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Tune in Today

Three stops on my training journey (thus far)

July 22, 2015

UPDATE: Tune in today to see if she can … run a half marathon.

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Basically, to bring you up to speed, I have none. (See what I did there?) But there have been a few exciting developments in regard to my running game.

No. 1, I found my stride soulmate. Much like you, I had my doubts. The crop of athletes out there who choose to bounce up and down rather than out and forward is slim, but somehow I unearthed a gal who treads as turtle-ish as I do. She sweats like a long-lost sister and does the dance between self-deprecating pessimism and desperate optimism with the mastery of Misty Copeland. When the piggies meet the pavement, we are a match made in heaven. Not to mention, she’s just a pretty stellar individual and fascinating creature. (She only eats smooth peanut butter on hamburger or hotdog buns, Kraft macaroni and cheese, plantain chips, and romaine lettuce with cheddar cheese and French dressing. That’s her diet. Always. Every day. She carries French dressing in her purse, you guys. I can’t make this stuff up.)

No. 2, I have confirmed the universal hypothesis that the farther you go, the harder it is. Let me repeat: It is very true that running far is brutal, self-inflicted punishment for a false sense of confidence that you embraced somewhere in your past. Sure, the goal seemed super sexy when it was you, a bunch of quotes on Pinterest and a pair of tight trousers. But now, 2 1/2 weeks in, it feels more like the definition of insanity. You keep lacing up and checking off the boxes of your training plan, because Hal said so, only to feel like you got jumped in a back alley by a bunch of no-good goons with billy clubs. And then you go back to the friggin alley three times a week! What kind of person does that? An insane one. And the whole “runner’s high” phenomenon … I can only assume I’m still stuck in the “jogger’s low” but the good stuff is coming.

No. 3, Running is a serious mind f*@k. (Excuse my language, but the symbols softened the blow, Mom.) Yesterday, I ran 5 miles. Seems like nothing when I think of the folks out there logging 100-mile mudders threw jungles and mountain tops, but still, it was the farthest I have ever run. I had my afternoon snacks all planned out, then meetings ran over. I had my clothes situated, but I lost my lightweight sunglasses. And then, the worst thing happened. Technology failed me. [gasp!] My Runkeeper app announced we were at 4.56 miles just 14 minutes into the run. Either our asses were on fire, or the tool was jacked up. The realization that we wouldn’t be getting those mile-by-mile updates from our prerecorded female companion was a devastating blow to morale. By mile 3 (we guessed), the sun was relentless and urging us to lay down on someone’s lawn for a nice long vomit and snotty sob. I had to walk for a minute. Even though it was just 12 minutes more, just 3.4 more songs from the playlist, just 1 extra loop, it was enough to psych me out. There’s no arguing with the physical demands of running, but it’s the mental part that just absolutely levels me. The popsicles after are great though.

Until next time …

Wellness

Putting on my training heels

April 7, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … hatch a half marathon training plan.

There is something so romantic about being a runner. Rising with the sun. Worn sneakers with soles that trap and hold stories of triumph and trial. Lean arms that swing and pump and plead for one more mile. The pain. The glory. The reward of making it farther than ever before. It’s the most awe-inspiring example of the power of will. Of course I’ve never experienced these things personally (I know, I really sold it in those first few sentences), but when I watch people pounding the pavement on my drive in to work, I momentarily crush on their endurance. The fact that they’re out there. That they are runners. And then I think, damn it, I want to be a runner.The natural retort here would be, “Then go run, fool!” but the truth is, it isn’t that easy. To put it nicely, I am stride challenged. I have all the ambition, but none of the athleticism. I learned several years ago that I am great at moving up and down, and terrible at moving forward; a problem, some would say, when it comes to covering distance.

In high school, we had something called Summer Gym. The program was a requirement for athletes and basically a form of torture for hormonal adolescents in which we were turned out in 98-degree conditions and told to run, dash through tires and look disgusting in front of every boy we ever liked. The climax of Summer Gym was the infamous run to Lion’s Park. Let’s call it 3 miles round trip. My girlfriends pulled the period card and bailed, leaving me and my yet-to-be-diagnosed stationary stride. About 1 mile in, it became clear my only hope was a stamp transfer. Please, god of teenagers, let me get a stamp transfer. When a runner reached the park, they received a Sharpie stamp on the back of their hand before looping back to finish the course at the school. Runner after runner came back at me, Sharpie mark flashing, until I finally spotted a cheerleader comrade. We locked eyes, desperation in mine, pity in hers. She pressed her Sharpie against the back of my sweaty hand. We held them there for maybe a full minute. Nothing. There was no hope now. I was going to have to run the rest of the route. Worse yet, the group couldn’t stretch and leave for the day until every single runner returned. I finished dead last. They sent a football player to get me. I believe his words of encouragement were, “Move your ass!” if memory serves.

Since that fateful day, I have been chasing down redemption. I want to run a half marathon more than anything. I’ve walked it three times, with a little jogging peppered in. But this is the year. I have developed a very detailed 5-part action plan for how I am going to come at it.

1. Pick a race and sign up.
Done. It’s at the end of September in my hometown.

2. Get some new kicks.
I always end up with Brooks Adrenalines, but I’ll still go to our local running
store for my biannual analysis because I like watching my feet on camera and imposing my self-deprecating commentary on the sales guy.

3. Train to train.
There is this wonderful gal at work who runs the real deal races. She has helped several other people come up with a kickass training program, so I picked one I liked and sent it to her. She asked how far, frequently and fast I am currently running. I sent my stats. Her response was sweet and thoughtful and she (summarized) basically suggested I use the program I had found to get me ready to start a real training program in July. So, I need to train to train. I get it. That’s where I’m at. Truth is a liquor best served straight up. So, I’m starting my pretraining training program today.

4. Train.

In July, I will begin one of Hal Higdon’s Half Marathon Novice training programs. I’ll have to give this more thought when I get there.

5. Find some sucker

I have solicited a few friends to join me, with some interest returned. I had a great walking partner, who very politely passed on trying to run the thing. I worry about someone with a quick or long stride because, as we’ve established, this is not my jam. I need someone who is determined to finish, but not super speedy.

So, here we go … 26 weeks and counting!