23 miles and Counting

We started at 5 am today at the runner's bathroom. Henry Tracy and I ran up bike path to Gilman, to Torrey Pines Road, dropped down La Jolla Shores, followed the LJ Half course to the Cove, through La Jolla and Bird Rock, down to Belmont Rollercoaster along the boardwalk, East on West Mission Bay Drive, through Sea World and back past Fiesta Island along bike path to finish at the runner's bathroom again. 23 miles in 3:13.

My body felt pretty good the whole way. The legs were a little tired, but overall, felt okay. My stomach, however, was so sad at the end. As soon as I got into the car and drove away, I felt sick to my stomach. Took a long shower and was afraid to get out for fear of the vomit factor. I am totally defeated to think that I will be derailed by a stomach issue once again for RNR Marathon. I took only water and 5 Cliff Shot blocks this run, knowing that in the past, it is the sugar that kills me.

I welcome any input as to how I can conquer the inexplicable and totally undesirable need to puke at the finish of a long run. I have experiemented with lots of different nutrition and taken Rolaids and Tums along the way for races. I feel totally doomed to suffer this problems forever and it makes me terribly worried about the pending marathon. Ugg. I hate vomit.

Saturday ride

Hour and a half around Fiesta Island with Theresa. Easy spin, great conversation. Felt good to ride in the sun, though the wind was wicked.

Swim like I mean it

Much needed day off from running....not one mile. Only laced up my shoes for the gym.

5 am gym to lift legs and bis/tris

6m Masters Workout
We were supposed to be in the new pool for long course, but I was actually a little relieved to be short course today, due to a water polo match in the new facility. Long course just sounded like too much work. I have decided I need to adjust my attitude completely about the pool. All too often it defeats me entirely. I am not a swimmer. I don't pretend to be one. I am dead smack in the middle of the pool for my interval. The only think I love about the workout is the coffee I drink at the pool's edge between sets and chatting it up with friends. Today I decided I was going to swim the whole set if it killed me and forgo the jacuzzi altogether.

300 warm up

200 on base
2 x 100 base minus 5

2 x 100 fast, 100 recovery
4 x 50 fast, 100 recovery
4 x 25 fast, 100 recovery

100 fast IM order, 100 recovery
4 x 50 fast IM order, 100 recovery
4 x 25 fast IM order, 100 recovery

This was the most pool work I have done all week, so I felt pretty good about the set. Love when Allison leads the lane because it is work but not punishment. Smooth and steady, which is just what I needed for a Friday.

Thursday Track

To the gym for chest and back then to track.

2 mile warmup with group around campus.

Talked them into mile repeats instead of hill repeats.
Only had time for 5. Supposed to be at marathon pace, but really looked like this:

7:11
7:15
7:14
7:14
7:15

Would have liked to do ten if the clock had allowed for it. Felt comfortable and chatted the whole way.

To Workout, to workout

4:00 am start the day with 6 1/2 mile run in the dark and pouring rain. Plugged along thinking about coffee the whole way. My legs feel totally recovered, but the body was not excited to be moving at any kind of a pace.

6:00 am in the pool. Long course
400 warm up
6 x 150 on base, 50 free, 50 stroke, 50 free
20x 100...that was on the board. I did 3 and then hit the jacuzzi
grand total of 1600, pathetic, but so tired and uninspired in the pool again

5:30 pm 22 miles on the bike through Santa Luz. Cooler than last week but nice to be out, despite traffic on the roads.

How is tomorrow Thursday already?

Tuesday Blues

Another recovery day. Went to the gym to lift bis, tris, shoulders. I used to go 5 weekday mornings, but now have decided to try for only three mornings and do more each time. Felt great to lift. I remember the day I used to dread weights. Now I dare say I am addicted, sometimes desperate for some gym time. Stretched a lot and thought about what the day might bring. Felt a little blue that race is over and looking to what is next.

Showed my face at the track workout, only to run an easy 4 1/2 miles, not the scheduled 1000s everyone else did. Feel almost totally normal today and recapped the race stories with friends. 5 out of 7 of our warmup crew did La Jolla, so that was great fun to chat it up. We have a pretty amazing group of amard winners among us. Lots of age group placing for this Half, as well as those who did the tri in Palm Springs.

Feel blessed to be alive with legs that carry me and the heart to want it. When I am discouraged that I am not something I desire to be, I need to remember to be grateful for what I have and use those gifts. Post race blues are fading fast when I think of our scheduled 22 mile run this weekend.

The quads are talking

Another day brought tired quads for this morning's run. I met Susan at 4:45 am. Planned to go to the gym first, but everything was just tired after yesterday. We ran 6 1/2 miles at a comfortable pace. We usually run 10 on Mondays, but we are both recovering from weekend races. Both grabbed a coffee....I think it was the best cup I have had to date. I still feel high from yesterday's run. I might as well be Deena Kastor in London. I feel like a celebrity, though no one knows or cares or celebrates over a 1:39 half. I think I will milk it a little longer.

Then, it was off to the pool for an easy swim. Long course this week, which I love. It feels like an eternity from one end of the lane to the other, which makes me realize just how much rest I am taking at the walls in short course. I am so slow it is pathetic, about 1:40ish interval. I would love to improve on speed and technique, but I am overwhelmed thinking about all I need to change in my stroke. Marc says I look like I swim catchup freestyle all the time, even when I am not trying to do drills. So, where does that leave me when I really am drilling????

I think I need more time in the water before Soma to build some confidence, but I have that pesky marathon standing in the way that I need to devote some more time to with running. I swam about 1400 and got out to soak in the hot tub as a reward. Sometimes it is nice to be a slacker.

La Jolla Half 2006

In The Beginning....

So, I have been talked into keeping a blog. Something that is foreign and kind of ridiculous to me, but seeming to make a little more sense when I consider the training log I keep. Here I begin the journey into the blog world and hoping to gain insight and understanding of those I have mocked in the past for doing the same.

Race Day

Today was one of my favorite races, La Jolla Half Marathon. Most all runners are familiar with the course, begining at the Race Track in Del Mar and finishing at beautiful La Jolla Cove, with 13.1 miles of scenic beauty in between. On a day like today, it is no wonder we pay the sunshine tax here in San Diego when the ocean was placid and the sky fair blue. I tried to be thankful with every step I took and, despite feeling a bit dizzy at the top of Torrey Pines Hill, I threw up a little prayer to acknowledge the One who gives it all to us.

Race day began with the usual jitters and unsettled stomach I always experience. My close friends all know and have witnessed my intimate relationship with vomit when I cross the finish line at most marathons. I have been derailed by stomach ailments more times than I care to recount and often suffer the pangs of stomach problems even in a half marathon. I am wondering how bad it could get in the Half Iroman that looms in my future, but I will have to cross that bridge when I come to it.

I ate 3 Cliff Shot Blocks at the start, determined to stay away from the Gu that seems to ruin my belly. It felt great being with friends who were all in the same race boat, John, Mike, Tom, Henry, and Tracy. We all train long on the weekends together and it was comforting to have some support, though we all silently knew it is every man for himself come raceday. John has always been my pacedog for past half marathons. He is as steady as the day is long, and though he usually drops me like a bad habit around mile 8, I am grateful for company at the start. Today, I had little Tracy as a shoulder to run on. Mother of 2 and weighing less than a buck, she is the tiniest package of determination I have ever met. An accomplished runner with a huge heart, she is an easy prescence to be with...and a running force to be reckoned with.

"Down By the Race Track Early in the Morning, See the Little Racers, all in a Row. See the Race Director, Pull the Horn's handle, 'Uh, Oh!' 'Beep, Beep!' Off We Go!"

The horn went off and we were off. Mile one came and went with little incident. I was thinking we would run about 7:50 pace, but there we were at 7:25. "Surely we will settle in," I told myself. Mile 2 just before Jake's in Del Mar, where I worked in college, brought a mile not much slower, about 7:30 pace. I was a little worried, but went with it because there Tracy was plugging away with John steps in front, and Tom and Henry in front of him. Mike was off the radar completely. I felt sick with worry, but kept my concrete and reluctant feet moving at that pace. I tried to remind myself we all have to run our own race and not to get sucked into anything else.

The miles seemed to fly by, 3 and then 4 with Torrey Pines Hill looming in sight now. Tracy took a Gu and now I was a little fearful of that fateful decision I made to pitch my one packet at the starting line. We passed Tom and John and Henry along the coast stretch. The ocean was a blue I had never noticed before and to me it resounded the fact that only the Creator's hand could accomplish such a work. To the Hill we went.

"Here we go girl!!!" she yelled to me on the ascent. Suddenly, the racers and all the world disappeared. I was in a zone all my own, which is so unusual for me. I am always so dependent on friends to carry me along, and here I was, suddendly strung out all alone. Trace was somewhere behind me on the climb, after all, at 85 pounds, there is nothing on that tush of hers to puch her up that hill. John was coming, too. Tom was somewhere not far behind with Henry chasing him. Mike has left us at mile 1, with no looking back.

I didn't care, really. I was on my own, almost skipping up that hill. I didn't feel great until I reminded myself how intimately I know that climb. How I have practiced it and attacked it and dissected it numerous times. It was not going to claim me today. I found some guy wearing a bright blue singlet and chose to tag him as my rabbit. I hung on to that shirt the whole way up. The best part of racing in my mind are the friends one meets along the way. Today was no different. There was no shortage of people to talk to or comiserate with. Especially with Torrey out of the way, we all breathed a sign of relief. It was the unspoken understanding of nervous jokes and thankful rejoicing that we all began a little chatter among each other. It felt great to be alive with that under our belts, myself and 2000 of my closest friends out for our Sunday run. Mile 6 at the top brought water and 3 more Cliff Blocks. Soon came mile 7 and onward. I began to notice the heat.

The deceiving part of LJ Half is Torrey is not even the kicker. The Hill is over, but the climb does not stop there. It continues up past the hospital and to UCSD. As you round the corner to North Torrey Pines Road, only then does it flatten out and then decend enough to bring some relief to the weary traveler. I had to take advantage of the downhill. I had stopped looking at my watch or even thinking about the miles. I wanted only to think about the course in front of me and concentrate on the road. Where was Tracy??? I wondered if she had already passed me and I missed her? Miles 8 and 9 were kind of vague, but still no Tracy. I was decidedly on my own for the conclusion. I took 2 more Blocks to console myself and ditched the bag with the remaining nutrition.
Then, dropping down La Jolla Shores just past mile 10, I saw her nymph-like frame flutter past me, hollering, "It took me 4 miles to catch you!"

"Go, girlee," I yelled back, thrilled to know she was still in the game and wanting desperately to keep her in view as she flew by effortlessly. Down the hill we rambled, all the way to the boardwalk, I could see her floating along. And then, on the beach just past the main Guard tower, I caught a glimpse of what looked like my little girl. HOw could that be, since I knew Marc and the kids were to be at the finish? But, there she was, running to the wall, yelling, "Go, mama!" That was the most joyful thing I had seen all day, my fan club of Marc and the little people with Susan and Steve and their beautiful boys all cheering. It was a delicious and much needed distraction from the aches in my legs. It gave me the little lift I needed, knowing I was coming into the dreaded territory that gets me every year, the hills past 12. I waved as I went by and rounded the corner, then another and one more to the Marine Room.

Death Could Have Become Me

Mile 12. It kills me every year. Every year, I end up walking through the water station with the same familiar mantra of 2 words per step I will not print here in black and white for you to read. Not this year. This year was going to be different. I kept shuffling. I did not stop or even entertain those curse words of defeat. I skipped the water to shuffle those concrete feet further up the hill of Spindrift toward Torrey Pines Road again. "I'm on my way home," I said over and over. I began to pick people off. There was the blue singlet guy again. I was right on his heels! I was in disbelief! I thought he had left me on the Shores hill with Tracy, who was now around the corner ahead of me and out of sight. I pumped my arms and picked it up to pass him. I made the right turn onto TP Road and up the last hill to Prosepct. There were people cheering along the way. I couldn't hear them, I was dreaming of the finish. I knew I had run a smart race.

The Finish

Hard Right onto Prospect Place and screaming down the hill. There was Tracy, her little legs hammering. Those bricks hurt every year and every year I am certain I am going to trip over my own feet and kiss the pavement. I could hear the announcer. I could hear the crowd yelling. I tried to peek at the clock, fearful that the time would read something slower than last year's time for me. All I needed was 1:43 and I would be golden. I strained to see the numbers but there were too many people in the way. I rounded the bend and just before I hear that delightful beep of chips crossing the line, I read the time, 1:39:29. Could it be? A PR for me on this course. Not my fastest half, but for this beast of a race, it was notable for my portfolio. Tracy came right over and hugged me. She was in a minute before and we were thrilled. It felt like a fabulous day. Then came John, 30 seconds behind. "I tried to catch you, but I just couldn't," said he. "Marc and Steve said you were 20 seconds in front at Shores and I just couldn't get you." Perhaps the 80 miles he rode the day before were still in his legs. My legs were shaking as I sat down to take the chip off for the volunteers.

The really lovely thing about the day was we all had a great one. Tracy's virgin race back after 2 boys brought her a stellar time. Mike came in 1:34 and felt leisurely. Henry bettered his race by 7 minutes the previous year at 1:43. Tom's first half marathon brought him a very respectable 1:45. And though it was a PR for me on this course, that was not where the elation was found. The fact that I did not march directly to a garbage can at the finish to empty the contents of my stomach was reason enough to celebrate. I was ebullient. I felt high. Only bummer is now I have to try for the same time next year. Hmmm. I will have to sleep on that one.