After four months of training, including dealing with a nagging leg issue (Thanks, Dr. Moos!) and many, many "sweating into my shoes" long runs in the glorious Austin heat (Thanks, Rogue teammates!), this was supposed to be my pre-race wrap-up post. Turns out I won't even make it to the starting line. Monday morning I had a great, short easy run, in which I noticed how balanced my stride felt, how nothing was hurting. Gracie kept pace alongside and I cautioned a couple of glances at the pre-dawn stars, enjoying the cooler morning air, clear skies, the ease of breathing, of running. Sunday's outcome unknown, but the race plan rock-solid (Thanks, Coach Amy!). Monday night, as I bent to pick up a shoe, I felt something strange in my lower back. Then I REALLY felt it when I stood up. Ouch is an understatement!
Diagnosis: discogenic lumbar region, aka bulging disc. At least it's not herniated. To add insult to injury, the cold I've been holding at bay for the past three weeks has settled in full bore.
For the first time in my racing life, I will not be at the starting line of an event I registered for. I canceled my travel plans because sitting on a plane for several hours is unthinkable, much less running a marathon. Canceling the trip sucks as much as missing the race because I was realy looking forward to seeing trail family, Journey and The Saint. I've got a call in to the race organizers to find out if I can transfer my registration to next year's race, and I'm attacking my recovery like I would a Yasso 800.
I've been asked "what's the lesson in this?" I don't think there is one. Sometimes these things just happen, and what matters is how I deal with it. Acknowledging my progress. Many great things have happened over the course of the training season. Improved self-care (nutrition & rest), getting to know and run with an awesomely fun bunch of people, training with Coach Amy & Coach Rex, practicing patience with persistent injuries (I get to practice that some more!), improved fitness, a return to the ease and joy of running that I hadn't felt since my Thru-Hike, and learning that I don't know #%!&. Having my feelings. It's an understatement that I'm deeply disappointed to miss this race, I've shed some tears, shaken my fist at the universe, and probably will again, but none of the "what might have beens" diminish the victories of this traning season. Moving on. A wise coach taught me to consider what it might mean to miss a goal, and though this is a setback, it's a resolvable one. The Doc says we've caught the issue early and I can expect a 4-6 week recovery. I'm investigating things I can do to maintain my fitness while I heal, and I am still on the path, a stronger, smarter runner. Any big goal carries with it an element of risk, that's what makes it exciting to work toward, regardless of the outcome. Writing this entry. I will need to remind myself of all of this in a couple weeks when I'm depressed about not being able to run and in the thick of PT.
For my Rogue teammates and other friends who are gearing up for Twin Cities, Chicago, Nike, Portland, Columbus, Marine Corps, New York, San Antonio, and other fall races - run with heart!
It has been an honor and privilege to run with you, I'll be back as soon as I'm able.
The Rogue Blog has a great article on Dealing With Failure.
29 September 2011
23 July 2011
Race Report: Baytown Bud Heatwave
The last time this race happened was 11 years ago. They call it the heatwave for a reason. The last (and only previous) time I ran it was at least 15 years ago, and I almost passed out from heat stress. Granted, I was younger, dumber (i.e. not nearly as educated about training), and not really prepared for the distance and conditions. But I was very reluctant to enter races after that.
I was due for another visit to my birthplace, and an inexpensive 5 mile race on July 4 was good incentive for a family visit. Plus, I was curious to see how I'd fare with the benefits of age and experience. Race morning I dropped Gracie off at my parents house after a breakfast of raw oats, chia seed, raisins, walnuts, and almond milk. I drank a Nuun on the drive over. It was a fairly small field (352 finishers), but well supported with aid stations and cold sponges on the race route, showers, popsicles (no HFCS), water, fruit, sodas, beer, & sausage on a stick at the finish. I enjoy smaller, grassroots races like this because the course is less crowded, and I have better odds of placing well in my age group. I never claimed I wasn't opportunistic. I'd driven the course the night before and the last mile and a quarter were daunting. A long straight stretch where you could see the finish three blocks to your right, but had to go another half mile or so before making the turn toward the finish. I ran the straightaway for my 20 minute warmup, then headed to the start.
A local student sang the heck out of the National Anthem, then I spotted my parents, who'd made it to see us off. I ran over to give them both a hug, really excited they were there. My goal for this race? In the back of my mind, breaking 40 minutes, but I really had no idea if that was reasonable, considering the conditions and that I'd only done long, slow, distance training to that point. Plus, some tightness in my right calf was just beginning to be an issue.
I went out conservative at the start. Besides the real contenders, who were long gone, quite a few people motored past me, and I let them all go, telling myself I'd probably see some of them later in the race. I picked a comfortably hard pace and checked my time at the first mile. I was reasonably happy with the pace and settled into a pretty good rhythm through miles 2 and 3. Lots of turns in this section, and some welcome shade. A scenic course, this is not, but I don't think that would be possible in Baytown. Around mile 2, an older guy passed me and complimented my running form. He ended up winning his age group (65-69).
With a 7am start, the sun was fairly high by the halfway point, and it was getting hot. The ice cold sponges were awesome and plentiful. Between miles 3 & 4, it seemed like I stopped sweating, and I was mildly concerned. By this point in the race, I was starting to pass the people that went out too hard, and that just motivated me to keep my pace. The last mile was just as tough as I thought it might be, but I finished at 40:50 and change, for an 8:10 per mile pace and fourth in my age group. Not quite fast enough to score a giant beer mug, out of which I'd probably only drink smoothies. Technically I was seventh, but the top three women in my age group took the top three masters spots, so, I got bumped. I always like a free upgrade!
Post-run, I ate half a popsicle, lots of fruit, caught up with my parents, had one bite of sausage, and zero beer. Mom & Dad took me to a local taqueria for one of the best plates of huevos rancheros ever, infomercials on the TV notwithstanding. Then I went back to the hotel for an ice bath, trigger point, and nap before hanging with the fam for the rest of the fourth, which included a trip to Baskin Robbin's and two slices of mom's chocolate chess pie for the drive home.
I was due for another visit to my birthplace, and an inexpensive 5 mile race on July 4 was good incentive for a family visit. Plus, I was curious to see how I'd fare with the benefits of age and experience. Race morning I dropped Gracie off at my parents house after a breakfast of raw oats, chia seed, raisins, walnuts, and almond milk. I drank a Nuun on the drive over. It was a fairly small field (352 finishers), but well supported with aid stations and cold sponges on the race route, showers, popsicles (no HFCS), water, fruit, sodas, beer, & sausage on a stick at the finish. I enjoy smaller, grassroots races like this because the course is less crowded, and I have better odds of placing well in my age group. I never claimed I wasn't opportunistic. I'd driven the course the night before and the last mile and a quarter were daunting. A long straight stretch where you could see the finish three blocks to your right, but had to go another half mile or so before making the turn toward the finish. I ran the straightaway for my 20 minute warmup, then headed to the start.
A local student sang the heck out of the National Anthem, then I spotted my parents, who'd made it to see us off. I ran over to give them both a hug, really excited they were there. My goal for this race? In the back of my mind, breaking 40 minutes, but I really had no idea if that was reasonable, considering the conditions and that I'd only done long, slow, distance training to that point. Plus, some tightness in my right calf was just beginning to be an issue.
I went out conservative at the start. Besides the real contenders, who were long gone, quite a few people motored past me, and I let them all go, telling myself I'd probably see some of them later in the race. I picked a comfortably hard pace and checked my time at the first mile. I was reasonably happy with the pace and settled into a pretty good rhythm through miles 2 and 3. Lots of turns in this section, and some welcome shade. A scenic course, this is not, but I don't think that would be possible in Baytown. Around mile 2, an older guy passed me and complimented my running form. He ended up winning his age group (65-69).
With a 7am start, the sun was fairly high by the halfway point, and it was getting hot. The ice cold sponges were awesome and plentiful. Between miles 3 & 4, it seemed like I stopped sweating, and I was mildly concerned. By this point in the race, I was starting to pass the people that went out too hard, and that just motivated me to keep my pace. The last mile was just as tough as I thought it might be, but I finished at 40:50 and change, for an 8:10 per mile pace and fourth in my age group. Not quite fast enough to score a giant beer mug, out of which I'd probably only drink smoothies. Technically I was seventh, but the top three women in my age group took the top three masters spots, so, I got bumped. I always like a free upgrade!
Post-run, I ate half a popsicle, lots of fruit, caught up with my parents, had one bite of sausage, and zero beer. Mom & Dad took me to a local taqueria for one of the best plates of huevos rancheros ever, infomercials on the TV notwithstanding. Then I went back to the hotel for an ice bath, trigger point, and nap before hanging with the fam for the rest of the fourth, which included a trip to Baskin Robbin's and two slices of mom's chocolate chess pie for the drive home.
19 June 2011
Race Report: Pflugerville Tri - Breakthrough Swim
Marathon training is in base building mode, so what better way to follow up a 14-miler than to race a sprint tri the following morning.
When I considered which triathlons to do this summer, Pflugerville had a lot to like about it. Smallish race, new (to me) course, and reasonable entry fee. Knowing it was on the calendar was good motivation to swim a lap or two at Barton Springs every now and then. Same for starting a twice a week bike commute schedule during bike month. So, my preparation/training for this race was lots of easy pace running, 3-4 stride sets per week, a couple of short post-run swims per week, and biking to work a couple times a week. I had no goal time or expectations for the race other than to maintain hard effort throughout the race (whatever that might feel like after a 14-miler), and enjoy the return to multisport.
I figured the course would be pretty windy. We've had lots of wind out of the south lately, and there's not a lot of development or trees near the race site. I didn't account for the effect of the wind on the swim course. Swimming is the segment of triathlon where I have the most "opportunity for improvement". Standing on the shore of the lake, I got really nervous seeing how choppy the water was. Getting bumped and jostled by other swimmers, or getting splashed in the face when trying to breathe cause little anxiety spikes for me. Tension makes for inefficient swimming, which would only be compounded by the rough water. Things were not looking good to me. It didn't help to see one of the women from the previous wave turn around and swim back to the start. Standing there, waiting to start, I told myself just swim buoy to buoy, once you get to the red one (halfway) the hard part is over. For the second half of the swim, we'd be headed back to shore, with the waves. By that time, I wasn't particularly nervous, more resolved that the swim was going to be tough, but slow and steady, I'd get through it.
The horn sounded for our start, I hesitated for a moment, started my watch, then started swimming. To my utter surprise, I quickly fell into a rhythm, and was more relaxed than I'd ever felt on a swim, regardless of conditions. I found myself riding along with the waves, breathing in sync with the motion of the water, hardly getting splashed in the face at all. I seemed to maintain pretty good body position without much thought or effort. Before I knew it, I was past the second buoy and headed for the halfway point. Rolling with the conditions and not fighting was making it easier somehow. Granted, I was still working, and my arms were getting tired by the halfway point, but I was feeling really good about my progress and my mental state. The second half of the swim actually felt harder than the first. Fatigue was starting to set in, but my pace seemed to slow despite the calmer water and swimming with the wind. I went a little wide on the return, reset my course, and exited the water really happy about how I'd managed a difficult swim.
The bike course felt long and was very windy. Tailwind and downhill to start, then stiff crosswind/headwind/crosswind/headwind combinations with long slow uphills, rollers and a few glorious sections with tailwind. I don't ride with a computer, so went purely on effort, and maintained whatever gear/cadence necessary to keep my breathing at a comfortably hard level. Here's where I started feeling yesterday's 14-miler. My legs were the limiter on the bike, which probably served to keep some cardio in reserve for the run. I took a gel and some Nuun in the first mile, then chose not to take another gel. Any race is as much a mental test as a physical one, but today's conditions were the kind that make it easier to / harder not to get caught up in head games about how tough it is. When the going gets tough, just keep going. This was the toughest part of the day for me. I just didn't have any power in my legs and the course reminded me too much of my bike commute. Long, slow, windy uphills that should have felt easier since I wasn't carrying a backpack. Perhaps on fresh legs it would've been different.
It took almost a mile for me to settle into my breathing on the run. I'd forgotten what it felt like to transition to the run after the bike. Shuffle-jog into the headwind, head down so as not to lose that hard-won Rogue Trail Series hat. By the time I get to the far side of the lake, I'm in my stride. My lungs feel like the limiter by now. We've got a good headwind for parts of the run. I put my head down and let the wind blow through me. I think I'm picking up the pace as I go, but can't tell for sure. I definitely pick it up for the last 150 or so yards to the finish. Start easy, finish strong. Glad to be done. Race results not in yet, but I don't really care about my time after how great the swim felt.
Highlights/Observations
Seeing Pyrofly - fellow '09 AT Hiker: thanks for the body marking, hope to see you out racing soon!
The first half of the swim
Mile 8 of the bike - An old windmill in the field to the left: hearing it's fleeting squeak as it slowly turned in the wind, like a cry from the past.
Hanging out with racing buddies Devon, Krista, & Ken
Robin & Gracie coming out to cheer me on
When I considered which triathlons to do this summer, Pflugerville had a lot to like about it. Smallish race, new (to me) course, and reasonable entry fee. Knowing it was on the calendar was good motivation to swim a lap or two at Barton Springs every now and then. Same for starting a twice a week bike commute schedule during bike month. So, my preparation/training for this race was lots of easy pace running, 3-4 stride sets per week, a couple of short post-run swims per week, and biking to work a couple times a week. I had no goal time or expectations for the race other than to maintain hard effort throughout the race (whatever that might feel like after a 14-miler), and enjoy the return to multisport.
I figured the course would be pretty windy. We've had lots of wind out of the south lately, and there's not a lot of development or trees near the race site. I didn't account for the effect of the wind on the swim course. Swimming is the segment of triathlon where I have the most "opportunity for improvement". Standing on the shore of the lake, I got really nervous seeing how choppy the water was. Getting bumped and jostled by other swimmers, or getting splashed in the face when trying to breathe cause little anxiety spikes for me. Tension makes for inefficient swimming, which would only be compounded by the rough water. Things were not looking good to me. It didn't help to see one of the women from the previous wave turn around and swim back to the start. Standing there, waiting to start, I told myself just swim buoy to buoy, once you get to the red one (halfway) the hard part is over. For the second half of the swim, we'd be headed back to shore, with the waves. By that time, I wasn't particularly nervous, more resolved that the swim was going to be tough, but slow and steady, I'd get through it.
The horn sounded for our start, I hesitated for a moment, started my watch, then started swimming. To my utter surprise, I quickly fell into a rhythm, and was more relaxed than I'd ever felt on a swim, regardless of conditions. I found myself riding along with the waves, breathing in sync with the motion of the water, hardly getting splashed in the face at all. I seemed to maintain pretty good body position without much thought or effort. Before I knew it, I was past the second buoy and headed for the halfway point. Rolling with the conditions and not fighting was making it easier somehow. Granted, I was still working, and my arms were getting tired by the halfway point, but I was feeling really good about my progress and my mental state. The second half of the swim actually felt harder than the first. Fatigue was starting to set in, but my pace seemed to slow despite the calmer water and swimming with the wind. I went a little wide on the return, reset my course, and exited the water really happy about how I'd managed a difficult swim.
The bike course felt long and was very windy. Tailwind and downhill to start, then stiff crosswind/headwind/crosswind/headwind combinations with long slow uphills, rollers and a few glorious sections with tailwind. I don't ride with a computer, so went purely on effort, and maintained whatever gear/cadence necessary to keep my breathing at a comfortably hard level. Here's where I started feeling yesterday's 14-miler. My legs were the limiter on the bike, which probably served to keep some cardio in reserve for the run. I took a gel and some Nuun in the first mile, then chose not to take another gel. Any race is as much a mental test as a physical one, but today's conditions were the kind that make it easier to / harder not to get caught up in head games about how tough it is. When the going gets tough, just keep going. This was the toughest part of the day for me. I just didn't have any power in my legs and the course reminded me too much of my bike commute. Long, slow, windy uphills that should have felt easier since I wasn't carrying a backpack. Perhaps on fresh legs it would've been different.
It took almost a mile for me to settle into my breathing on the run. I'd forgotten what it felt like to transition to the run after the bike. Shuffle-jog into the headwind, head down so as not to lose that hard-won Rogue Trail Series hat. By the time I get to the far side of the lake, I'm in my stride. My lungs feel like the limiter by now. We've got a good headwind for parts of the run. I put my head down and let the wind blow through me. I think I'm picking up the pace as I go, but can't tell for sure. I definitely pick it up for the last 150 or so yards to the finish. Start easy, finish strong. Glad to be done. Race results not in yet, but I don't really care about my time after how great the swim felt.
Highlights/Observations
Seeing Pyrofly - fellow '09 AT Hiker: thanks for the body marking, hope to see you out racing soon!
The first half of the swim
Mile 8 of the bike - An old windmill in the field to the left: hearing it's fleeting squeak as it slowly turned in the wind, like a cry from the past.
Hanging out with racing buddies Devon, Krista, & Ken
Robin & Gracie coming out to cheer me on
01 June 2011
The Ranch 30K
Or, Are we done yet?
Parts of the course reminded me of Grayson Highlands State Park, with a Texas twist of mesquite trees. Running over the granite uplift and through granite boulders was wonderful. And fortunately, only part of the first 10 miles. I couldn't have repeated that section, it was spectacular, but tough. This race was my absolute favorite of the series. On-site camping, beautiful course, beautiful weather, awesome post-race showers and food. The scenery was so amazing that I didn't feel bad for the times I slowed to a walk. That said, I least looked forward to this race. I had busted my knee and elbow open at the ranch two weeks prior on a training run, and had struggled on long runs since. I was tired and ready to be done. Apparently, my busted knee was legendary. Some of my friends told the staff they were with me and didn't have to pay for camping.
The field was probably twice that of the previous races, so chances of placing were pretty slim. The 'back of my mind' unofficial/unspoken goal was to finish no slower than The Loop race at Emma Long, but I wasn't sure even that was possible. Tough to gauge how that was going on this (unequal) two loop course. Loop one was about 11 miles, loop two made up the difference. Turns out no one got official times or placing because there were course marking issues. Many people took wrong turns and either ran over or under 30K. My time was on par with my goal, so I either ran short and slower, or ran the course as marked.
A couple of times I stumbled but caught myself. Both times I rather vehemently told the trail, "you are *not* getting another piece of me!" Both occurrences boosted by energy level for a bit, so that was a nice bonus for not quite falling. Somewhere beyond the halfway point, my right hip started to bug me. Either my adductor or psoas was complaining. I tried some minor gait adjustments with some success. It never really resolved itself, but would come and go for the rest of the race. It slowed me to a walk a few times, so I got to enjoy the views. The hardest part was the last half mile. We had to run back along an unshaded dirt road, skirting the pond by the pavilion, where we could see the spectators and everyone who'd already finished. And they could see whether I was still running. I really wanted to walk for part of that last bit, but kept running (slowly) out of pride. We circled wide to get back to the finish line, which I couldn't see until I'd made the final turn. It was a nice surprise to see my housemates and friends there to cheer me in, with a sign and everything! I found a little finishing kick for the last 50 yards, very happy to be done.
My time was slightly faster than the previous race, and being one of the few women who completed the 30K series, I earned a pair of Brooks Cascadias. Not bad for 90K in 3 months.
Six days of rest, and on the seventh day, fall marathon training began. So far, I'm enjoying the base building phase.
Parts of the course reminded me of Grayson Highlands State Park, with a Texas twist of mesquite trees. Running over the granite uplift and through granite boulders was wonderful. And fortunately, only part of the first 10 miles. I couldn't have repeated that section, it was spectacular, but tough. This race was my absolute favorite of the series. On-site camping, beautiful course, beautiful weather, awesome post-race showers and food. The scenery was so amazing that I didn't feel bad for the times I slowed to a walk. That said, I least looked forward to this race. I had busted my knee and elbow open at the ranch two weeks prior on a training run, and had struggled on long runs since. I was tired and ready to be done. Apparently, my busted knee was legendary. Some of my friends told the staff they were with me and didn't have to pay for camping.
The field was probably twice that of the previous races, so chances of placing were pretty slim. The 'back of my mind' unofficial/unspoken goal was to finish no slower than The Loop race at Emma Long, but I wasn't sure even that was possible. Tough to gauge how that was going on this (unequal) two loop course. Loop one was about 11 miles, loop two made up the difference. Turns out no one got official times or placing because there were course marking issues. Many people took wrong turns and either ran over or under 30K. My time was on par with my goal, so I either ran short and slower, or ran the course as marked.
A couple of times I stumbled but caught myself. Both times I rather vehemently told the trail, "you are *not* getting another piece of me!" Both occurrences boosted by energy level for a bit, so that was a nice bonus for not quite falling. Somewhere beyond the halfway point, my right hip started to bug me. Either my adductor or psoas was complaining. I tried some minor gait adjustments with some success. It never really resolved itself, but would come and go for the rest of the race. It slowed me to a walk a few times, so I got to enjoy the views. The hardest part was the last half mile. We had to run back along an unshaded dirt road, skirting the pond by the pavilion, where we could see the spectators and everyone who'd already finished. And they could see whether I was still running. I really wanted to walk for part of that last bit, but kept running (slowly) out of pride. We circled wide to get back to the finish line, which I couldn't see until I'd made the final turn. It was a nice surprise to see my housemates and friends there to cheer me in, with a sign and everything! I found a little finishing kick for the last 50 yards, very happy to be done.
My time was slightly faster than the previous race, and being one of the few women who completed the 30K series, I earned a pair of Brooks Cascadias. Not bad for 90K in 3 months.
Six days of rest, and on the seventh day, fall marathon training began. So far, I'm enjoying the base building phase.
21 May 2011
The Loop 30K
Skipped my usual pre-race breakfast because I just didn't feel like it. That had some consequences in the last 5K when my stomach started growling. Two weeks prior, I ran a loop of the course with my training group. It was a tough morning and I was not looking forward to running three more loops of that course. Turns out it wasn't so bad (some things never quite are in retrospect)
Highlights:
Highlights:
- pre-race campout. The weather was nice enough to "cowboy camp." Gracie was a little more restless because the surrounding campsites had a later "lights out" than me, but she eventually settled in. So nice to sleep in the open.
- ending the first loop, a little family group was up on the bluff above the parking lot cheering the runners. The little kids stuck their hands out for high fives. That kind of stuff makes me smile. I was disappointed they weren't there for loops 2 & 3.
- halfway into the third loop, I noticed a bright red salvia blossoming off to the left of the trail, and wondered how I'd missed seeing it the first two loops. It looked almost neon in contrast to it's surroundings.
- spent most of loop 3 running alone. Emma Long is far enough from town to escape some of the sounds of civilization, which is nice.
- swimming. Spent some time throwing balls & sticks in the lake for Gracie to fetch the evening before. After the race I got to appreciate the cool Lake Austin waters and give Gracie more time in the water.
- finishing with Gracie. Robin arrived during the race to take over Gracie duty, as I had left her secured under a shady tree while I ran. As I made the final turn to the finish, Robin was there with Gracie and I took her leash. Continuing the trend of terrible race photos, the photographer was plagued by dust and wind and didn't get any good shots of us. I was t-i-r-e-d at the finish and Gracie practically dragged me across the finish line. Love that dog, and appreciate Robin for making the effort to come out and support me.
- strategy: start easy finish strong. I really started slow and easy this race, got into my groove around mile 4, then felt steady and strong until the last 5K, when I ran out of gas. Overall, a slower finish than The Maze, but my post-race recovery was easier.
- mental challenge: at the end of each loop, we crossed the parking area (where we could see the finish area about 100 yards away) and headed back into the trees to do a twisty but flat half mile or so until we popped back out near the finish. I was not expecting that little add-on after the first loop, and it didn't get any easier for loops 2 & 3.
11 May 2011
Trail Days
Two years removed from my Appalachian Trail thru-hike, I am still struck by how firmly that experience is etched into my psyche and weaved into my existence. It is rare the conversation where I don't have some related anecdote I could share from the hike. Rare is the day that ends when I haven't thought of someone I met on the trail. I can't hear the wind in the trees, watch an incoming storm, listen to the rain, sit outside, hear songbirds, owls, watch birds in flight, hear "Hey Jude," see a reference to Hannah Montana, or spend time in the woods without remembrance. Sometimes those moments feel like slipping into a warm bath, sometimes I just smile with knowing. On good days, my heart opens up with gratitude and love for the experience and I'm no longer haunted by the question "what's next."
21 April 2011
trail racing
or, what was it I missed so much about trails when I was marathon training?
My return to trail running after six months of almost exclusively road running actually resulted in a more balanced appreciation for both disciplines. Each has its challenges, joys, frustrations, and benefits. The past couple of weeks, my trail group has done intervals on the hike & bike trail and the road, and the speed work has been a welcome change. For awhile, I wondered if concentrating on trail running was a mistake. Maybe I should have focused on road and track-based speed work during the "down time" before marathon training resumes, considering the BQ goal. But two months in, my foot seems completely healed, and I'm convinced that the trail work is strengthening my structural foundation while maintaining the cardio and mileage base, leaving me better prepared for speed work. On to the race report:
The Maze:
A mere month after the marathon, I was questioning my sanity, as the first race in the 30K trail series loomed. I soon learned that a 30K on the trails can feel a lot like a marathon. Started before sunrise, opted not to wear a headlamp (good choice), set the watch to beep every 15 minutes to remind me to hydrate and (every other beep) eat. Ran with Noel from work, who started faster than was comfortable for me, and I worked to keep up anyway. Here's where I learned to never disregard start easy, finish strong. Before the first aid station, I let Noel know I needed to back off a bit, and she graciously slowed her pace somewhat. But I was already working beyond comfortably hard, and would hover there the rest of the race, miserably so in the last 10K. After the aid station at mile 3, Noel offered to regale me with the epic saga of her week of jury duty on a criminal case. I don't quite understand how people have conversations while running. For me, talking expends energy that I need to keep running. The only reason Noel didn't beat me in this race is because she talked for at least six miles. Granted, I asked some clarifying questions and threw in some commentary, but even so, I was still working to maintain pace while she blithely bantered and ran.
Oof! early in loop 2 of the 3 loop race, my toe caught a root when I cut between two trees and I went down hard on my right knee, reopening a scrape from the previous weekend. That's a pain that's gonna linger. Not supposed to be experiencing the last lap lazies just yet, but I am already fatigued. Noel waits while I assess the damage and then we ease back into running. She cautions me to take it easy and let the adrenaline settle. Good advice. When we finish the second loop, Robin is there with the Gracie dog, who gets quite confused when I run past.
Loop 3 is a practice in managing discomfort, staying alert enough to keep from tripping again, and a hard realization that I'm not fully recovered from the marathon. Post-marathon, both quads were sore to the bone for a week and a half. The left more so than the right. Years ago, when I played softball, I trashed my left quad sprinting bases. Every spring, I'd pull the same muscle early in the season, but I haven't been that kind of sore in years. The last 10K of the trail race brought that to mind and I decided that the marathon had aggravated the old injury (muscle memory works both ways) and this trail race wasn't helping matters. Fortunately I had a massage scheduled for later in the week. My awesome pacer Noel pushed me onward, claiming my marathon training gave me the edge on the last 10K. We managed to pass another masters female in the last 5K and I finished a couple of seconds ahead of Noel.
The aftermath: Third in my age group, 5th masters female, and not quite as sore as after the marathon - I was able to walk downstairs by Wednesday following the race. That's progress. There was serious chafing, but I'll spare you the details.
A note about Noel: two weeks after The Maze, she was in quite the bike crash and suffered broken jawbone, cheek, and orbital bones. Fortunately, she was wearing a helmet and riding with a friend who was able to get emergency help. There was no car involved in the crash; one moment she hit a spot of gravel and next she was on the pavement, unconscious. Scary. It's motivated me to finally get a RoadID. Ride with a helmet and emergency identification/information, you never know when you'll need it.
My return to trail running after six months of almost exclusively road running actually resulted in a more balanced appreciation for both disciplines. Each has its challenges, joys, frustrations, and benefits. The past couple of weeks, my trail group has done intervals on the hike & bike trail and the road, and the speed work has been a welcome change. For awhile, I wondered if concentrating on trail running was a mistake. Maybe I should have focused on road and track-based speed work during the "down time" before marathon training resumes, considering the BQ goal. But two months in, my foot seems completely healed, and I'm convinced that the trail work is strengthening my structural foundation while maintaining the cardio and mileage base, leaving me better prepared for speed work. On to the race report:
The Maze:
A mere month after the marathon, I was questioning my sanity, as the first race in the 30K trail series loomed. I soon learned that a 30K on the trails can feel a lot like a marathon. Started before sunrise, opted not to wear a headlamp (good choice), set the watch to beep every 15 minutes to remind me to hydrate and (every other beep) eat. Ran with Noel from work, who started faster than was comfortable for me, and I worked to keep up anyway. Here's where I learned to never disregard start easy, finish strong. Before the first aid station, I let Noel know I needed to back off a bit, and she graciously slowed her pace somewhat. But I was already working beyond comfortably hard, and would hover there the rest of the race, miserably so in the last 10K. After the aid station at mile 3, Noel offered to regale me with the epic saga of her week of jury duty on a criminal case. I don't quite understand how people have conversations while running. For me, talking expends energy that I need to keep running. The only reason Noel didn't beat me in this race is because she talked for at least six miles. Granted, I asked some clarifying questions and threw in some commentary, but even so, I was still working to maintain pace while she blithely bantered and ran.
Oof! early in loop 2 of the 3 loop race, my toe caught a root when I cut between two trees and I went down hard on my right knee, reopening a scrape from the previous weekend. That's a pain that's gonna linger. Not supposed to be experiencing the last lap lazies just yet, but I am already fatigued. Noel waits while I assess the damage and then we ease back into running. She cautions me to take it easy and let the adrenaline settle. Good advice. When we finish the second loop, Robin is there with the Gracie dog, who gets quite confused when I run past.
Loop 3 is a practice in managing discomfort, staying alert enough to keep from tripping again, and a hard realization that I'm not fully recovered from the marathon. Post-marathon, both quads were sore to the bone for a week and a half. The left more so than the right. Years ago, when I played softball, I trashed my left quad sprinting bases. Every spring, I'd pull the same muscle early in the season, but I haven't been that kind of sore in years. The last 10K of the trail race brought that to mind and I decided that the marathon had aggravated the old injury (muscle memory works both ways) and this trail race wasn't helping matters. Fortunately I had a massage scheduled for later in the week. My awesome pacer Noel pushed me onward, claiming my marathon training gave me the edge on the last 10K. We managed to pass another masters female in the last 5K and I finished a couple of seconds ahead of Noel.
The aftermath: Third in my age group, 5th masters female, and not quite as sore as after the marathon - I was able to walk downstairs by Wednesday following the race. That's progress. There was serious chafing, but I'll spare you the details.
A note about Noel: two weeks after The Maze, she was in quite the bike crash and suffered broken jawbone, cheek, and orbital bones. Fortunately, she was wearing a helmet and riding with a friend who was able to get emergency help. There was no car involved in the crash; one moment she hit a spot of gravel and next she was on the pavement, unconscious. Scary. It's motivated me to finally get a RoadID. Ride with a helmet and emergency identification/information, you never know when you'll need it.
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