Colfax Through Hanson's

I started training for the Colfax Marathon on November 18, 2013.  Because Hal Higdon's training plans have never worked that well for me, I wanted something different.  I wanted a training plan that would hold me accountable and tell me exactly what paces to run.  I bombed my first attempt at running Colfax in May 2013.  By mile 8, I was cramping and miserable.  After mile 14, I felt beat down and defeated.  Mile 20 told me I was going to finish but at what cost?  Mile by mile went by and I held back tears and surges of emotion until I finally crossed the finish line in 4:24.  Ironically, when I crossed the finish I felt unstoppable.  After everything I'd pushed through to get to that moment I could get through anything life might throw at me.  I could have stopped at any moment.  No one was holding my legs to that flame.  It was all under my own will and stubbornness.  I've never felt pain like that before.  Every muscle in my body begged me to stop and yet I pushed forward. 

At the finish line last year

Six months after the race, I would think about the finish line and smile so enthusiastically you would have thought I finished just days before.  I wanted to recreate that feeling, but I didn't want to hurt this time.  I wanted to have an actual goal, beyond finishing, and I wanted to feel good at the finish line.  No walls, no screaming calves, no regrets. 

I felt like I'd been hit by a bus for weeks after the race.  I remember being completely delirious at mile 24 and for an hour after finishing.

After far too much research I came across the Hanson's Marathon Method.  Essentially this plan tells you to run at varied speeds to work the different muscle groups and create a level of cumulative exhaustion so that you never run feeling fresh.  Mimic the last 16 miles of the race during your long training runs, not the first.  Don't take days off because you are sore, push through it and get stronger.  Last year, I skipped easy days, I didn't pay attention to paces and I ran without focus.  The Hanson's Method doesn't work if you don't follow it very closely and I figured that out right away.

A sincere thanks Luke Humphrey and Hanson brothers.

I became obsessive about my running routine.  As the months went by, I got up earlier and earlier to fit in distance, speed work, strength and easy runs.  I felt it working and I kept thinking about that moment last May when I felt unstoppable.  This time would be better. 

Last Sunday I crossed the finish line in 3:55, just under 30 minutes faster than my previous time. I never felt truly tired until mile 25 where I reminded myself, "Five months of hard work for a few more minutes of discomfort."  I ran negative splits with my final mile at 8:26.  When I crossed the finish line I expected to feel euphoric like I had a year ago, but I didn't.  I never pushed through incredible pain to remind me that I am made up of pure grit.  I had a blister the size of Mars under my foot that wrapped in between my toes.  I felt it for 15 miles of the race and the oozing liquid spreading between my toes as it popped at mile 25, but nothing begged me to stop. 
 

This is just the top side where it stuck out between the toes, the bottom of it is the size of a half dollar around the pad of my foot.  The grass was wet by the port-a-potties and all our shoes were soaked at the starting line.  I've never blistered in my Saucony Virratas before the race. 

If I wasn't that tired, did I push hard enough?  Could I have gone faster or would I have crashed sooner?  If there was energy to spare, how do I train to go faster and feel the same sense of strength throughout the race?

There is no doubt about it, Hanson's works.  Not only do they prepare your body for the beating it takes in 26.2 miles, but the method teaches you how to taper, carbo load, actively recover, and push yourself to limits that have never been tested. 

What I learned was this, training for a specific pace works.  I trained for a 3:56 and ended up one minute faster than goal time.  That was a success.  If I trained for a faster time and put in the miles at that pace, I have renewed confidence my body could handle it as I pushed faster paces throughout the training, but I need to be more aware of my body as I pick up the pace.  I think I got lucky this time.  I ran 60+ miles a week for a couple months and didn't incorporate strength training and weights into my regimen.  Halfway through the race, my right hip flexor started to ache and reminded me that I have work to do.   The second time running the same race, my head was in the game entirely.  I ran mile after mile calculating splits in my mind, seeing what my finishing time would be at current paces.  I did body checks continuously asking myself, "Do I need water or fuel?  Is my stride good?  What hurts right now, what is giving out, what is not strong enough?  What can I improve for next time?"  I never wanted to take off faster than my prescribed pace because I respect the distance too much.

Running marathons is humbling.  It becomes addictive and the effort itself becomes more satisfying than the finishing times and results.  This time I wasn't euphoric about the finale because I steadily looked ahead throughout this process.  For 26.2 miles, I celebrated 1,000 miles of hard work in 5 months.  The race didn't feel like the accomplishment, the training did. 


~Roadburner

Eighteen Days Left Until the Colfax Marathon 2014

Less than three weeks left until the Colfax Marathon and I feel incredibly excited and nervous.  I've come a really long way.  I started amping up my mileage at the end of October last year and officially started training for this race in November, 23 weeks ago.  Since then, I've run 852.23 miles, and lost over a minute in my marathon pace.  I get up at 5:00 am consistently, and burn over 1,500 calories before I make my boys breakfast.  Six months ago, I dreamed of running 6 days a week, but worried the constant impact on my joints would kill my endurance.  It's had the opposite effect.  I am stronger, faster, and more determined than ever.

Last week was my peak training week.  I ran 67 miles total.  I remember looking at this week months ago thinking, "How on Earth am I ever going to get there?  I am tired running 35 miles a week, is it possible for me to double that number?"  I remember my friends and family thought I was crazy.  They would look at my schedule and say, "Wait, are you serious?"

To get over that self doubt, I devised a genius plan: Don't Look Ahead.  I followed the Hanson's Method to a T.  If they said run slow, I ran slow, knowing tomorrow would suck if I didn't.  On the days where I needed to run fast, I ran fast.  I didn't cheat myself and I pushed really hard.  Speed work days taught me I'm stronger and faster than I thought.  I checked off the workout every day and marked it in green, yellow, or red marker, allowing for daily reflection and growth.  Green days signified I ran well and wanted to continue.  Yellow was okay.  I was glad to be done, minor aches and pains were small annoyances but I pushed through.  Red days were agonizing.  I never bailed on a workout but I desperately hated myself on those days.  Thankfully, I only self-loathed occasionally.

By not looking ahead, I managed what was in front of me.  Somehow, I ran myself to this point.  I am excited to see how this race goes.  I am also terrified.  Five freaking months of training need to pay off.  I took it very seriously.  I didn't bail, cheat, or skip on workouts.  I started taking 3-4 ice baths a week (after every hard effort), 1-2 epsom salt baths a week (recovery days before bed), and I rolled out twice a day (once in the morning after I ran, and once before bed.)  I've never focused on my diet so much before.  Yes, cupcakes and brownies love me, but I ate fruit and vegetables at least 10 servings a day.  I made my own energy bars each week and focus on whole grains and lean protein.  This training period has been life changing.

Because I get up so early, my husband gets up with the boys every day and gets their day started until I get home.  He has been patient and understanding and somehow willing to deal with my exhaustion and obsessive behavior.  

All this hard work will pay off.  When I began this journey 5 months ago, I wanted to get a 4:00-4:05 marathon time on this difficult course but my tempo, strength, and speed sessions were significantly faster.  I adjusted my time to be sub 4:00, hoping to push myself a little more.  In the last month, I've noticed my kick is stronger and I am learning how to work with my body when it hurts.  I use more of my body now to run, not just my legs.  I'm becoming more efficient and finding new muscles and tone in my legs, arms, stomach, back, and shoulders telling me it is working.  Eighteen days to go, I'm ready.


~Roadburner

Spooked

5:00 am.  The neighborhood is pitch black.  Every once in a while I see houses and shadows illuminated by a stray street lamp.  To my right is a long stretch of open space that reaches for at least 10 miles.  I run back there, but not when it is dark.  My dog, Tucker, loves these runs.  He runs by his nose, flaunting that he doesn't need his eyes to see.

Now three miles in, I'm getting used to this 8:00 pace.  I feel good and my arrogant dog doesn't even seem to be trying.  Up ahead the road dead ends.  I can follow the loop around to the right or take an entirely different direction to the left.  Of course I will go right.  I always go right.  It takes me further.

At least 25 feet from the intersection I see a flash of black.  It ran straight into the open space along the road that I am headed towards.  "Shit, Tucker.  What was that?"  He turns back at me and sniffs.  Clearly, he is unscathed.  I haven't been afraid of running the dark for a long time...okay, a year.  I haven't had a choice all winter so I've gotten used to it.  But that black thing was huge and fast and scary.  I go through the options of what it could be: a coyote, a bunny, a bird, a stray dog, a cougar, a werewolf...  I still have the option to go left.  I can gain those extra two miles somewhere else.  Somewhere there aren't terrifying black beasts lurking on the other sides of corners.

No, I'm freaking 30 years old.  I run marathons.  I have my dog that I've nicknamed "Mace."  I'm not scared.  I'm fearless.  Go right.

As I run towards the open space I see nothing there.  "Stupid.  Why are you so afraid of nothing?  Whatever it was just ran into the fields and it is long gone."  About 30 feet after the turn there are no more houses to my right.  The change is marked with one final fence.  Tucker slows as we approach.  He hesitates.  Fearless Mace, reduces his speed to a walk.  He stalks a shadow on the other side of the fence.

"Hmmmmmm.  Okay.  I'm okay.  I'm okay.  Tucker's got my back."  Still running, I peer around the corner and BOOM a reckless crow hurdles out, striking Tucker perfectly in the nose with it's spread wing and flies to the rooftop of a neighboring house across the street.  Yes, I screamed.  I shrieked so loudly I'm sure I woke up an entire neighborhood. 

Humiliated, but laughing, I didn't stop to see lights flicker on, I sprinted away as the satisfied crow watched from above.  Lesson learned, at 30 I am still slightly afraid of the dark, and crows.


~Roadburner

16 Miles in Pictures

I ran 16 miles alone on Saturday.  Usually Monica and I like to run together for these longer miles, but our schedules were so busy that we just couldn't find a way to make it work.  I created a really neat loop that covered a lot of ground over 16.75 miles and thought it would be fun to show how much things can change mile-to-mile over that distance.  I love watching how the light changes in the morning.  It is the number one reason why I never mind getting up before the birds.

(Monica, I missed you the whole way, and I didn't want you to miss out on the beautiful views, so here you go:))

Mile 0.  5:15 am.

Mile 0.  Looking North East.  The light is not from the sunrise but from the community center.

Mile 1.5

Mile 1.5

Mile 2

Mile 3

Mile 3.75.  The tiny red dot in the top left corner is Monica.  She had a friend visiting from Ohio and they got a quick run in before her friend had to leave.  I saw them from a distance and waited for a while to see if it was them or not.  Monica, your red hat always gives you away!  ;)

Mile 5 

Mile 5.5.  I've never run on a golf course before.  It was beautiful running along the golf path for a mile.

Mile 6.  That's a mall and major highway in front of me.

Mile 6.25.  Headed under the highway.

Mile 6.5

Mile 7.5

Mile 8.5.  This park leaves out water and cups for park enthusiasts on the weekends.  While I didn't use any, I thought that was really cool.

Mile 10.  This is the cutest neighborhood.  I had no idea it existed. 

Mile 11

Mile 13.  At the top of a 2 mile climb.  I wanted to take a picture of the hill I just climbed, but I didn't because I passed a girl halfway up the hill and she was still back there when I turned around.  It felt rude to photograph her.

Mile 13.  Looking over the highway I crossed earlier.

Mile 14.5.  My calves cramped up suddenly at this point.  I took a Salt Stick and they were refreshed in less than 30 seconds.  That stuff works!  I highly suggest it.

Mile 16.5.  I saw my husband and kids pass by in the car.  They were headed to get me a special breakfast!

When I got home, my husband asked me if I had energy left in the tank for a hike and picnic.  Two hours later, we were at the top of Mt. Falcon, 3 miles total.  The sign above us means, "The well at the gate."  Inspiring, I know!

Looking out over Mt. Rosalie.

Before I started training for marathons, I had no idea how much ground I could cover in one run.  I have a hard time mapping out my runs now because I want something new and different.  It needs to have beautiful views and loop back to the beginning.  I don't like out and back routes, but creating something that covers so much ground is ironically difficult.  

When I got home on Saturday, my boys asked me where I ran.  I told them I ran behind Monica's house, to our library, down to the mall, past Daddy's work, and back up through our favorite playgrounds.  My youngest son said, "Mommy, that's not possible without a car!" 


~Roadburner

Birthday Bliss

I turned 30 last week.  I honestly never thought about living this long.  Not that I did anything stupid or risky to make me doubt such an achievement, but it always seemed a long way away.  Ten years old.  Now that is tangible.  I remember thinking, "Holy cow!  I am old.  BOOM!  I made it to the double digits!"  Sixteen had a ton of fanfare and served me well.  Twenty-one was okay, and again I knew I'd get there.  But each year since has slipped by unnoticed, existing only as an afterthought.

So where am I now?  I have a husband, two sons, my parents, amazing friends, a beautiful home, and I am happy.  I can honestly say I am happy.  I know where I come from.  I know where I am headed.  Things don't seem uncertain like they did in my 20s.  At 21, I had no idea how many kids I would have, where I would work, or live, or how I would stay healthy and sane as I aged.

I have more focus the older I get.  It's making me a better runner.  Ten years ago, I wouldn't have dreamed of running 60+ miles a week, taking infinite ice baths, rolling my legs out twice daily, and getting up hours before most the city rises.  This morning I ran a half marathon for the second time this week and while my body asked politely to stop a few times, I told her to, "Shut up and annihilate this thing," and she obliged.  That little insecure voice in my head doesn't speak loudly anymore.  During this round of training, I have pushed myself harder than ever before and each time I push, I get a little stronger.

In the last 7 days, I've run 64 miles.  Tuesday left my legs battered with lactic acid as I pushed that threshold as hard as I could.  For the first time ever, I ran a 7:11 mile after running 6 miles each under an 8:45 pace.  My calves didn't burn too badly while I ran at speed.  They waited to erupt into acidic flare while I cooled down on a giant hill near my home.  A man walking his dog stopped to watch me stretch out momentarily.  He snickered as I clutched my legs.  "Good run?" he asked. 

"Best yet!" I answered.

I run for health and longevity.  

I run to push my body to its absolute limits.  

I run to know what I am capable of.  

I run to teach my kids how to set goals high and then achieve their dreams.  

I run to see things that others can't or won't.

I run to watch the sunrise and interact with nature.

I run to belong to a special group of people that understand the same struggle no matter their differences in pace, distance, or finish.

I run to be alone.

I run to make my problems feel small.

I run for a beautiful body and strong mind.  

I run to compete.

I run for discipline.

I run to feed my fire.

 Why do you run?  

~Roadburner

 

Wabash Trail, Iowa

I'm a mountain girl to the core.  I grew up in the foothills of Colorado and have remained here all my life.  I've seen a lot of different places, so I wouldn't say I don't know anything else.  But I feel most at home here.  My parents moved to Omaha, Nebraska 12 years ago and I've never gotten used to the open plains and farmlands.  Ironically, I feel claustrophobic when I don't have snowy peaks to orientate myself.  The humidity chokes my lungs and the heat is an entirely different matter.

I needed to get 16 miles in last Saturday.  Mom and Dad love riding their bikes on the Wabash Trail in Iowa, so I figured this was a good opportunity to spend some time together and finally see the trail I've heard so much about.

We started in Malvern, Iowa, ran 8 miles to Silver City, and returned to the start.  Because my mom and dad rode their bikes, it was really hard to keep riding at a relatively slow 8:40 pace.  After no time at all they made sure I had what I needed and rode off.

Picture this.  The trail is a 64-mile-long stretch of fairly flat lands, partly enclosed by large deciduous trees.  Giant walnuts and acorns the size of my fist covered the ground so deep in areas, that I had to tip toe around the mounds.  As I ran by a mile-long wetland outside of Malvern, the frogs erupted in an incredible chorus of croaks.  I actually thought a diesel train must be passing until I realized no train tracks existed, it was the frogs.  The canopy of trees overhead were just starting to bud and when I looked at the trail ahead of me, it was an endless tunnel of green and brown.

Throughout the run I passed broken down cars, models dating from the early 30s, a plane chassis, and old railroad cars stacked along a river bank to protect the lands from flooding.  Somehow, this old junk didn't detract from the landscape.  It looked as if it belonged and added to the eccentric appeal.  Every half mile, I crossed a small wooden bridge, each one slightly different, but very much like I'd pictured from old movies.  Miles passed and I didn't see a single soul.  No cars drove by, farm houses peeked wearily out of the holes in the forest every so often, and even though I could see them clearly, many were a mile or more away.

It was a peaceful run.  I didn't wear ear buds.  Instead, I listened to the squirrels fight over the plethora of nuts on the ground.  Cardinals mocked my hunger the entire trek, "Birdy, Birdy, Birdy!"  "Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger!"  "Birdy, Birdy, Cheeeeeeeseburrrrrrger!"

Even though the trail didn't run up and down steep mountainsides, it was beautiful.  Each small town along the trail have maintained their farm routes and I appreciated that.  I liked running where I could feel totally alone, unhampered by technology or schedules.

My parents met me at the finish and took me out for lunch where all the locals stopped and stared at me as I walked into the restaurant dripping sweat and completely out of breath from running in the heat.  The owner stopped by our table and said, "So you must be the runner!"  News travels quickly I guess.  "Wow!  We get a lot of bikers through here.  Not runners.  Good for you young lady."  Give it some time, this trail will definitely gain popularity. 


~Roadburner

Fat Withdrawal

I reluctantly went to the dentist this morning.  It is the only place on earth where they make a habit of chipping away your bones.  Worse yet, my dentist is obsessed with Disney.  There is definitely something disconcerting about a 35-year-old tooth extractor who is infatuated with simple-minded, half naked, buck toothed animals.  I have a hard time taking him seriously.

Anyway, he's been telling me for sometime now to get my wisdom teeth pulled.  I disagree.  They aren't infected, hurting, or dirty.  They are mine.  I grew them and I say my teeth should stay.  I was discussing this with my husband last weekend.  I told him I am proud of every part of my body, as I was the one to grow it.  That's when he dug his grave, "Or shrunk it." 

I pondered that for a moment, wondering how I could possibly shrink my wisdom teeth.  If I could, that would be a great option!  "Sorry, doc, you can't pull 'em!  I shrunk them last Wednesday.  Boo Yah!"

Then I thought maybe he was referring to the baby fat I added when I had our two boys.  I gained 40 pounds with my second one and yes, I showed it in my face.  But it is gone now and it has been for 2.5 years.  Okay, maybe I am proud those extra rolls are gone.  Thanks for the reminder, dear!

36 Weeks Pregnant with my second child.

2.5 years later. 

Wait.  He was referring to my boobs!  Yes, running has dissolved most of my body fat over time.  Now that I've turned up the miles, my body eats the fat where ever it can find it.  Over the last 5 months of marathon training I've lost about 5 pounds.  I don't doubt that I can put it back on, brownies love me.  But it is gone nevertheless, and the first place my body decided to rob me, was the one place I couldn't afford a withdrawal.

Fine Randall, I will rephrase.  "I am proud of my body.  Anything I grew, shrunk, or aged, is mine.  If it isn't diseased, hurting, rotten, or falling off, doctor, you need to leave it alone." 

I have to go back in 2 weeks to fill a cavity.


~Roadburner