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

Doggy Pains

Tucker has tendonitis in his left paw.  He's never shown the smallest amount of soreness over the years, no matter how far he's gone.  And even with a sore paw, he refuses to stop running.  He just limps around looking at everyone like, "What the heck is your problem, I could easily have run further!"

He thinks I hate him all of the sudden.  Dogs are that self serving.  He watches me leave the house, while glaring at me through the windows.  "I could have gone," his pathetic little eyes plead.  "Bitchy human's been planning this betrayal all along."  When I return home from an hour plus run, he smells where I have been, tosses his nose up in the air and refuses to sit in the same room with a traitor.  I join him in the kitchen but he leaves and watches from afar, nosing my steamy perfumes from a distance.

There is nothing you can do for a tendonitis ridden dog, but let him rest.  Obviously this is cruel.  When I have pains in my legs, I roll the crap out of them, I ice them, take a ton of Motrin, use compression socks, and purposely limp in front of my husband to milk his compassion.  Within 24-48 hours I am back running again, but Tucker remains sore after a week of no exercise.

Tendonitis or not, Tucker is 8 years old and sprightly.  According to a doggy year conversion calculator, he is only 45.  Within a few more days he will be pulling me along the trails as always.  He isn't old yet, not like me.  I am a 133 year old dog!  I'm the one with reasons to complain. 


~Roadburner

Running date

For the second time in 6 years, my husband and I finally had the house all to ourselves.  What did we do?  Like any other exhausted parents, we went to bed before 9:30!  Instead of sleeping in, we jumped out of bed at 6:30 and quickly headed out for a run.

I prefer running dates over going to the movies.  Movies suck.  First of all, I finally get rid of my kids just to feel another lady's brat kick my chair repeatedly for 90 minutes or scream out inappropriately.  Why is that 5 year old in an adult movie anyway?  Furthermore, I've never understood why people bring their newborn babies to shows.  "Yes, thank you ma'am, I wanted to hear your baby cry for the entire movie because I desperately missed the cry of my two boys, whom I appropriately left at home." 

Running allows Randall and I to have quality time together.  We talk, grunt, laugh, compete, defend the lead...  It's fun.  He used to be remarkably faster than me.  Of course he enjoyed the lead, he is a man.  What hunter man doesn't enjoy being able to demonstrate his ability to chase down prey, or a car, to his slower nut gathering wife?  But in the last year, I've taken the lead as Randall has suffered with injury.  He could probably still beat me in the mile, hands down.  But I have endurance, and in my world, that means everything.  I just need to tire him out.

"How far we going?"

"Only 7-8 miles.  The schedule says 8, so..."  I looked at the path ahead and smirked.

"There is no way we are going 8 miles, Jen.  We are already 5 miles from home and I know we are running on your 11 mile course.  I helped you map the damn thing a few nights ago.  Oh, and didn't you say we were going to take it slow?  This isn't slow.  This is one minute per mile faster than you promised."

I love spending time with him.

~Roadburner

Colfax Marathon Round 2 Game Plan

With six and a half weeks left until the Colfax Marathon, it's time to start creating a game plan.  How do I improve on last year's performance?  (Here is last year's race report.)

First of all, I am stronger this time around.  I've doubled my training, both in miles and intensity.  Before this round of training, I never ran tempo, strength, or speed runs.  I just ran to cover the distance.  Last year it was about the time on my feet, while this season is all about posting quality miles.  April 2013 drained me.  We moved, my whole family got pneumonia, and somehow I ended up with pleurisy.  My lungs burned walking from the kitchen to the couch but stubbornly I refused to drop out of the race.

Considering my goals to simply finish last year, I started too fast.  I wasn't ready to hold a 9:00 pace.  I hadn't trained for that and my lungs were still too weak.  I let the excitement of the day get the best of me.  Miles 5-15 are all uphill and instead of pacing myself, my splits were all over the place.  I wanted to run how I felt and I think this was detrimental.  I felt good in the beginning so I ran faster.  By the end, I had no energy left and I crashed.

At mile 15, I stopped to collect myself.  I was ready to drop out of the race altogether.  I realized that running marathons wasn't very fun.  It is work.  And focus.  Standing completely still in the middle of the race course while everyone else ran by me was surreal.  I let what seemed like a hundred people pass as I just stood motionless before deciding I needed to finish.    

At mile 17, I saw my husband on the side of the street.  He ran up next to me and joined me for about a quarter mile.  My sudden change in pace from an 11:00 mile to a 9:46 shows how much I needed to see him.  Randall told me he would see me at the finish line and I promised I'd make it.  It sounds really stupid but in my oxygen depleted state, I didn't want to let him down.  I said I would be there, I didn't want him to worry so I had no choice anymore but to finish.

Miles 23-34 suck.  Whoever designed this course is a sadist.  The hill is huge and completely out of no where.  I've worried about this damn hill ever since and quite honestly, I have no idea how I am going to get up that thing again.  I've spent a lot of time training on hills and finishing long runs on hills, so I hope that counts for something.  If not, wave to me from the sidelines, I'll be the one walking, cursing, and grunting.

So what have I learned in the last year?  Starting slow is key.  While I want to average right at 9:00 miles, I need to start the first few slower than that by a good 20 seconds per mile.  I need to reserve energy to pull me up that dreaded mountain at the end.  Second, I didn't take enough Gu last year.  I need to make a concerted effort to down carbs every 5 miles.  That may be a lot for some people, but when I practice this during training runs, I consistently perform better.

Next, I need my husband to be at the 20th mile.  The boost of energy he gave me at mile 17 was heaven sent.  I will never be able to describe what seeing him did for me.  I was covered in salt, sweat, and tears.  I was starving, my lungs were on fire, and emotionally I was falling apart.  The second I saw him standing there, I pulled myself together.  I wanted to look strong for him and I needed him to be proud of me.  Appearing solid for him made me feel more energetic for the next few miles.  This time I want to see him again closer to the finish.  I hope that surge carries me beyond mile 20.

Randall and me just before the race.

If I feel good between miles 17-23, that would be a good time to speed up by 10-20 seconds per mile to bank a little time for the hill.  I don't plan on it looking pretty as I trot up that thing, so if I can slow back down to a 10:00 pace without loosing overall time, I will curse less. 

I still have no idea how I want to carry my hydration.  Last year I carried a backpack but I've only worn it once in the last year and it was really heavy and hot.  I don't do well with hydration belts because they make me cramp.  I usually just carry a water bottle, but not for 20+ miles.

3:58.  That's my primary goal for this race.  I'm trying to cut off over 26 minutes from last year's time.  I need to run an overall 9:00 pace, while allowing for a slow warm up and an ugly finishing hill climb.  During my longer training runs, I consistently push that pace to 8:40 miles, but I don't want to get overconfident.  Last year I learned to respect the distance. 


How have you changed your strategy on the same course from one year to the next?
What do you use to carry your hydration?
Who or what do you need at your tougher races to pull you through?
How often do you take carbs during the race?

~Roadburner

Recovering through Sports Massage

Do you take your underwear off when you get a sports massage?

I contemplated this for a few hours before my appointment finally arrived last Wednesday.  Of course it makes sense that you need to be naked, or at least close to it for a regular massage, but if they are focusing on your legs, and the muscles surrounding those tender spots, I don't want to be left fully defenseless.

I took a completely opposite approach and decided to wear jeans to my first sports massage.  Dumb.  Don't do that.  As it turns out, the massage therapist, Scott, took 20 of the 60 minutes to stretch my legs out fully and jeans are cumbersome and slightly embarrassing.  I couldn't move appropriately and instead I looked like the rusted Tin Man.  

It finally came time to disrobe.  I asked Scott to spend the entire session on my legs so I felt this was a rather crucial decision.  After a lot of silent debate, I kept my underwear.  There are muscles and ligaments in my leg that feel like they attach half way up my spine. 

It is crazy how many muscles are in our legs!

He kept laughing really hard saying, "Wow your muscles are PISSED!"  Well, thank you Scott.  Any self doubt that I once had has definitely multiplied.  "What are you doing to yourself to make them this angry?"  Another gem was, "You aren't very fast are you?  You are way too flexible to be a sprint distance runner."  But my favorite compliment of the session was, "Even though you can't be that fast, you are built for endurance.  See these muscles, they are your distance muscles.  They are the really pissed ones."

Apparently you are supposed to take 1-2 days off after a sports massage before returning to your normal training routine.  I didn't know how important this was until a few days later.  I knew I would be sore.  He kept telling me that over and over again as he massaged out the anger from my legs, "Oh, you will feel this one again tomorrow!"  Scott has a way with words.

I only ran 5 miles the next day, but I also hiked 3.5 miles and stayed on my feet constantly.  Two days after the massage I ran 10 tempo miles.  My calves kept aching for a few days still and I questioned whether the massage did more harm than good.  But five days later, I felt really good and my calves felt remarkably less rigid.  Regrettably, I ruined that progress in one 16 mile trail run and now I am sore as ever and my muscles remain pissed.

It was a good experiment in recovery.  I am always looking for new ways to improve the process and I did learn a few good things along the way.

• Don't run after a massage.
• Epsom Salt baths 2-3 times a week can relieve muscle soreness.  I thought this had to be a load of Scott's crock but I tried it and did some research and it really works.  
• Epsom Salt kills fruit flies in your plants, aids constipation, and provides a safe and healthy facial scrub.  Who knew? 
• Ice baths truly do help.  I do them 3 times a week, Scott said do them 5 times a week.  Honestly, I hate him a little more now.
• Stretching is worth it, I also learned a few new stretches to relieve calf pain.
• Foam rollers are the nicer version of a massage therapist.  They don't speak. 

Because I don't do it often enough, I let a lot of acid build up in my muscles.  It was really painful and I think for it to be truly beneficial and not set back my training at all due to the soreness, I would need to do it much more often.  I 100% believe in the healing powers of massage, but I won't be getting another one until I finish the Colfax Marathon in May.  That said, I plan to get one that day if possible.

~Roadburner

 

Conquering the East West Trail Line End-to-End

For three years I've wanted to run the East West Trail from end-to-end.  It is a trail line that is very close to my house and I've run every piece of it, excluding the last mile, just not all at once.  Last fall my friend, husband, and I all decided to pick a date and go for it, but illness and injury set us back.  While driving by a small stretch of it Saturday afternoon, I regretted missing that run.  It was going to be epic.  We planned stashes of food and water along the 16 mile course.  We promised to celebrate with beer and great food at the finish.  I still wanted to go.  My friend, Monica, and I needed to run 16 miles this Sunday anyway.  And truthfully, it is really hard to find a 16 mile loop in the middle of the suburbs that include interesting scenery and something new.  This fit the bill so I called Monica and asked if she were game.

Mapmyrun.com I made the map the morning before the run.

 Monica has never told me, "no."  She's a great friend like that.

So we quickly stashed a car at the finish line and rushed over to the Cabella's in Lone Tree, Colorado where the trail officially starts.  Our husbands and kids waved us goodbye.  I quickly told my husband I would send him a Glymse if something went wrong.  If we were radio silent, things were good.

The trail starts uphill.  We climbed 500 feet up a system of hills called the Bluffs.  We ran down this hill a month before and we lamented it is much more fun to run it in reverse.  Nothing like warming up on a 7% grade.  The 360 degree views from the top of the hill are absolutely stunning.  You can see all of Denver, the Tech Center, Foothills, and even as far south as Colorado Springs.  The trail is crushed gravel and considering the 20 mile per hour winds, we were making good time.

8 miles in.  The trail switched back to crushed gravel from rocky single track.

After heading down the other side of the Bluffs, we started ascending Wildcat Mountain.  It isn't a huge mountain, but I look at it everyday from my house.  The climb fluctuates between 7-14% grades for almost 2 full miles by the time we reached the back side of the mountain and finished at the top of the ridge near Castle Pines.

Monica standing in front of Wildcat Mountain in the distance and behind that are the Bluffs, where we started.

Going into the run, I already covered over 47 miles in the last 6 days.  (I logged 63 miles this week after completing this run.)  By the top of those hills, already almost 2,000 ft in elevation climbed, my legs felt weak and tired.

Exactly 10 miles in, there is a compass rose that points to major land marks.  As the crow flies, it is 1.7 miles, as my legs ran, much, much, much further.  I should have been a bird.

 But as the trail became more narrow and we bounded up and down the rolling hills, I felt refreshed.

The next 4 miles are rolling downhills followed by a final 2 mile short climb. 

Miles 8-14 felt amazing.  I was easily conquering the trail that I'd wanted to cover for so long in one stretch.  I love the Highlands Ranch Backcountry.  It is the number one reason I am grateful to live in this town.  Sure the schools are great, the rec centers are a definite bonus, but really, it is the trail system that allows me to escape the city and find some inner quiet that I truly appreciate.  All these thoughts were happily bouncing through my brain, until Monica almost got hit in the back by a mountain biker.

We were cruising along a nice stretch of open grass lands.  The trail is narrow single track with lots of rocks, sand, bends, and bumps.  We just turned down a slight hill and were nearing the bottom when we heard a loud screech and sand went flying in every direction.  Naturally, both of us vaulted off the trail before looking behind us to find a man laughing his ass off.  He thought it was hilarious that he came really close to creaming Monica in the back and was not shy about his demented sense of humor.  Neither of us had headphones.  We weren't talking.  We were peaceful and quiet.  He came out of no where and made no apology for his dangerous riding.

I have yet to see a sign like this on any of the trails.  I think it is time the city invested!

After he zipped by, we took a moment to collect ourselves.  We had 2 miles left, all uphill and that 20 mile per hour wind was relentless.  More and more bikers came out of no where and while I too mountain and road bike I pride myself in knowing the yield laws.  All but 2 of the 25 bikers we met needed a reminder.  It is really hard to start running up a steep hill and stop again 30 feet later to let someone pass, then to start up yet again.  It was killing my knees.  Even Monica grumpily breathed behind me, "If I have to stop one more time, I might not start again..."  Agreed.

Sixteen miles is not my longest run to date.  I run trails all summer long.  But when I saw the sign that marked the end of this journey I was elated.  It felt like a real finish line.  At a half or full marathon the crowd pulls me to the finish.  I love the cheering fans and the cow bells ringing.  When they place the medal around my neck I know I accomplished something big and honest.  This finish line didn't have any of that and yet it felt bigger and in many ways better.  It was a private euphoria. 

Not a thrilling sign, but it holds new meaning.

Together, Monica and I covered 16 miles and 2,300 feet of elevation gain, in two and a half hours.  We stopped at the inconspicuous sign that marked the end of the trail, threw our heads between our knees for a while, took a few pictures, and walked to my car.  It wasn't exactly the most thrilling celebration, but I felt infinitely proud.

Our kids and husbands were waiting there to surprise us for almost an hour.  They let the kids play at the playground and fly kites to pass the time, but when they saw us they came running up the sidewalk full blast, smiles huge!

My oldest son asked his dad while waiting for us to arrive, "Did mommy really run from one side of our city to the other?"  Yes I did! 

ER visit

I spent the entire weekend laid up in bed.  It sucks to stay still.  Friday night we were at a friend's house and out of no where I was doubled down on the floor in excruciating pain.  We went home abruptly and I jumped in the shower, hoping the hot water would somehow relieve the sharp pains in my abdomen.  It didn't.  My husband put the kids to bed and for the next few hours we debated the necessity of visiting the ER.

This happened twice before, so I had an idea what was going on.  I knew it wasn't a medical emergency, but it hurt like one.  A sharp constant pain radiated from my right side.  I shuddered in pain, nauseous from the sudden onset.  I made it until morning with little sleep but still wanting to make sure it was benign and not appendicitis, I checked in to the ER at 8:00 the next day. 

After a thorough ultrasound, we confirmed it was a ruptured cyst, one that continued to bleed and left my stomach so swollen, by 6:00 last night I looked 3-6 months pregnant.

I only have 8 weeks left until my next marathon.  I was supposed to log 18 miles this weekend, not be bedridden, unable to walk. Any pressure on my stomach is very painful, lifting heavy objects is unfathomable, and I have no idea how running will feel.  The Hansen's Method says taking more than a couple days off can reverse your training so dramatically that you may want to rethink your original goal time.  I've worked too hard to rethink my goals.  I took a lot of time off this week already for a stupid head cold.  I know I need to heal entirely so that I can race on May 18, but I also need to keep up my fitness levels so that I don't take a huge step backwards.

I've taken 2 full days off, including complete bed rest.  Last night I had the best night of sleep I've had in over 7 years.  Thank you Percocet.  While I laid in the ER hospital bed, I asked the doctor, "When exactly can I run again?"  He laughed and said, "I am sure you are one of those that will run no matter what, so how about this?  Run when you don't hurt anymore.  If you start hurting, stop running and try again tomorrow.  Deal?"

"DEAL!" Tomorrow, I will run 5 miles and I promise to take it easy.