How Not to Run Mile Repeats

Since it is football season and all those darn college teams use their stadiums for practice, Matt and I have abandoned our favorite track and taken to the roads for our speed training.  We carefully choose quiet roads that are as flat as we can find.  This week’s choice was pretty disastrous.

Here’s what not to do:

1.       Run at lunchtime so a group of power company work trucks return from lunch in the middle of your second repeat.  It invites all kinds of stares, catcalls, and a general sense of feeling like you’re constantly in the way.

2.       Use the Garmin to find your distance, and then use tree branches and twigs to mark your half mile turnaround.  Then you return halfway, surprised when they have blown away in the wind with every. single. repeat.  and your mile splits include distances like 0.8mi, 1.13 mi, and 1.00 mi.

3.       Run them without a goal time.  For me, that pretty much guarantees my first one will be fastest and I subsequently slow down with each one.  

(warm up mile, [mile repeat and 0.50 mi recovery in between]x3, cool down mile)

But with the very loose goal of priming myself for next week’s tempo run (at a 7:30/mi pace), I just wanted to be faster than that pace for each mile…..so mission accomplished, I guess? 

Darkness

There’s something beautiful about running in the dark, moving along the road with just a beam of light to guide me.  The darkness envelopes me, hugging me like a comforting blanket.  The back roads are peaceful, just me and the sound of my footsteps.  There’s something about running under the cover of darkness that feels safe…until it suddenly isn’t anymore.

We all know the scenario and have had close calls on the road.  Drivers approach, flash their high beams to identify those glowing shapes in the roadway.  Natural tendencies prompt us to swerve toward what we’re looking at.  Some drivers slow down and move over, but too many times I have physically thrown myself into the bushes or ditch and narrowly missed being hit.

Yesterday morning, that horrible road runner’s nightmare became reality for three local runners.  All active members in our local club, they were the very definition of experienced.  Each one was properly outfitted for being seen on the road and they ran into traffic.  Heck, even the dog was wearing reflective gear.  But unfortunately, that sometimes isn’t enough.  Two sustained major injuries, one was killed on impact.  All three women are mothers of young children.  

The woman that was killed, Susie, was my Race Day Pace Car.  Although she was 40 years old, her experience and steady patience made her the ideal runner to keep pace with.  I beat her once, but mostly I tried in vain to catch her swooshing brown ponytail before the finish line.  The two other women, Terri and Jessie, usually came in just a person or two behind me.  Although I didn’t know them well at all, I understood the bond between these three runners.  They traveled in a pack.  When the newspaper announced two injured runners but didn’t mention the name of the third, we already had a pretty good guess who that Third Amigo was.  The driver of the car didn’t even stop.  You can read the news article: HERE.

This news rocked our close-knit running (and non-running) community.  If you find you have to run outside in the dark, please, please, please, do all you can to make yourself visible.  Safety gear is cheap and readily accessible.  You can buy one of those really ugly safety vests for about $3.  Visit the local sign-making shop.  They usually have scraps of reflective material they’ll just give away.  Carry a flashlight or head lamp and one of those flashing rear reflector lights.  Be prepared to jump off the road if you have to.  Do everything you possibly can.  The more you look like a Christmas tree, the better.  If you do your speed work in the dark, do it in a 100% traffic free area like a park.  Running hard only distracts you more and reduces reaction time.  Unfortunately, this isn’t always enough, so be sure you hug and kiss your loved ones every day, too. 

Give your favorite runner a hug today.  Tell them you want them to be safe.  And please pray for the families of these three ladies.  They can use all the heavenly help they can get.

High Altitude Mile Repeats

So, we all know I live at sea level.  I’m not talking about “middle of the country, about 1,000 ft”. sea level.  I mean the “I’m-just-inches-above-the-water sea level” kind.  My Garmin often gets confused and says I’m as much as -30ft. of elevation.  

Matt and I decided a few weeks ago that we’d go ahead and do our 3x1 mi. speed work at Santa Fe (7,200 ft.) just for fun.  Target paces were completely irrelevant, but we wanted to see what it felt like. We chose to run on the Arroyo Chamisos Urban Trail along the (dry) Santa Fe River.  Less chance of being hit by a car in our delirium that way, we thought.  Each mile went uphill gradually for the first half, and then down a little on the return trip.

First, here are my splits:

(rests were untimed, but probably about 5-7 min each, but I needed it!!)

Here’s what my body thought with each repeat:

0.10mi:

Brain: Woooohoooo!!

Chest: Feels great!

Legs: Yay, I love running fast!

0.25 mi:

Brain: Run hard…feel good.. Yes yes yes.

Chest: Why you squish me?  Not cool!

Legs: Yay!

0.50 mi:

Brain: Please. Stop.  Ouchie. *sobs*

Chest: I second that.  Death…comes….sooooon.

Legs: Noo!  Look, we get to go downhill!!

Brain: Oh boy! You’re right!

Chest: *gasp* Fine.

Legs: Woohoo!  Wheeeee!!

0.75 mi:

Brain: Kill me now.

Chest: Heart…explodes…in….5…4..3..2…..

Legs:  You two are such pansies, keep it up.

1.0   mi:

Brain: Keep walking legs.  *all blood rushes to head*  Woahhhh, that feels weird.

Chest: *gasp, gasp, wheeze*

Legs: More please!

All three miles felt like that and my times were very inconsistent.  I think that is the hardest my lungs have ever worked.  But wow, I think I’ve set a new “don’t whine until you feel this bad again” bar.

Tesuque Peak

As we drove higher up the mountain, Matt and Chris complained of their popping ears.  Mine didn’t pop.  Due to my cold, only sinus pressure built.  When we reached the parking lot at 10,027 ft., I thought my head was going to explode.  I had several mini tissue packets stuffed into the front pockets of my backpack and a few in my hiking shorts.  Still perpetually blowing my nose, we ascended the trail, a gravel service road up to communication towers just below the Santa Fe Ski Basin.  

I enjoyed the cool air this high up.  New Mexico’s height and dry air is much more pleasant at 50F than at 85F.

Trees grew densely in this cooler micro-climate.  Aspen grew along the damp hillside.  Winter is only a few weeks away up here.  Already mid-September, the aspen leaves glowed golden yellow.  My heart leapt with excitement.  I get to experience a little fall color after all!  The only fall color I experience at home is the deep purple of blueberry leaves before they fall dormant for the winter.  I miss entire hillside forests of fall.  The bright forest gave way to pine and then we broke above treeline.

The hike’s summit at 11,300 ft. set a new altitude record for me.  Views down the mountain afforded hazy skies over the dry, adobe buildings of Santa Fe.  Unlike Phoenix, Santa Fe appeared to adapt to the drier climate and not waste as much water on foliage that nature couldn’t support alone.  Nobody had green lawns down below.  We could even see Los Alamos, perched atop her distant mesa some 50 miles west.

The hike was just easy enough that Matt thought he may be acclimating to the height.  I just figured we were going slow enough that it was tolerable.  I enjoyed hiking in a new place with Chris.  He had never been up this trail either, so it was new for all of us.  I never really understand how alike my brother and I are until we spend time together.  Even his girlfriend mentioned that I’m “the girl version of Chris”.  I also have proof that my weirdness is genetic.  Crap. Haha. 

haha.

Someone else shares my love of shadows.

We explored a lot of the downtown Santa Fe tourist stuff before settling down for dinner that night.  We had dinner with Isaiah’s sister, Hannah, who also happens to live there too.

Guys, I really love my little bro.

Wrecked Travel Day

By Sunday morning, my body was waving the surrender flag.  Although my allergy symptoms were completely erased in the arid desert climate, I was now suffering from being too dry. My sinuses went into over-drive and it my nose ran constantly.  We had a pretty low-key day that I enjoyed from the back seat of the car.  Trying to recall what else happened is difficult.  It is all a hazy blur now.

Early Monday, I finally got the rest day I was craving.  For most of the Amtrak train ride from Flagstaff to Albuquerque, I got about six naps.  I awoke for some leftover pizza, water, and little else.  I wish I could have seen more of the landscape as we zoomed across the desert, but this day was exactly what I needed.   

I find that visiting high altitude places stresses my body cumulatively.  It never recovers much until I return to zero feet.  Basically, it feels like doing all activities in the same day.  But I love the challenges it presents at the same time.  For example, it requires about ten zillion glasses of water.  Every morning I awake with a hangover-like headache.  It takes a gallon of water to get it to go away.  Putting water in doesn’t pose a problem, but finding a place to pee while sightseeing is a bit dicey. Haha.

When we arrived in Santa Fe, both Matt and I were rested enough that we craved a run.  We went out with Chris along the Rail Trail path we spotted from the train from Albuquerque.  It was interesting how Chris’s acclimation to the 7,500 ft. city leveled our endurance to his.  We were gasping for air in the same way as he did even though we have much more solid endurance base.  It would be awesome to spend a few months training there and then run a sea-level 5K. 

My lungs and throat burned in protest.  My head pounded a throbbing rhythm.  We stopped at a stoplight near the end of the run and a rush of blood flooded my head.  It came on like an intense ice cream headache.  We took a long cool-down to avoid further head rush.   

It felt more like a 7:48/mi pace.