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| Revere Beach |
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| On a quiet run in Revere before heading into the city on Friday. |
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| I spotted hundreds of pots like these throughout the city. |
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
The Boston Experience
The twenty-six miles of the Boston Marathon course aren't really that remarkable. Weaving its way from the suburbs to the city, I've run several marathons with the same setup. The mystique and attraction of the Boston Marathon isn't the course at all.
America's longest continuously run marathon, Boston has the most remarkable stories in its 119 year history. From Katherine Switzer being pulled from the course upon discovering her gender to the fact that it serves as the Everyman's Olympics because of its qualifying standards, the history of this race is what admittedly piqued my interest.
The most beautiful thing about this marathon in particular is that everyone, runner or not, is interested. In the days leading up to the marathon, everywhere I looked, yellow and blue appeared. An excited buzz built as more people poured into Boston. Since the race is held on a local holiday, Patriot's Day, an astonishing amount of people pay attention to the race. Businesses offered discounts to anyone with a bib number. A marketing ploy of course, but I appreciated the fact that everyone seemed to find a way to be involved.
If you're sporting that marathoner hobble while walking to the T on Tuesday morning, strangers smile and say congratulations. I don't think any other city in the world loves their marathon quite as much as Boston does. It was such an honor to be able to participate and experience it this time as an athlete rather than a spectator.
As Matt and I boarded a bus to the airport to get our rental car, surrounded by a sea of purple marathon jackets, an older lady called out. "I love the day after Patriot's Day! It's the one day each year I know I can outrun all of you."
I enjoyed every minute of it...even though my fingers still feel swollen and tingle as they thaw out. ;) Thank you Boston for such a beautiful experience.
Friday, April 24, 2015
Boston Marathon Race Report
Not even an hour after waking, I find myself sleepily cresting the top of Beacon Hill as Matt, Jorge, and I walk quietly to the buses. Filled with a mixture of dread and anticipation, I urge myself to remain hopeful despite the dreary forecast of wind and rain and 45 degree air.
Light rain greets us at Hopkinton and we waste no time getting a foil blanket and finding a cozy place under one of the tents. Rain drums on the wall as I regret my decision to accompany the boys at their wave's scheduled time instead of mine, some two hours later. After shamelessly acquiring a pile of discarded warmup clothing for myself and the lady sitting next to me, I'm almost warm enough to stop the shivering. I head to the porta potty and marvel at its unusual warm coziness, trying not to think too much about why it's so warm in there. Matt and the boys dash off to begin their race and I'm left alone. I chat with a nice woman from Valparaiso, Indiana, but soon she disappears for her wave just ahead of mine.
Soon it's my turn. FINALLY. I'm so excited, not for the race, but about the idea of becoming warm again. We're shuttled to the corrals, a sea of pajama-clad adults headed to a group slumber party. En route, volunteers are collecting discarded warmup clothes. Since there's no bag check at the start line, everything discarded will be donated to charity. I secretly wish I could dig through the discarded clothing and update my personal wardrobe. Apparently I wasn't the only one because several women stopped and asked for a sweater, jumping up and down happily when they found something in their size. I pull off my sweatpants as I squeeze into my assigned corral. Just as I consideer dumping off my fuzzy chenile sweater, it begins to rain. Then I make the decision that likely ended up saving my race: I keep the sweater on with plans to drop it later. (Spoiler alert: I've still got it.)
The race begins with a starting gun. Tears begin immediately. I can't believe I've made it to this place. Years of hard work, shortcomings, and triumphs--I'm actually running the Boston Marathon!!! Before I can become too much of a wheezing, sniffly mess, I calm myself down as I high five a long string of children lining the road. I spot an older man ahead of me wearing the shirt from a ski race in my hometown. I chat with him a few minutes as the pack spreads out and wish him good luck before I pull off ahead.
Mile 1: 8:05
Mile 2: 7:37
Mile 3: 7:37
I pay little attention to my watch other than to record the mile splits. I notice that even with the downhill, I need to control my speed and begin focusing on running slower. A few days before the race, Matt and I made a competiton: Who could run closest to the goal pace at the halfway mark. I may never beat him at a race, but this is definitely a competition I wanted to win. Besides, I knew my legs would thank me later for the conservative start.
Bargoers on the porch of a local tavern raise glasses and cheer as we pass, but otherwise the trip through Ashland is fairly quiet.
Mile 4: 7:45
Mile 5: 7:51 (Shot Bloks x2)
Mile 6: 7:45
Even with two pairs of gloves on my hands (never ditched the warmup gloves either), I find it increasingly difficult to use my fingers. By mile four, I'm already completely soaked and the black fuzzies from my shirt are beginning to collect on the white gloves I use for yardwork and to bring firewood in the house. Two girls wearing team jerseys from my alma mater run by. I quicken my stride to catch up and chat with them, telling them I'm an alum of the very same state college. They tell me they graduate in two weeks and I drop back to my own pace as we wish each other good luck.
Mile 7: 7:45
Mile 8: 8:00 (salt tab)
Mile 9: 7:52
Every few miles, we pass into another town. Each one feels more like a city and I can sense Boston growing nearer. By mile 10, we're running through Natick and as I crest one of the small rolling uphills, I notice that I've lost feeling in my butt. It's gone numb. It will stay that way through the remainder of the race. Frozen legs don't ache as badly, so no complaints here.
We continue on and by 11 miles in I notice an increasing soreness in my right arm from at least two hundred high fives. When I finally hit Wellesley, the spectators are more aggressive with their high fives and I accept fewer as I shake the stinging burn out of my palm.
Mile 10: 7:54
Mile 11: 8:02
Mile 12: 7:54 (Shot Bloks x3)
Mile 13: 8:00
I reach the halfway clock in 1:43:01 (7:51/mi.). Overall my pace feels strong and even. Since each mile marker is also an aid station, I've worked it out in my head to stop at every other one and find myself in a rhythm even with the water stops. (It's cool how you can see those stops in my mile splits, they're in the odd numbered miles.)
Mile 14: 7:52
Mile 15: 8:03 (salt tab)
Mile 16: 7:57
The roadside crowds grow larger with each passing mile and by the time I reach the famed Newton Hills, I can barely hear the sound of my shoes slapping through the puddles. The first hill I actually notice at all is at mile 17 and on the climb out of Lower Creek Falls. My legs protest the sudden change in elevation as I grind to find their uphill gears.
Mile 17: 8:11
Mile 18: 8:22 (Gu)
Mile 19: 8:05
As if part of some cruel cosmic joke, the wind picks up just in time for the most difficult spot on the course. I tuck in behind a very tall man in a neon green shirt. We trade the lead through the crest of Heartbreak Hill at mile 21. Even though I can tell by my footfalls that I'm slowing, we begin passing people as if they're standing still, including those two super-intimidating college runner girls I talked with miles earlier. Some people up ahead have even begun walking. I spend the next few miles thinking about how my hilly training runs in the wind and rain were good preparation for this race. Yay, soggy Humboldt County!
Mile 20: 8:14
Mile 21: 8:35 (Gu + salt tab)
I breathe a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad! From here, the hills are over and the course dips downhill. I pull up behind not one, but two women who have literally been having a shitty race and make it my goal to pass them, just because I'm uncomfortable with the fact that I just can't help but stare in horror at their soiled shorts. I wish I had the ability to dig THAT deep. By now, my hands are so frozen that they have become useless. After pulling to the side for the third time in the race (again fighting with those bags containing my salt tabs), I vow to drink my calories until the end. No point in letting it suck up any more time.
Mile 22: 7:57
Mile 23: 8:16
By the time I reach Boston College, the course is packed with drunk college kids that give spirited high fives and are literally screaming at runners. Their energy pushes me along and I catch glimpses of my watch registering in the 7:30 range on the downhills. We enter into the town of Brookline, the final before Boston. Lined with brownstone buildings and the Boston skyline up ahead, I feel my own excitement building despite the mounting fatigue. I spot Santa Claus somewhere in this area but I'm tired enough to question whether he's a mirage or real. Ahh, story of our childhood, right?
Mile 24: 7:59
The cruel, cruel, dip under a bridge in mile 25 practically knocks the wind out of me. Even though my inhaler has been tucked in my glove the whole race, I haven't thought about using it until this little hill. I hate how tiny little rollers become mountains this late in a marathon and laugh to myself about how ridiculous it is that I'm struggling on something this small.
There's another tiny uphill as we pass over the highway next to Fenway Park. My calves finally seize up completely and beg me to stop. I shorten my stride and will them to keep going. I notice myself reaching that dizzy bonk line as my vision begins to blur. I pull back on the pace to keep from heading to that dark, dangerous place I've found a few too many times at the end of a marathon.
Mile 25: 8:19
"ONE MILE TO GO!!!" is painted in a great blue and yellow stripe across the roadway. FINALLY! Back on the streets of Boston, I mentally chart out the remainder of the course. Other than a tiny uphill on Hereford, it's smooth sailing from here. Since I've had too many mile 25 meltdowns, I don't begin calculating a possible finish time in my head until I turn the corner and pass the mile 26 sign, the finish line now in sight.
Mile 26: 8:27
Just two minutes left, tops! I tell myself. Left, right. Left, right. C'mon legs! As I approach that golden finish stripe on the road and the timing mats, I peel back my soggy warmup sweater in the hopes of having at least one finishing shot with my bib number visible.
Mile 26-26.2.: 1:51
I cross the final timing mat feeling strong, proud, and suddenly really EFFIN' COLD.
3:30:26
8:01/mi.
I don't even realize what has just happened, all I can focus on is getting warm again. My cramped calves force my walk to a hobble as I walk alongside my Newton Hills buddy. We hug and thank each other for the help and motivation. We part ways as we wait for finish line volunteers to wrap us up like little foil burritos.
My body shivers uncontrollably as volunteers place a medal around my neck and usher me on down the line. I'm handed a bag of food and finally, FINALLY, a lovely deluxe foil blanket, complete with hood and velcro closures. Every volunteer beyond the finish line is amazing. Someone helps me find the arm holes on my new superhero cape, I see others peeling bananas for people---all of them with genuine smiles despite being as cold and soggy as we all are. I grab a cup of coffee, stylish foil skirt for when the wind kicks up, and head for home.
It isn't until the mile long stumble back to the hotel that I can begin to process the race. After years of hearing about how it's hard, almost foolish, to go for a PR on the Boston course, I couldn't believe that I not only requalified, but actually ran a PR there myself, dropping 59 seconds from my previous one. I would later learn that five out of the seven Humboldt County runners ran new PRs, so there's something about our local climate and topography that helped us run strong in these particular conditions.
Matt dueled it out with another local runner, Kenny, over the last 10K. Both came away with new PRs, Matt edging him out by 20 seconds for the win. Despite some early season Achilles tendon issues, he dropped about 40 seconds from his PR to finish in 2:47:36.
-----
As for our first half split competition, I ended up winning. I was two seconds slower than goal time, Matt was three. He ran the most even paced marathon of his life, with just one minute positive split. Mine was more like 5 minutes. Given the hillier second half, both were pretty good.
Thank you for all your support through this process. I thought about each and every one of you following along as I crossed each timing mat. :)
 |
| With bloggers Chris, Bryon, and Carlos (Source) |
Soon it's my turn. FINALLY. I'm so excited, not for the race, but about the idea of becoming warm again. We're shuttled to the corrals, a sea of pajama-clad adults headed to a group slumber party. En route, volunteers are collecting discarded warmup clothes. Since there's no bag check at the start line, everything discarded will be donated to charity. I secretly wish I could dig through the discarded clothing and update my personal wardrobe. Apparently I wasn't the only one because several women stopped and asked for a sweater, jumping up and down happily when they found something in their size. I pull off my sweatpants as I squeeze into my assigned corral. Just as I consideer dumping off my fuzzy chenile sweater, it begins to rain. Then I make the decision that likely ended up saving my race: I keep the sweater on with plans to drop it later. (Spoiler alert: I've still got it.)
The race begins with a starting gun. Tears begin immediately. I can't believe I've made it to this place. Years of hard work, shortcomings, and triumphs--I'm actually running the Boston Marathon!!! Before I can become too much of a wheezing, sniffly mess, I calm myself down as I high five a long string of children lining the road. I spot an older man ahead of me wearing the shirt from a ski race in my hometown. I chat with him a few minutes as the pack spreads out and wish him good luck before I pull off ahead.
Mile 1: 8:05
Mile 2: 7:37
Mile 3: 7:37
I pay little attention to my watch other than to record the mile splits. I notice that even with the downhill, I need to control my speed and begin focusing on running slower. A few days before the race, Matt and I made a competiton: Who could run closest to the goal pace at the halfway mark. I may never beat him at a race, but this is definitely a competition I wanted to win. Besides, I knew my legs would thank me later for the conservative start.
Bargoers on the porch of a local tavern raise glasses and cheer as we pass, but otherwise the trip through Ashland is fairly quiet.
Mile 4: 7:45
Mile 5: 7:51 (Shot Bloks x2)
Mile 6: 7:45
Even with two pairs of gloves on my hands (never ditched the warmup gloves either), I find it increasingly difficult to use my fingers. By mile four, I'm already completely soaked and the black fuzzies from my shirt are beginning to collect on the white gloves I use for yardwork and to bring firewood in the house. Two girls wearing team jerseys from my alma mater run by. I quicken my stride to catch up and chat with them, telling them I'm an alum of the very same state college. They tell me they graduate in two weeks and I drop back to my own pace as we wish each other good luck.
Mile 7: 7:45
Mile 8: 8:00 (salt tab)
Mile 9: 7:52
Every few miles, we pass into another town. Each one feels more like a city and I can sense Boston growing nearer. By mile 10, we're running through Natick and as I crest one of the small rolling uphills, I notice that I've lost feeling in my butt. It's gone numb. It will stay that way through the remainder of the race. Frozen legs don't ache as badly, so no complaints here.
We continue on and by 11 miles in I notice an increasing soreness in my right arm from at least two hundred high fives. When I finally hit Wellesley, the spectators are more aggressive with their high fives and I accept fewer as I shake the stinging burn out of my palm.
Mile 10: 7:54
Mile 11: 8:02
Mile 12: 7:54 (Shot Bloks x3)
Mile 13: 8:00
I reach the halfway clock in 1:43:01 (7:51/mi.). Overall my pace feels strong and even. Since each mile marker is also an aid station, I've worked it out in my head to stop at every other one and find myself in a rhythm even with the water stops. (It's cool how you can see those stops in my mile splits, they're in the odd numbered miles.)
Mile 14: 7:52
Mile 15: 8:03 (salt tab)
Mile 16: 7:57
The roadside crowds grow larger with each passing mile and by the time I reach the famed Newton Hills, I can barely hear the sound of my shoes slapping through the puddles. The first hill I actually notice at all is at mile 17 and on the climb out of Lower Creek Falls. My legs protest the sudden change in elevation as I grind to find their uphill gears.
Mile 17: 8:11
Mile 18: 8:22 (Gu)
Mile 19: 8:05
As if part of some cruel cosmic joke, the wind picks up just in time for the most difficult spot on the course. I tuck in behind a very tall man in a neon green shirt. We trade the lead through the crest of Heartbreak Hill at mile 21. Even though I can tell by my footfalls that I'm slowing, we begin passing people as if they're standing still, including those two super-intimidating college runner girls I talked with miles earlier. Some people up ahead have even begun walking. I spend the next few miles thinking about how my hilly training runs in the wind and rain were good preparation for this race. Yay, soggy Humboldt County!
Mile 20: 8:14
Mile 21: 8:35 (Gu + salt tab)
I breathe a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad! From here, the hills are over and the course dips downhill. I pull up behind not one, but two women who have literally been having a shitty race and make it my goal to pass them, just because I'm uncomfortable with the fact that I just can't help but stare in horror at their soiled shorts. I wish I had the ability to dig THAT deep. By now, my hands are so frozen that they have become useless. After pulling to the side for the third time in the race (again fighting with those bags containing my salt tabs), I vow to drink my calories until the end. No point in letting it suck up any more time.
Mile 22: 7:57
Mile 23: 8:16
By the time I reach Boston College, the course is packed with drunk college kids that give spirited high fives and are literally screaming at runners. Their energy pushes me along and I catch glimpses of my watch registering in the 7:30 range on the downhills. We enter into the town of Brookline, the final before Boston. Lined with brownstone buildings and the Boston skyline up ahead, I feel my own excitement building despite the mounting fatigue. I spot Santa Claus somewhere in this area but I'm tired enough to question whether he's a mirage or real. Ahh, story of our childhood, right?
Mile 24: 7:59
The cruel, cruel, dip under a bridge in mile 25 practically knocks the wind out of me. Even though my inhaler has been tucked in my glove the whole race, I haven't thought about using it until this little hill. I hate how tiny little rollers become mountains this late in a marathon and laugh to myself about how ridiculous it is that I'm struggling on something this small.
There's another tiny uphill as we pass over the highway next to Fenway Park. My calves finally seize up completely and beg me to stop. I shorten my stride and will them to keep going. I notice myself reaching that dizzy bonk line as my vision begins to blur. I pull back on the pace to keep from heading to that dark, dangerous place I've found a few too many times at the end of a marathon.
Mile 25: 8:19
"ONE MILE TO GO!!!" is painted in a great blue and yellow stripe across the roadway. FINALLY! Back on the streets of Boston, I mentally chart out the remainder of the course. Other than a tiny uphill on Hereford, it's smooth sailing from here. Since I've had too many mile 25 meltdowns, I don't begin calculating a possible finish time in my head until I turn the corner and pass the mile 26 sign, the finish line now in sight.
 |
| Taken on Saturday afternoon. |
Just two minutes left, tops! I tell myself. Left, right. Left, right. C'mon legs! As I approach that golden finish stripe on the road and the timing mats, I peel back my soggy warmup sweater in the hopes of having at least one finishing shot with my bib number visible.
Mile 26-26.2.: 1:51
I cross the final timing mat feeling strong, proud, and suddenly really EFFIN' COLD.
3:30:26
8:01/mi.
I don't even realize what has just happened, all I can focus on is getting warm again. My cramped calves force my walk to a hobble as I walk alongside my Newton Hills buddy. We hug and thank each other for the help and motivation. We part ways as we wait for finish line volunteers to wrap us up like little foil burritos.
My body shivers uncontrollably as volunteers place a medal around my neck and usher me on down the line. I'm handed a bag of food and finally, FINALLY, a lovely deluxe foil blanket, complete with hood and velcro closures. Every volunteer beyond the finish line is amazing. Someone helps me find the arm holes on my new superhero cape, I see others peeling bananas for people---all of them with genuine smiles despite being as cold and soggy as we all are. I grab a cup of coffee, stylish foil skirt for when the wind kicks up, and head for home.
It isn't until the mile long stumble back to the hotel that I can begin to process the race. After years of hearing about how it's hard, almost foolish, to go for a PR on the Boston course, I couldn't believe that I not only requalified, but actually ran a PR there myself, dropping 59 seconds from my previous one. I would later learn that five out of the seven Humboldt County runners ran new PRs, so there's something about our local climate and topography that helped us run strong in these particular conditions.
Matt dueled it out with another local runner, Kenny, over the last 10K. Both came away with new PRs, Matt edging him out by 20 seconds for the win. Despite some early season Achilles tendon issues, he dropped about 40 seconds from his PR to finish in 2:47:36.
-----
As for our first half split competition, I ended up winning. I was two seconds slower than goal time, Matt was three. He ran the most even paced marathon of his life, with just one minute positive split. Mine was more like 5 minutes. Given the hillier second half, both were pretty good.
Thank you for all your support through this process. I thought about each and every one of you following along as I crossed each timing mat. :)
Friday, April 17, 2015
The Taper and Boston Goals
Instead of including weekly mileage recaps as I taper to race day, I decided to do a more cohesive summary with all three weeks. I had originally planned on a two week taper, but my allergies peaked too and I found myself really needing a little extra taper, so technically it was about 2.5 weeks long.
Week 1: 58.5 miles, 34 kitties.
Notable Workouts:
Run 12 miles, 11@ MRP (Goal: 7:49/mi., Actual: 7:44/mi.)
Longest
marathon pace run of the season! I timed this one well with an overnight
rain. Had I run this the day before, it would have sucked a lot. I woke up
feeling pretty crummy, but my breathing was better and since I whacked my head really hard on the car door the night before and it hurt a lot, my sinuses are no longer noticeable.
I didn’t look at my watch, but had a few moments where I could tell by
my cadence that I was going too fast, so I pulled back. I love how I no
longer have to feel good in order to hit this pace, it comes even on the
days I feel off. My personal photographer came along for the run too.
Run 16 miles, 2:16, 8:30/mi.
Fast finish long run. Last three miles: 8:12, 8:04, 7:34. That last one is my fastest end to any long run. The whole run felt strong. Love love love.
Week 2: 38.75 miles (+ 3 hike miles), 35 kitties.
Notable Workouts:
Run 6.75 miles including 6x880yds.
Two inches of rain the day before (you're seeing this theme right?) practically eliminated my allergy and asthma symptoms and I FLEW. I knew I was having a good day, possibly a 880 yd PR day, so I had Matt pace me through the last part of my final one and boom, 3:13, a new PR by five seconds!! If I could be so bold, I’d like to ask for it to rain the night before the Boston Marathon so I can feel strong just like this. :)
Run 6 mi, 5@7:44/mi.
Another solid, "day after the rain" run.
Hike 3 miles, not timed.
A morning hike on the Lost Coast. I should start every day with a hike, I floated for the rest of the day on the high it gave me.
Long Run/Race Combo: Arcata Forest 5.5 Mile Run.
Unexpectedly good day. I was surprised to run just 30 seconds slow of my PR on a day I had to hold back a little. :) I love hilly trails.
Week 3: 12 miles, 19 kitties (so far)
Notable Workouts:
Only running short stuff this week and it all feels so light and easy. Phantom pains are setting in. What's up with my shin? How come my IT Band is angry? My body is whining from lack of use. Don't worry legs, you'll get your wish. Ohhhh just wait. I'll probably take a rest day Friday (jet lag is a jerk), 2-3 on Saturday, and then maybe a shakeout on Sunday if I have time.
Let's talk about Boston goals instead of my 3 mile runs. My goal: run a strong race and finish with a positive Boston Marathon experience. Of course I've got a racing plan, but that's secondary to my main goal. Would I love to meet the time goal too? Sure. I'm shooting for 3:25-3:30 and think I'm strong enough to land somewhere in there on a good day, but just finishing this race will be an honor in itself.
Week 1: 58.5 miles, 34 kitties.
Notable Workouts:
Run 12 miles, 11@ MRP (Goal: 7:49/mi., Actual: 7:44/mi.)
 |
| Official Boston Marathon outfit. |
 |
| Running selfie! |
Run 16 miles, 2:16, 8:30/mi.
Fast finish long run. Last three miles: 8:12, 8:04, 7:34. That last one is my fastest end to any long run. The whole run felt strong. Love love love.
Week 2: 38.75 miles (+ 3 hike miles), 35 kitties.
Notable Workouts:
Run 6.75 miles including 6x880yds.
Two inches of rain the day before (you're seeing this theme right?) practically eliminated my allergy and asthma symptoms and I FLEW. I knew I was having a good day, possibly a 880 yd PR day, so I had Matt pace me through the last part of my final one and boom, 3:13, a new PR by five seconds!! If I could be so bold, I’d like to ask for it to rain the night before the Boston Marathon so I can feel strong just like this. :)
Run 6 mi, 5@7:44/mi.
Hike 3 miles, not timed.
A morning hike on the Lost Coast. I should start every day with a hike, I floated for the rest of the day on the high it gave me.
Long Run/Race Combo: Arcata Forest 5.5 Mile Run.
Week 3: 12 miles, 19 kitties (so far)
Notable Workouts:
Only running short stuff this week and it all feels so light and easy. Phantom pains are setting in. What's up with my shin? How come my IT Band is angry? My body is whining from lack of use. Don't worry legs, you'll get your wish. Ohhhh just wait. I'll probably take a rest day Friday (jet lag is a jerk), 2-3 on Saturday, and then maybe a shakeout on Sunday if I have time.
Let's talk about Boston goals instead of my 3 mile runs. My goal: run a strong race and finish with a positive Boston Marathon experience. Of course I've got a racing plan, but that's secondary to my main goal. Would I love to meet the time goal too? Sure. I'm shooting for 3:25-3:30 and think I'm strong enough to land somewhere in there on a good day, but just finishing this race will be an honor in itself.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Arcata Forest 5.5 Mile Race Report
Race morning dawned, tranquil and refreshing, as I sipped my morning coffee. I packed the remaining supplies at home: finish line cookies, my running clothes for sweeping the course, and a bottle of water. After a quick stop at the shed to gather race equipment, Paul and I quietly set up tents and the registration table. Dressed in my cute boots and flannel, poised for a morning of volunteering and spectating, I had no intention of racing. As runners and more volunteers began to filter in, I noticed that my help wasn't truly necessary.
Then Tanya asked if I was going to race. I said I didn't want to fall down and hurt myself a week before Boston. "You don't have to race. Just run it for the experience, the energy--you don't have to go all out," she went on. After confirming with Matt, the race director, that I wasn't needed and he didn't want to run ten miles with me later in the day, I made my decision. While Matt signed me in and grabbed me a bib number, I dashed off to the bathroom to change. Without a real warmup, jitters, or a pair of running socks, I found myself toeing the line unsure what was going to happen. After spending the morning telling people that I wasn't going to race, they all laughed at me a little bit. "I knew you couldn't stay away," Nikki said as she squeezed in next to me.
In a swirling cloud of neon fabrics, we were off. As if the first climb wasn't brutal enough on its own, rising almost 400 ft. in the first mile, it was almost torturous without a warmup. Without needing much convincing, I slowed down to lower the effort level. Sometimes this meant a walk. Soon I found myself side by side with Karl, a tall lanky runner whose walking stride was actually quicker than my uphill running one. I followed along, keeping pace with him for the better part of two miles.
Mile 1: 10:02
Just as I truly believed my legs were going to collapse beneath me, the climbing ceased and I rocketed downhill. Finally. A chance to get that warmup. One thing that convinced me to run the race this morning was the course. For every brutally steep climb, a delicious downhill singletrack awaits. It's like climbing the stairs on a playground slide and then a gentle cruise down--over and over again. I smiled as I floated around small redwood trees and into a ravine.
Mile 2: 8:27
Mile 3 was entirely uphill but it climbed gently enough that I don't allow myself to walk. Atop the hill I could see Gayle in her bright yellow cycling jacket. She's got the water, you can walk when you get your cup of water, I coached myself. I thanked her for the water and motivation and kicked off downhill again. Except for Karl, who was about 20 seconds ahead, I was running in a bubble of loneliness with nobody else in sight.
Mile 3: 10:17
I'd finally caught up to Karl and a few other runners. Finally! I was overjoyed to have someone else to hang out with me. After all, that's a big part of the reason I was running this race in the first place. The course steeply rises and falls as it weaves through the forest. Even though this park is overly used and a worn out version of what most redwood forests look like, it has some healthier sections that are beautiful.
I grabbed a cup of water from Bob and he asked if I was hungry for more hills. He's my racing buddy for most distances but always chooses to volunteer at this race, probably so he can sit there, smug with his calm, resting heart rate, teasing runners just before the worst hill of the course. I turn the corner and there it is: a steep wall of dirt that rises so swiftly into the trees that I can't see much beyond the next 100 ft. ahead of me. Even though I know it's coming, it always makes me groan just a little bit.
Everyone up ahead on the hill was walking through the loose pebbly gravel. I broke into my best power walk and began closing the gap. Up ahead was Nicolette. She'd been just out of reach for the past couple of miles, so I made it my mission to stay with her. It has started raining, but it was only noticeable passing through breaks in the forest canopy.
Mile 4: 10:08
The cone signaling the 4th mile is always my favorite. From here, it's almost all downhill. Time to shred the legs. Excitedly, I felt my pace increase, my stride lengthen, and my quads wincing slightly in discomfort. Every footfall, I reminded myself that Boston is just one week away. It's not worth falling to try and catch anyone. I ease up a little, just enough to maintain my footing at a hard effort. I could use some more downhill running practice in my life because slowing feels awkward and uncomfortable.
Mile 5: 7:43
One more dash through a lower ravine, a short uphill and it's back to the playground. Knowing I'm in the last half mile, I pass three guys in my acceleration to the end. Back on solid footing of the access road, I break into a kick. I gain ground quickly on Nicolette until she realized I'm behind. Jack, Paul, and Matt cheer from the finish line, these guys love a good duel for the end. The last fifty feet into the chute were downhill and I got close enough to be running right on her shoulder, but the finish line came too soon and she finished ahead of me. Oh well.
Mile 5-5.5: 3:59
49:37
8:57/mi.
1,006 ft. gain
After the race, I shifted right back into volunteer mode, helping Matt with award and keeping the cookie supply up. Since I know a few of my running friends have sensitive stomachs, I even made a batch of gluten-free cookies. I always get a lot of compliments on my finish line cookies and the club regulars have come to know that Matt's and my race always have homemade cookies. :)
Top runners received the following as an award this year. This gave me a little practice for the finisher awards I'm making for my race. It will be a lot of work, but I think it's worth it. They're pretty.
After the race, I headed out to pick up the flags and cones from the trail. A man out walking his dog said as he passed, "So YOU'RE the one with all the flags."
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| Y. Kim, SRRC photo credit. |
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| Y. Kim, SRRC photo credit. |
Mile 1: 10:02
Just as I truly believed my legs were going to collapse beneath me, the climbing ceased and I rocketed downhill. Finally. A chance to get that warmup. One thing that convinced me to run the race this morning was the course. For every brutally steep climb, a delicious downhill singletrack awaits. It's like climbing the stairs on a playground slide and then a gentle cruise down--over and over again. I smiled as I floated around small redwood trees and into a ravine.
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| Mile 2, on an earlier visit with Matt and Jorge |
Mile 2: 8:27
Mile 3 was entirely uphill but it climbed gently enough that I don't allow myself to walk. Atop the hill I could see Gayle in her bright yellow cycling jacket. She's got the water, you can walk when you get your cup of water, I coached myself. I thanked her for the water and motivation and kicked off downhill again. Except for Karl, who was about 20 seconds ahead, I was running in a bubble of loneliness with nobody else in sight.
Mile 3: 10:17
I'd finally caught up to Karl and a few other runners. Finally! I was overjoyed to have someone else to hang out with me. After all, that's a big part of the reason I was running this race in the first place. The course steeply rises and falls as it weaves through the forest. Even though this park is overly used and a worn out version of what most redwood forests look like, it has some healthier sections that are beautiful.
I grabbed a cup of water from Bob and he asked if I was hungry for more hills. He's my racing buddy for most distances but always chooses to volunteer at this race, probably so he can sit there, smug with his calm, resting heart rate, teasing runners just before the worst hill of the course. I turn the corner and there it is: a steep wall of dirt that rises so swiftly into the trees that I can't see much beyond the next 100 ft. ahead of me. Even though I know it's coming, it always makes me groan just a little bit.
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| See that little steep spot before mile 4? 120' gain in less than 0.15 mi. |
Mile 4: 10:08
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| Mile 4, again with Matt and Jorge. |
Mile 5: 7:43
One more dash through a lower ravine, a short uphill and it's back to the playground. Knowing I'm in the last half mile, I pass three guys in my acceleration to the end. Back on solid footing of the access road, I break into a kick. I gain ground quickly on Nicolette until she realized I'm behind. Jack, Paul, and Matt cheer from the finish line, these guys love a good duel for the end. The last fifty feet into the chute were downhill and I got close enough to be running right on her shoulder, but the finish line came too soon and she finished ahead of me. Oh well.
Mile 5-5.5: 3:59
 |
| Y. Kim, SRRC photo credit. |
49:37
8:57/mi.
1,006 ft. gain
After the race, I shifted right back into volunteer mode, helping Matt with award and keeping the cookie supply up. Since I know a few of my running friends have sensitive stomachs, I even made a batch of gluten-free cookies. I always get a lot of compliments on my finish line cookies and the club regulars have come to know that Matt's and my race always have homemade cookies. :)
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| "What makes you say that?" |
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Micro-Adventures: Taking Advantage of My Local Area
Jagged, snow-capped mountain peaks, lush valleys stuffed with giant redwoods, and pristine coastline, my local area offers no shortage of beautiful places to visit. Each micro-climate blends into the next and sometimes it's like I'm living inside of one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books that I read as a kid just to see where the adventure would take me.
This week's further reduction in running mileage offered me the time and opportunity to explore a few of our local treasures.
Horse Mountain
Wednesday, Matt and I spent the afternoon with Ryan and Shaina and their two pups on Horse Mountain, the nearest peak that gets winter snow. Thanks to a cold storm, her summit at just below 5,000 ft. was snowy for the first time this year.
As we climbed an old logging road, views of the Marble Mountains and Trinity Alps appeared, also freshly painted in a coat of shimmering white.
Although the snow arrive too little, too late to impact the upcoming fire season, it sure was nice to slog around in my snowshoes for a few hours.
Fleener Creek
As I ate breakfast on a gorgeous, sunny Friday morning, I came across one of those beautiful photos people re-pin over and over again on Pinterest. One that makes your heart ache to be soaked in the scenery, I admit I ooh and aah just as much as the next person. But this particular photo I recognized as my local area, part of a century bike race that traces a loop through some of the most rugged and beautiful roads in my local area. It reminded me that I live in one of those places people dream about visiting. I could experience this every day. Why was I not out there right now?
Without a whisper of wind caressing the hillside, I made the descent down to my favorite beach. Matt was at home sleeping off a midnight shift and I was pleasantly surprised by how much more easily I could connect with nature by going solo. The hillside across the creek, lined with grazing beef cattle mooed occasionally, and I dodged a dozen garter snakes, but otherwise I was alone.
Drifting into my own thoughts and snapping photos as I went, I thought about when I bought this camera lens. The man at the store very carefully instructed me not to take it to the beach. "The salty air will ruin your lens," he said. What good is a camera if I can only shoot indoors? It's like buying a pair of expensive hiking boots and not using them for fear of them wearing out. I'm not particularly hard on my gear, but I take a small bit of joy in seeing the visible wear on my possessions, it's an indication that they're well-loved.
I shot a few photos of the jagged coastline, imagining every cliff and smooth surface beyond the one currently in view. This area marks the northernmost edge of the most pristine section of the California coastline.
I've visited various places along the aptly named Lost Coast and am mesmerized by the fact that a place so wild still exists. There are few places in the Lower 48 that possess this degree of solitude. If perfect weather like this were a daily occurrence, I'm sure this would soon not be the case.
I wanted to continue south forever, warm sand sifting through my toes as I walked. Soon I turned back, chores at home calling to me. But for three blissful hours, it was me and my favorite beach.
Arcata Forest Run
A few years ago, Matt inherited our running club's other trail race. It's the perfect timing and distance to be a warmup run for my June race. Together, we've developed a pretty efficient system of marking the course and general race operations. While talking with Tanya at the registration table, I told her I didn't think I wanted to race, she reminded me that I didn't have to race and could just run it for fun. Then Matt mentioned he didn't want to run 10 miles with me after the race. Instead of going solo later that day, I made a last-minute decision to run the race. Without a warmup or a pair of socks, I found myself pinning on a bib number and blending into the crowd with everyone else.
Matt's race course is really tough, 1,000 ft. of climbing over just 5.5 miles, but it's organized in a way that it's a pure joy to run, climbing steeply, and descending over gorgeous twisting singletrack that I want to run all day long like a little girl going down the slide until her legs can no longer climb the stairs.
I played Follow the Leader with Nicolette for most of the race, pushing only as fast as my legs would let me while staying in total control. After all, the reason I had decided against this race in the first place was the increased likelihood of hurting myself a week before Boston. Even though we were rained on, I thoroughly enjoyed my impulsive decision to run the race.
Then I helped clean up the course after the race was over. Everyone loved my cookies and that it didn't rain too much during the run.
What about your local area is unique? Do you spend enough time taking advantage of its natural beauty?
I admit, I definitely neglect it during road running season even though I more than make up for it during the trail seasons. Someday I'll figure out on blending the two together more so I can enjoy it year round rather than in two three month blocks of nature binges.
This week's further reduction in running mileage offered me the time and opportunity to explore a few of our local treasures.
Horse Mountain
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| Matt with his new trail buddies. |
Fleener Creek
As I ate breakfast on a gorgeous, sunny Friday morning, I came across one of those beautiful photos people re-pin over and over again on Pinterest. One that makes your heart ache to be soaked in the scenery, I admit I ooh and aah just as much as the next person. But this particular photo I recognized as my local area, part of a century bike race that traces a loop through some of the most rugged and beautiful roads in my local area. It reminded me that I live in one of those places people dream about visiting. I could experience this every day. Why was I not out there right now?
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| Happy cows live in Humboldt. |
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| Wild Iris |
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| Fleener Creek meets the ocean. |
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| My Chacos love going to the beach. |
Arcata Forest Run
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| "Don't go down the trails marked with an 'X'". SRRC photo credit. |
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| All smiles chatting with Nikki and Jen before the race. SRRC photo credit. |
A few years ago, Matt inherited our running club's other trail race. It's the perfect timing and distance to be a warmup run for my June race. Together, we've developed a pretty efficient system of marking the course and general race operations. While talking with Tanya at the registration table, I told her I didn't think I wanted to race, she reminded me that I didn't have to race and could just run it for fun. Then Matt mentioned he didn't want to run 10 miles with me after the race. Instead of going solo later that day, I made a last-minute decision to run the race. Without a warmup or a pair of socks, I found myself pinning on a bib number and blending into the crowd with everyone else.
 |
| SRRC photo credit. |
What about your local area is unique? Do you spend enough time taking advantage of its natural beauty?
I admit, I definitely neglect it during road running season even though I more than make up for it during the trail seasons. Someday I'll figure out on blending the two together more so I can enjoy it year round rather than in two three month blocks of nature binges.
Thursday, April 09, 2015
Looking at the Numbers
The taper arrives. A wave of relief washes over me as I am finally able to rest. The first week is filled with chores I had been neglecting all season, whether for lack of time or energy. I'm glad to not be running as much.
The second week is my least favorite. With reduced mileage, my legs feel fresh again, but the memories of training have already started to fade. I try to recall my best workouts and my worst in an attempt to understand how everything went, but it all blurs together like trying to read a book without my glasses on. Dang. Maybe the reason I can't remember is because I didn't do enough? Eek! I need reassurance.
This is when I turn to my training log. Since the overall mileage tells nothing of the intensity level, I move from my paper log to my Garmin stats which are much more detailed in terms of pace, elevation, and time.
Weekly Mileage:
Since these numbers don't include hiking, schlepping a backpack up a snowy mountainside, and mini tapers for races, it seems like I'm all over the place with not enough mileage. But as I pore over my log and stats, I begin to recall each week and how it felt. I definitely got enough time on my feet and almost all of those weeks included a speed and marathon pace workout each.
Marathon Pace Runs:
If I had to pick the most telling workout in my training week, it would be the marathon pace run. If I can feel confident and comfortable with this run each week, I know my training is on track. Most of these runs appear slower than they are because the times included the warmup (if I took one) and cooldown miles, but it would take too much effort to extrapolate the pace portion, so I included my fastest and slowest miles for a better idea. Regardless, I know each of these felt strong and as I neared the peak week, I forced myself to slow down a little to nail the pace and build confidence. One thing to note is that I don't stop for fuel on these runs as they're too short to need anything. I think that is why even my best marathon day is a few seconds per mile slower than where I train. I walk through aid stations, often taking two cups of fluid at each. I've learned that those extra few seconds spent early on stave off a major dehydration bonk later on.
Long Runs:
Ah, the second most important feature of any good marathon training plan. Personally, I love long runs. I always take my long runs at an easy, conversational pace and it feels more like an adventure than a workout. I love how
each subsequent run's pace lowers just a second or two. Everybody talks about the hills at Boston, and I admit, I got a little freaked out. I included the elevation gain for each run to show myself that the 783 feet of gain over 26 miles in Boston might even feel flatter than my twenty or twenty-one mile runs at home.
The third week of the taper, when I decide to take one, is my favorite. After further reducing my mileage, every run feels incredible. What started out as an abstract idea a few months ago finally begins to feel real. I plan out the logistics of the race, my fueling, outfit, and begin visualizing the challenges of race day. By the end of the week, I feel like a sled dog leaping about excitedly, waiting for the snow hook to be pulled from the ground. This year, I'm sure this feeling will be magnified because I haven't only been working a few months toward this goal, it has taken years of hard work, dedication, and finesse to make it to this point.
11 days.
The second week is my least favorite. With reduced mileage, my legs feel fresh again, but the memories of training have already started to fade. I try to recall my best workouts and my worst in an attempt to understand how everything went, but it all blurs together like trying to read a book without my glasses on. Dang. Maybe the reason I can't remember is because I didn't do enough? Eek! I need reassurance.
This is when I turn to my training log. Since the overall mileage tells nothing of the intensity level, I move from my paper log to my Garmin stats which are much more detailed in terms of pace, elevation, and time.
Weekly Mileage:
Marathon Pace Runs:
Long Runs:
The third week of the taper, when I decide to take one, is my favorite. After further reducing my mileage, every run feels incredible. What started out as an abstract idea a few months ago finally begins to feel real. I plan out the logistics of the race, my fueling, outfit, and begin visualizing the challenges of race day. By the end of the week, I feel like a sled dog leaping about excitedly, waiting for the snow hook to be pulled from the ground. This year, I'm sure this feeling will be magnified because I haven't only been working a few months toward this goal, it has taken years of hard work, dedication, and finesse to make it to this point.
11 days.
Sunday, April 05, 2015
Life Lately
As the days grow longer, I find myself emerging from my wintertime hibernation, both physically and emotionally. Even though my allergies continue to limit my energy level, I can feel seasonal depression lifting. Springtime is also one of the busiest times of my year.
Excitement and organizational duties for my early summer trail race increase. If I'm not actively planning something for race day, I'm thinking about it. Currently, I'm working on developing a finish award that I'm sure everyone will love. Until then, I'm hanging out with my power sander and drill.
After six months earning their keep in sheer entertainment value, my hens have finally begun laying eggs. On average, I get three eggs a day from four hens. Each chicken lays a slightly different color egg and it has been fun sleuthing around trying to figure out who lays what. This week, perhaps in the spirit of Easter, they finally helped me match each chicken with her own egg.
Matt spent a few days in the garden removing some weeds and prepping it for spring planting. While digging around in one of the beds, he noticed the strong, sweet smell of carrot. Sure enough, half a dozen of the seeds that didn't grow last year had produced some surprise carrots!
He also found some delicious new potatoes and we wasted no time cooking them up into a stir fry that night.
Instead of knitting more small projects, I decided to create my first sweater. It doesn't look like much now, but the pattern promises that it will become a cardigan. Light sweaters like this are perfect for this climate as it never really moves out of the 50-60F range, so I'm sure it will be seeing a lot of use even if I finish it in July.
I'm still trying to muster up excitement for the Boston Marathon. I'm not sure if it's because I feel like I should be more excited than usual and am not or if it's because marathon training has become ordinary and something I just do, but it still lacks the sparkle that I would have otherwise expected. I'm hoping that the excitement will show up once I finally land in Boston and explore the city for a few days before the race. Until then, I'll stare at the jacket I ordered. A friend hooked me up with a coupon and I realized it would be cheaper to buy online rather than at the expo, so I did it. While not everyone loves the color, I am completely smitten. In fact, it almost exactly matches the running jacket I already have. I tried it on to be sure it fits and then folded it back into the package. It won't be worn again until after I cross the finish line, because I'm superstitious like that.
The band was invited to play in our local jazz music festival. Performers come from all over the West Coast to join. As a perk of being one of those performers, I was able to attend the entire festival for free. I took in a couple of phenomenal groups throughout the weekend and loved every minute of it. I need to seek out more musical opportunities like this one, even if I have to pay to go.
The following Friday, we went on our annual school tour. We performed for three elementary and middle schools. Between Spongebob Squarepants and Stars and Stripes Forever, I'm not sure who enjoyed the performance more: us or the kids. This is one of my favorite gigs all year and even though it was in the middle of a long weekend we could have traveled out of town, I made sure we stuck around.
What have you been up to lately?
Instead of knitting more small projects, I decided to create my first sweater. It doesn't look like much now, but the pattern promises that it will become a cardigan. Light sweaters like this are perfect for this climate as it never really moves out of the 50-60F range, so I'm sure it will be seeing a lot of use even if I finish it in July.
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| S. Porter photo credit. |
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| S. Porter photo credit. |
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