Fragile

When you get older, you realize how fragile things are. Emotions, people ... and your feet (profound, aren't I?). One tiny little change can throw off everything. You might not notice something is off when you're running one mile or even five miles, but log 20 or so in a day and tiny issues compound themselves and turn into one big problem. There's a life lesson in there somewhere.

I've been breezing through the training this year in a lot of ways. I've been stretching, resting and avoiding the pitfalls of last year. I've been running faster and smarter overall. Then, it happened. Last week, I noticed a pain in my arch on my Thursday run. I brushed it off. Saturday, that same pain decided to work harder to get my attention. The last 5 miles of my 20 mile run weren't pretty, but I finished them. I made it home, Taco Joint in tow and then, I panicked.

I went to the doctor. I got all kinds of advice from people. I iced, I taped and harder than all of that, I rested. I took three days off from running. Three days seemed like forever. Somewhere in the middle of day 2, I was chatting with the ever-wise Rachel. "I want to run today," I complained. "Well, which is more important, running today or running the marathon?" Ugh. Fine. I did it, bossy one.

So, this week, I learned again that I'm not invincible. I learned that sometimes instead of playing tough, I need to just be smart (see comment above regarding life lesson). Let's hope that I've saved myself an injury. One month from a marathon is no time for a breakdown (is there a good time for one? I'm due.).

P.S. Dear KT Tape - you're my new bestie. Thanks for getting me through this week.

Exhale

Saturday was my first real encounter of the summer with Swiss Avenue and the first time I had to face 20 miles in almost a year. For the most part, I was a little 5 foot rock star defying the heat and keeping on pace. I'm not saying that it was easy --- just that I felt confident for most of the course. It helps that we have these great runners at Luke's that go above and beyond the call of duty every single week. They put out extra coolers on Fisher, they reward my run up Sperry with cold wash cloths, they bring Popsicles at the end of every run... I can barely get myself out the door each week. I don't know how they manage to get up early to take care of the rest of us, but I would never survive the long runs without such great support.

Hard to explain the feeling of having a 20 mile run under your belt. It makes you feel all at once like you're confident that you can do this and that this whole thing was the dumbest idea that you've ever had.

Little did I know that the dumbest idea would come later in the weekend when I decided to take a core chisel class at Exhale. The class was supposed to strengthen my core, but the description failed to mention the beating that my legs would take on the "bar" portion of the class. You know it is bad when the worst thing you did you your leg muscles this weekend wasn't forcing them to run 3 hours straight.

Piece of Cake

Last week, I met Scott. He teaches a class on Wednesday evenings at Tread called Tread 54. It is set up the same way as a normal-demented-Tread class, but you only run for a total of about 18 minutes of the hour. The rest of the time is spent cursing the day that you were born while lifting weights ... or maybe doing my personal favorite, 1,000 walking lunges on the treadmill. If Scott said, "don't cheat yourself" one more time during that workout, I was sure that I was going to punch him. I kind of hated Scott and the next day, my legs kind of hated me.

A loop around the lake hardly seems worth writing about. It was easy going on Saturday for ATP. I thought that we were running 12, but it was only 9.3. Cakewalk.

Naturally, the easy week was just a ruse. This week we're back to craziness -- hill training with a big, fat 20 miles staring me down --- which, for those of you that don't know, is the exact opposite of a cakewalk.

Waterlogged

There's wet and then there's me on Saturday morning. When we got to the lake, it was raining with a side dish of lightning. Luke's cancelled the official run and pulled the water stops. I had a choice --- go back to bed (nothing sounded better) or push through the EIGHTEEN miles that I was supposed to run. The thought of getting hit by lightning was bad, but the thought of putting the run off until Sunday morning was worse.

The main problem with the Saturday a.m. run is that you don't just go about your life and then roll out of bed and run 18 miles. There's preparation. There's beer sacrifice. There's an alarm before dawn. As bad as it is to go through that, it is much worse to do all of that for nothing. All I could think about (standing in the pre-dawn drizzle) was that I was already out there. I was already wet. I would kick myself later if I didn't get it done.

I did two loops around the lake. I will admit a crisis of conscience when I passed my car after the first loop. So easy to just get in the nice dry car and head to my house. "Just run another mile," I said to my feet sloshing in my soggy socks... "You can always turn around." 9.3 miles later, I survived my first 18 miler of the season. It wasn't pretty (and neither was I), but I finished.

Take that, rainy day. POW.

My Cheating Heart

Taco Joint - you have to believe me - I never meant for this to happen. I was on the east side of town and ... well, Fuzzy's opens at 6:30 a.m. ... and bacon, egg and cheese tacos sounded so good after that ATP torture. So, I admit it, okay? I stopped. I ate two tacos, but it meant nothing to me. Nothing. The bacon wasn't crispy, the napkins were sub par, the ratio of cheese to egg was completely off. It wasn't the same as you. Not even close. I was a fool. I hope you won't let this ruin what we have on Saturdays. I never meant to hurt you.

Sweet Sixteen?

Here's what I thought was a good idea last week --- death by treadmill at Tread fitness. Imagine a 20 minute block on the front end of the class where you run massive hills and sprints until you're ready to pass out. Then, you move to the floor for work with the weights that makes you beg to get back on the treadmill. 10 more minutes running and finally, a few more exercises on the floor. Here's the death wish part... after I finished my first class, I decided to stay for the first 20 minutes of the class after mine. While everyone else packed up their stuff, I ran through the break and started the whole thing all over again. 7+ miles of hills and sprints in addition to some torture by dumbbells. What was I thinking?

Saturday, I ran 16 *$%# miles. When I arrived at the lake at 5:30, it was 81 degrees. I did okay until the last few arrows below, but I was definitely done by the time I hit the lake post Sperry loop. I don't know how I'm ever going to make it through 18 in two weeks. This third marathon might be the end of me (see "what was I thinking" above).

The course: Bath House (yawn) --> (special warm up, 7-11 water stop) --> Winstead (up, up) --> Lakewood --> Lakeshore ---> Cambria (pick up speed to MP)---> Lakewood --> Belmont --> Alderson ---> Richmond --> La Vista --> Swiss (turnaround, thank god) --> traceback to Lake (sigh at water stop) --> Sperry (up, up, cursing, up) --> (cold towels) Lyre (water stop) --> Santa Barbara (another hill??? up, up) --> Fisher (great water stop) --> Branchfield --> Westbay (ugh!) --> Lawther --> (at least 100 miles more) --> Bath House --> Taco Joint

Terrible with Raisins

"This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible.

This was terrible with raisins in it."

— Dorothy Parker

I'm having a bad week. One of those weeks when you just want to stay under the covers. I'm in a funk over some things and it has made it hard to train. I skipped running 2 days this week without a good reason which I *never* do. Perhaps more surprising, I had Oreos for breakfast one morning. I dare say it has been a crazy long time since anyone has seen me eat an Oreo (clearly, break cookies apart, eat one cookie, eat filling, eat second cookie).

It's funny how your life outside of running has a big impact on your miles every week. When you run, there's a lot of time to think and I usually enjoy sorting things out on the road. I have a lot on my mind right now and the miles might have done me some good, but I was tired of thinking this week. For the first time in a long time, I just didn't want to run ... and I didn't. It happens. I guess the important thing is what you do next. Sometimes, despite how you're feeling, it comes time to lace up, let go and just get back out there. Oddly, you *can* run when you'd rather be doing other things. Just ask me and my six miles this morning.

Exception to the blah week was the Belmont concert last night. Cold beer with friends + great live music + killer view = good times.

The Road Tonight

On Saturday, I ran 15 miles in the crazy heat. These days, I'm actually not sure if the heat is crazy or if I am. I do not like the days when I have to wring the sweat out of my skirt. That's not sexy. It was even too hot to think of my favorite part of the running program --- breakfast. I couldn't finish my bacon, egg and cheese tacos. This is a new low.

Bright spot in the weekend was Hayes Carll. His show was great and nearly made me forget that I had gotten up at 4:40.

Next week is our final day at the track (yay!) and we only have to run 10 miles on Saturday. Things are looking up.

Tread

Today, I went back for a visit to Tread (I knew Brandon missed all of my complaining). These people are hard core. During class, someone fell off a bench while we were doing some miserable hopping exercise. I kid you not - no one even stopped working out. The front desk person came into class, gave the girl some ice and carried her out. If the Tread junkies ever meet the ATP addicts, I think there could be a threat of world domination.

I keep re-reading the schedule for this Saturday. It seems that I am supposed to run 15 miles, but that must be a misprint, right? Someone asked me after the run last Saturday why we do this. Reading that schedule, I can't think of a single reason. Not even one.

The Napa 12

I spent the holiday weekend with friends in Napa. I ran almost every day. I made Luke run with me early one morning before we went out to drink too much wine.

The weather was perfect at 7:00 a.m. and the views were stunning. Not a bad way to start the day. We passed the main part of St. Helena before mile 2.

There weren't any convenience stores along our route, but we managed to fill up our water bottles along the way. I'm not sure how we found the only sketchy locations in Napa. First, there was a motel where I can only assume convicted murders stay when touring wine country. Booze bottles were lined up outside the doorways to each room and the management office was mysteriously empty. Luke, naturally, let me poke around by myself while he stayed safely outside. Water stop #2 was a fire station with no firefighters around. Luke tested the water from the outside hose. "Tastes like old rubber," he said. Yuck. Finally, we found an deserted strip mall with a water fountain.

I was only planning on going 10 miles. Luke was feeling good around mile 5 and suggested we go down the road a little before turning around. Famous last words. Before it was all over, I'd beat 12 long miles out of him. I'm pretty sure he wanted to kill me for at least the last 3 miles. "Come on! You can do it," I would shout over my shoulder. I could feel the death glare through the back of my head. At minimum, he wanted to kick me ... and he might have done it --- if only he could have caught me :).

Boy Talk

Last week, I saw Girl Talk at the Granada. So. Damn. Fun. I also had the pleasure of breakfast on Saturday with Luke, Tim and Craig where we spent a little too much time talking about ... um ... chaffing (ew). It was nice to have everyone back at the Taco Joint.

Tomorrow, I'm going to my first middle of the week ATP group run. I've been swamped at work and slightly scared of another foot injury, but I'm going to try to be brave in the morning. Plus = the group is meeting at Germany Park (which is right by my house). Minus = we're doing track work (where I injured my foot last year). I'm all about facing my fears, but next time, I'm choosing a fear that doesn't involve my alarm going off before 5:00 a.m.

Flight to San Fran tomorrow for a holiday Napa adventure. What's the over/under on me rallying the gang for a 10 mile run on Saturday? Talk about testing my "cruise director" status...

Hazy Days of Summer

Yesterday, I ran 12 miles. It wasn't too bad ---- all things considered.

I stayed up late on Friday eating dinner at the Mansion (hello, fancy pants). Believe me when I tell you that I would have paid a million dollars to sleep even 10 more minutes when the alarm went off at 4:40. So. Very. Sleepy. Saturday morning runs are a hard-to-explain combination of mind tricks, willpower, delirium and fatigue.

I ran with ATP again (clearly, I am insane). 2 miles, skipping warm up, 4 miles easy, 4 miles marathon pace and 2 miles of cool down (Winstead, Abrams --- hello, again). Last year, I just ignored all the pacing directives. This year, I'm trying to follow the program. I figured that it would probably do wonders to use the coaching that Maggie gives me instead of choosing to selectively hear things (like I do with most folks).

Next week, we're running at Norbuck Park because there's an event at White Rock. I'm not going to mention the hellish hills that await us to Luke and Craig. What a fun Saturday morning surprise that will be.

GO MAVS!

Okay - I'll admit that the Mavs don't have anything to do with my running, but COME ON, did you see them on Sunday night? Suck it, Heat.

Saturday, I got up at 4:40. I could have skipped because Luke, Craig and Tim were all out of town. Instead, I stumbled out of bed, ran 8 miles and had ate breakfast tacos solo before most people's alarm went off for the day.

Next week is 12. Are we already at our base for the summer? Going off the lake (anything over 9.3) makes it real. 12 isn't that bad, but it isn't that far from 15 or 17 or 21 either. People, it is practically the 4th of July already and before you know it, college football will be here and then, you blink and it is Halloween and two seconds later, I'm going to be 50. Wait, that last part got out of hand, but I think you get the idea.

Tomorrow morning is only 4 miles which means I can drink at least one more glass of wine before saying goodbye (and I won't miss you) to Monday.

Siren Song

I worked on Friday night until 10:30 and finished my documents just in time to get into bed in anticipation of my early morning run. Yeah, that's right, I lead a charmed life.

At the lake on Saturday, I bumped into Maggie and the ATP crew before the groups started. They cornered me about how I should run with ATP even if I didn't go the entire 10 miles (I didn't). I told them it was too much. I explained that I didn't want to be out done every week by a group of super-humans. It was enough that I was running a marathon, wasn't it? And then the ATP lies began...

"You won't be the slowest"

"Think how much stronger you'll be."

"This is your year!"

I absolutely told them in no uncertain terms that I couldn't ... but then, of course ... I did. Oh sure, I had the same amount of enthusiasm for the skipping warm up and the hip circles as I always do, but I still did them. Totally caved. Where was that trademark stubbornness when I needed it?

My reward this weekend was opening the pool on Bryn Mawr and swimming with the sweetest puppy that ever lived. I wish I had half of the enthusiasm for running that she had for belly-flopping in the water in pursuit of a tennis ball.

New York, New York

I spent last weekend with MFCS in the big apple. FunTimes (Scanlan's TM phrase). If I lived in NYC, I'd be as big as a house. Every day seems to involve a fun excuse to drink beer and carb load. Every night, as far as I can tell, involves coming home in the wee hours after one too many. This combination would make it nearly impossible for me to drag myself out of bed to run in the mornings. On the other hand, I'd get to run in Central Park which is a magical place on a pretty day.

I ran 6 miles on Friday in Dallas and managed to run one of the three mornings during my holiday trip. You have no idea what an accomplishment that was.

Miles logged in NYC? 6

Beers consumed? 87

Rookie Mistakes

Last Saturday was the Luke's pre-summer time trial run to determine which group we'd be joining for the summer. In previous years, I skipped this practice day. Saturday, I remembered why. Lots of group stretching and announcements. Pick a partner for this next stretch? No. I do not want to get out of bed for this. Mental note for next year (next year????), savor the last Saturday of extra sleep. Rookie mistake, KC.

We lost Jon and MK for marathon 2011 training. It seems one long bludgeoning by the 5 boroughs of NY was enough for them. I know Jon will miss it as sure as I know MK won't. Our new additions to Saturdays pre-dawn include Luke and Craig --- though truthfully, Craig shouldn't count because he could qualify for Boston and that really isn't even the same genre as what the rest of us are doing.

And yes, I'm committed to a marathon. I'm running in D.C. this year on Halloween weekend. Please book your tickets and start planning your costumes now.

This is Now

It is running season again. Time to start getting up way too early on Saturday mornings to run in what I can only assume will be oppressive Texas heat/humidity. Yes, that feeling that you're experiencing right now is jealousy.

If we haven't talked since last November (we aren't very close, are we?), I managed to slug my way through 26.2 miles in NYC last year, but (as I mentioned to everyone that would listen), I had to freebase Dayquil to get there. Running sick is not something that I recommend, but the NYC Marathon waits for no one. The picture here is a clear indication of my speed that day. I have never been as cold and beat as I was when I hit Central Park. However, despite each of us battling our own demons --- Jon, Timmy, MK and I all crossed the finish line --- God bless us every one.

The lottery for the 2011 NYC marathon has come and gone. I didn't get drawn this year. Fate has decided that I must run a different marathon (Fate and I are in arguments about a number of things at the moment). I still haven't pulled the trigger for what next fall's marathon will be, but the heavy favorite is D.C. at the moment. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, my triumphant return to the Taco Joint (no comments from the peanut gallery, please) will be in a few short weeks. Buckle up.