up with fellow FASTie, Nikki, and her family for dinner... but circumstances beyond our control prevented that from happening. So I ended up down at my hotel's pasta buffet for dinner. This turned out to be an excellent choice. I didn't have to make a reservation, I didn't have to walk anywhere, there was no wait, and the food was outstanding. I had a salad, some grilled vegetables, a breadstick, some penne with creamy tomato sauce, and far too many desserts (they were tiny, I swear). I definitely felt properly carbed up after all that. Nevermind that one really doesn't need to carb load before a half-marathon.

I moseyed back up to my room, relaxed on the very comfortable bed with my iPad, and then eventually drifted off into a good night's sleep. I woke up feeling refreshed, which was a stark contrast to how I felt the morning of my last half-marathon. No seagulls disturbed my sleep this time! I enjoyed a light breakfast and a cup of coffee and then I turned on some Get Pumped Music. Hopefully I didn't disturb my neighbors too much, but with a song like this, you just can't keep the volume low:

A snippet from my new favorite Get Pumped Pre-Race song. The Vulture, by Pendulum

I checked the weather forecast one more time, expecting to see lots of rain ahead for my race. But I was pleasantly surprised to see that the rain was supposed to hold off until about 10am. There was also very little wind. With temps in the low-to-mid 50's, a bit of cloud cover, and no wind or rain, I was definitely in business for racing this half. I was pumped!

The air was crisp and cool as I walked the several blocks to the start area. The sun was just starting to light up the eastern sky and runners were spilling out onto the streets from their various hotels and parking garages. This event, which consists of a half-marathon and a 5k, draws a combined total of about 40,000 participants. The starting corrals, which go from A to Z, stretch five city blocks. The last time I ran this event, I was in Corral S. It had taken me 45 minutes to cross the starting line after the gun was fired. This time, I qualified for a Preferred Corral, and was in Corral F. I could actually see the starting line from my corral! It sounds kind of ridiculous, but just being in this corral made me feel a faster and stronger. And part of me felt like I needed to prove that I deserved to be there.

Lucky Corral F?

As race time drew nearer, people starting filing into their corrals. I wanted to be front and center in my corral, so I got in early to stake my claim. I started chatting with a nice woman standing next to me and she mentioned that her husband had bought her an entry into this race for Christmas. She seemed to think that was kind of weird. Personally, I think it's awesome. I think more people should give race entries (especially for hard-to-get-in-to races like this one) as gifts!

Representing Team FAST

Soon we were singing the national anthem, and everyone was positioned in their corrals. I had nearly forgotten about the beach balls until I got hit in the head by one. Apparently this is a tradition, because it happened the last time I ran this race. Somebody (race officials?) release hundreds of beach balls into the corrals and runners hit them around until the race starts.

Balls flying everywhere!

Before we knew it, we were counting down the last 10 seconds until race start, and then we were off! It took me less than 4 minutes to cross the starting line. What a difference from last time!

I wanted to try very hard to run even splits for this race. That meant I needed to ramp up to my goal pace very quickly, which is something I'm not used to doing. No 11:00 pace for the first three miles to get warmed up. No, I needed to turn it on, and I needed to turn it on fast. My goal pace was 9:05, which would allow me to squeak in at just under 2:00. I honestly wasn't sure if I could run that pace for the whole 13 miles, but I sure was going to try. My first mile was slow, at 9:21, due to crowds of runners that were hard to get around. I didn't want to waste a lot of energy zig-zagging around people, so I just surged ahead when I was able and hoped the field would thin out soon. The field never did thin out, but the distribution of paces seemed to adjust itself naturally so that I wasn't constantly trying to get around slower people.

My next three miles were 9:00 spot on and I felt great. I decided to try to stick with the 9:00 pace until after Mile 7. If I still felt great at Mile 7, then I would try to pick up the pace a bit from there.

I can't say enough great things about the Mini Marathon course. It's flat like a pancake (mmmm... pancakes), and there's nonstop entertainment the whole way. The spectators are wonderful too. There is definitely no shortage of motivation in this race, and I could tell it was really helping my run. I pretty much smiled the entire race (except for maybe the last mile or two, when it got pretty intense). I sang along with some of the bands, high-fived lots of kids, and laughed at some of the more amusing entertainment (like the old ladies who were country line-dancing - awesome!). Who knew running at a 9:00 pace could be so much fun?

Then the course entered Indy Speedway. This part was wicked-cool last time I ran this race. And it is still wicked-cool. It's the most pristine running surface I'll probably ever encounter; nary a pothole in sight. This is probably the quietest part of the entire course, although there were several cheerleading squads in the speedway to give us a mental boost. They were truly wonderful - I don't know how they cheered for so long without losing their voices.

After leaving the speedway, we were at Mile 8, and I was still feeling very strong. So I decided to push a little more and see what I could do. I knew if I stayed at a 9:00 pace, I would be cutting it very close for a sub-2:00. I kept thinking to myself, "Leave nothing to chance"... I wanted to be absolutely certain I would come in under 2:00. If I ran a little faster, I could give myself a bit of a buffer. And so I pushed.

From Mile 8 until the finish, my pace was well under 9:00. In fact, each mile after 7 got faster and faster. It was definitely my day, and I was so ready to join the ranks of the sub-2:00 runners. I knew anything could happen between Mile 8 and the finish - I could trip and fall (a disturbingly likely scenario), I could hit the wall, the guy in front of me shaking out his left arm could have a heart attack and I'd need to stop to help him, etc. But I was trying not to think about those things, and instead focus on the fact that I had less than 5 miles to go... less than 4 miles... less than 3... less than 2... just 1 mile to go....

The last mile felt the longest, even though it was actually the shortest, time-wise. It was incredibly difficult. There was a man running slightly ahead of me in an orange shirt. I made it my goal in life to stick with this man. I was not going to let him get away from me. There were markers along the side of the road that said "3/4 mi to go", "1/2 mi to go", "1/4 mi to go". It seemed that these markers got farther and farther apart, and I was pretty sure they were moving the finish line away from me as I ran toward it.

But then something amazing happened. I made it to the finish line! It was a bit emotional, finally running a half-marathon in under 2:00. I glanced at my Garmin as I hit the Stop button. 1:56:55. Over 3 minutes to spare; I had left nothing to chance.

Leaving nothing to chance: the best half-marathon of my life. (click to see full-screen)

As I was walking through the finish chute, a man came up from behind me and said "Thank you. I just want you to know that you were my pacer from almost the very beginning. I just kept looking for your pigtails and red shirt. You really helped me. I just wanted you to know that." I don't think I have ever felt so honored in my entire running career as I did right then.

The Mini Marathon really knows how to make tired runners happy. First, they give out a super-cool medal which weighs about 6 tons. But they know that's a lot to carry around when you're famished, so then they give you a plastic grocery bag and fill it up with bananas, fruit cups, cookies, bottled water, granola bars and Gatorade. It was a veritable smorgasbord of post-run delicacies, and I was starving, so the banana and the cookie got gobbled up right away. They had professional photographers taking post-race portraits, so I stood in line for my picture, and then made my way to the post-race party.

Since I was alone, I didn't really plan to do much actual partying. But I wanted to find the Results Tent and get my official race time. When I did, I was beyond ecstatic.

1:56:52 (8:56 pace)

It was a PR by nearly 8 minutes (and that PR had only been set a month ago). I felt like a rockstar. I also felt really good, physically. When I had crossed the finish, I was exhausted. But I think that post-race banana and cookie really perked me back up. The walk back to the hotel was easy-breezy (no hobbling!), except for the ice-cold rain that was falling on me.

Did I mention the rain had started almost as soon as I crossed the finish line? It was like I had just outrun Mother Nature. And she wasn't happy about it at all! So for several blocks, I was wet and cold... but that made my post-race hot shower all that much better. Ahhhhhh....

And now, without further ado, the Shiny Medal of Victory!

Look, it's bigger than my head!

So now what? I have reached a huge milestone as a runner: the sub-2:00 half-marathon. I am absolutely thrilled! But am I satisfied? Heck no! I have new goals to achieve. New races to run. New paths to tread. The great thing about running is that you never have to be content with where you are; there is always something else to strive for.

I actually didn't believe I was capable of running sub-2:00 until I actually did it. It makes me wonder what else I'm capable of that seems unattainable at the moment. I suppose only time will tell.

In the mean time, now that Flying Pig and Indy are behind me, I am ready to start planning out my training for the Lakefront Marathon. Do I have goals for that race? Absolutely. Am I going to tell you what they are? Absolutely not!

So don't even try to ask. Because I ain't tellin'. At least not now...

Peace. Love. Train.