Now that I've successfully reached my target pace (9 minute/30 second miles) at a half-marathon distance, I'm ready to take my training to the next level. The Philadelphia Marathon is only eight weeks away. I'm heading into new territory with weekly mileage, which includes longer runs than I've ever done before.
There are two ways to build weekly mileage. You can run fewer days, with longer distances for each training session. Or you can run more days (up to 5 or 6), but shorten the distance for each session.
One subtlety about increasing weekly mileage is the wear and tear on your body, which has to be managed along the way. After recently straining my hip from overtraining, I realized I need to throw cross-training into the mix. So far, sit-ups and push-ups and interval training have been helpful in avoiding injury.
So it's a delicate balance between finding time in my schedule, assessing my aches and pains, and being mindful of the need to push on to the next level of my marathon training. For example, last week I logged extra days at the office. So three training sessions fit better into my schedule. But because I needed to reach a weekly mileage of 35 miles, each run was longer (12, 8 and 17). Because time was short, the other days I did sit-ups/push-ups and 30 minutes of interval training.
This week was a quieter work week, so I tried the alternate approach and mapped out a 5-day schedule of mostly 3-7 miles, the long run being 10m (considerably shorter than the previous week's long run of 17 miles). I also tacked sit-ups and push-ups and intervals onto two of those training days, along with the run. Total mileage= 35 miles.
Once again I marvel at the intellectual challenge of getting ready for a marathon. There's more to running 26.2 miles than meets the eye. And no one can figure this stuff out for you. It's a one-of-a-kind thing.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
Half-marathon success!
Though the feeling of glory has faded somewhat by now, I'm still feeling pretty happy about the half-marathon I ran three weeks ago.
It was the Dunkin' Run Arc Race (why did a donut shop sponsor a road race? I'm still wondering that myself), in my childhood stomping grounds of Liverpool, New York. My friend Brandye invited me to sign up, and at 9am on an overcast day we set out to see what the half-marathon had in store for us.
I had a strategy, based on the course I studied online, days before the race. It was simple, though I wrote it on a card tucked into my pocket. Basically, I'd start off easy. I knew ahead of time I'd grab a cup of fluids at each water station, alternating water and Gatorade. I needed to be at mile 5.5 in 53 minutes or less, to stay on pace. By mile 7.5, I needed to pick it up.
Everything played out well. The temperature was mild and overcast, I was carbo-loaded from a pasta dinner the night before (thanks Mom!), and my legs felt good (that taper the week before really worked). Early in the race I paced off two amiable guys ahead of me. I let others pass me without worry, and cruised by others who lagged on the hills. I met my targets at miles 5.5 and 7.5 and remembered what I'd written on my card: 'pick it up!'. So I did.
I finished strong, pumping my fist and smiling giddily as I slowed up afterward. My loving hubby plied me with fluids, brought my jacket to counter the post-race chill. Brandye's hubby congratulated me, and we all waited for Brandye to come in, not far behind me. It was a good day. I was grateful for my pace, the support from family and friends, and that I didn't hurt too badly. A success all around.
I let myself enjoy the thrill of success, not yet ready to think about the training coming down the pike.
It was the Dunkin' Run Arc Race (why did a donut shop sponsor a road race? I'm still wondering that myself), in my childhood stomping grounds of Liverpool, New York. My friend Brandye invited me to sign up, and at 9am on an overcast day we set out to see what the half-marathon had in store for us.
I had a strategy, based on the course I studied online, days before the race. It was simple, though I wrote it on a card tucked into my pocket. Basically, I'd start off easy. I knew ahead of time I'd grab a cup of fluids at each water station, alternating water and Gatorade. I needed to be at mile 5.5 in 53 minutes or less, to stay on pace. By mile 7.5, I needed to pick it up.
Everything played out well. The temperature was mild and overcast, I was carbo-loaded from a pasta dinner the night before (thanks Mom!), and my legs felt good (that taper the week before really worked). Early in the race I paced off two amiable guys ahead of me. I let others pass me without worry, and cruised by others who lagged on the hills. I met my targets at miles 5.5 and 7.5 and remembered what I'd written on my card: 'pick it up!'. So I did.
I finished strong, pumping my fist and smiling giddily as I slowed up afterward. My loving hubby plied me with fluids, brought my jacket to counter the post-race chill. Brandye's hubby congratulated me, and we all waited for Brandye to come in, not far behind me. It was a good day. I was grateful for my pace, the support from family and friends, and that I didn't hurt too badly. A success all around.
I let myself enjoy the thrill of success, not yet ready to think about the training coming down the pike.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Alcohol-free trial
Yesterday I finished my first ever 30-day alcohol-free trial. And today I celebrated with one Corona beer---that never tasted so good!
In early summer I'd toyed with eliminating alcohol from my marathon training diet, as most runners concede that drinking regularly can set back your training:
* The extra carbs are empty calories. You are what you eat, and every bite counts toward better or worse performance during the next day's run.
* Alcohol dyhydrates you, which can be dangerous for runners on a hot day.
* And booze affects the sleep cycle. Your body needs extra sleep, especially after long runs, to repair muscle tissue and handle joint inflammation.
Plus, too much mileage on too little sleep can weaken the immune system. And runners on a strict training schedule can't afford to get sick.
Also I didn't like that I was using alcohol as a crutch to 'unwind' after a hectic workday or to open up socially. I figured the time was right to see how I handled completely eliminating alcohol from my life, if only for one short month.
So what was it like to skip the drinks for thirty consecutive days? Surprisingly, I didn't miss it. Only rarely did I feel the urge to drink wine with dinner, or go out for a beer on a Saturday night. Socially it was tougher, especially when all around me folks were clinking their glasses and cheerfully pouring out more rounds.
Always, though, someone kindly remembered to refill my iced tea or water glass. And I may have even inspired some others to change their drinking habits---after hearing about my conscious decision to cut back my drinking, one friend stated aloud to a roomful of people how she'd like to deliberately skip, or choose, her nightly glass of wine too.
Aside from the obvious benefits to my training, what were other pluses with passing on the drinks?
For one, I got to try alternatives! A french bistro in NYC served imported elderflower-infused lemonade (who knew?), and I sampled iced green tea lemonade at a recent BBQ.
For another, I found I could concentrate more closely on the conversations going on around me, a much different experience than recalling a melange of images the day after a party, with no clue about what was actually said. I found I survived just fine without a prop in hand to get me through an evening. And as it turns out, I'm just as funny without the booze. :)
What comes next, I ask myself? Is it smart to continue eschewing alcohol while I'm training?
Yes, but with some moderation. What I've learned is the control is important to me: making a conscious decision to drink, and to know it's fine if I don't. And until marathon day, I'll drink less at each sitting, and for just a day or two each week.
For sure, after all this is over, I'll lift up a celebratory pint to toast my efforts. But ultimately I'd like to make the occasional drink special again.
In early summer I'd toyed with eliminating alcohol from my marathon training diet, as most runners concede that drinking regularly can set back your training:
* The extra carbs are empty calories. You are what you eat, and every bite counts toward better or worse performance during the next day's run.
* Alcohol dyhydrates you, which can be dangerous for runners on a hot day.
* And booze affects the sleep cycle. Your body needs extra sleep, especially after long runs, to repair muscle tissue and handle joint inflammation.
Plus, too much mileage on too little sleep can weaken the immune system. And runners on a strict training schedule can't afford to get sick.
Also I didn't like that I was using alcohol as a crutch to 'unwind' after a hectic workday or to open up socially. I figured the time was right to see how I handled completely eliminating alcohol from my life, if only for one short month.
So what was it like to skip the drinks for thirty consecutive days? Surprisingly, I didn't miss it. Only rarely did I feel the urge to drink wine with dinner, or go out for a beer on a Saturday night. Socially it was tougher, especially when all around me folks were clinking their glasses and cheerfully pouring out more rounds.
Always, though, someone kindly remembered to refill my iced tea or water glass. And I may have even inspired some others to change their drinking habits---after hearing about my conscious decision to cut back my drinking, one friend stated aloud to a roomful of people how she'd like to deliberately skip, or choose, her nightly glass of wine too.
Aside from the obvious benefits to my training, what were other pluses with passing on the drinks?
For one, I got to try alternatives! A french bistro in NYC served imported elderflower-infused lemonade (who knew?), and I sampled iced green tea lemonade at a recent BBQ.
For another, I found I could concentrate more closely on the conversations going on around me, a much different experience than recalling a melange of images the day after a party, with no clue about what was actually said. I found I survived just fine without a prop in hand to get me through an evening. And as it turns out, I'm just as funny without the booze. :)
What comes next, I ask myself? Is it smart to continue eschewing alcohol while I'm training?
Yes, but with some moderation. What I've learned is the control is important to me: making a conscious decision to drink, and to know it's fine if I don't. And until marathon day, I'll drink less at each sitting, and for just a day or two each week.
For sure, after all this is over, I'll lift up a celebratory pint to toast my efforts. But ultimately I'd like to make the occasional drink special again.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Long runs
Most online marathon training programs include 3 different kinds of runs: intervals/sprints, tempo runs, and long runs. Each contributes in its own way toward building cardiovascular capacity, joint resilience and muscle strength to eventually take you the full 26.2.
I've had experience using intervals and tempo runs to increase my running pace, but these long runs are new to me. And they present a host of problems that makes this part of the marathon training process as intellectual as it is physical.
Since we're talking about running for 100+ consecutive minutes during each long run, the question is what keeps your body going efficiently and effectively until the run is completed?
How much and how often should you drink? Do you walk while you're drinking, to avoid choking? Or keep running to stay on race schedule, taking small sips?
What do you eat along the way? Or is it better to just run faster and finish before the glucose levels crash?
What happens if you get a stitch in your side? Or your knee starts aching? Do you stop running and wait in a 10-minute line for the port-a-potty, or keep going even though you REALLY feel like you have to go to the bathroom?
What about the mental challenge of running for 2 or 3 hours at a stretch? So many people I've talked to tell me they don't run much because they get bored. I worried about that too at first, especially as my long runs consist of loops---I'm often traipsing down the same trails day after day.
You could write chapters about each of these subjects, and I don't know the answers. I'm sure it's different for each runner. So far I've found the best thing to do is run and just see what happens. Experiment, take notes, alter my technique and plan for future runs as I go. This is the fun part of training for me---fusing intelligent strategy with diligence and hustle to get ready for the race of my life.
I've had experience using intervals and tempo runs to increase my running pace, but these long runs are new to me. And they present a host of problems that makes this part of the marathon training process as intellectual as it is physical.
Since we're talking about running for 100+ consecutive minutes during each long run, the question is what keeps your body going efficiently and effectively until the run is completed?
How much and how often should you drink? Do you walk while you're drinking, to avoid choking? Or keep running to stay on race schedule, taking small sips?
What do you eat along the way? Or is it better to just run faster and finish before the glucose levels crash?
What happens if you get a stitch in your side? Or your knee starts aching? Do you stop running and wait in a 10-minute line for the port-a-potty, or keep going even though you REALLY feel like you have to go to the bathroom?
What about the mental challenge of running for 2 or 3 hours at a stretch? So many people I've talked to tell me they don't run much because they get bored. I worried about that too at first, especially as my long runs consist of loops---I'm often traipsing down the same trails day after day.
You could write chapters about each of these subjects, and I don't know the answers. I'm sure it's different for each runner. So far I've found the best thing to do is run and just see what happens. Experiment, take notes, alter my technique and plan for future runs as I go. This is the fun part of training for me---fusing intelligent strategy with diligence and hustle to get ready for the race of my life.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Diet
Several people have made comments about my physique. They've noticed it's changed recently, and their feedback is varied, and interesting. At the office, someone said I was too thin. It's true, I've lost body fat around my waistline, and have to pin all my work pants. My sister-in-law said I looked 'cut.' My mom thinks I might be taking this training too far.
She was worried because I looked 'too thin' (I wore a strappy summer top to a backyard BBQ, and she said my ribs were showing). To reassure her, I told her I'm not dieting, not in the conventional sense of trying to 'lose weight' by calorie restriction. This is true.
But when I thought about it later, I decided I am indeed dieting. I'm very carefully noticing (if not always successfully controlling), what I put in my mouth since I started training in April.
My 'diet' has swung from good to horrible these past three months. Good meaning I'm concentrating on ingesting certain foods that support my performance---more protein, less alcohol, less fried food, fewer cookies and chips.When I eat at home and the office, it's mostly vegetarian stews, homemade leftovers, Greek yogurt, and fruit.
Unfortunately, I've lost almost all control at three different family gatherings this spring.(At the BBQ I ate a whole bag of clams, a full lobster, a roll dipped in butter, lots of cheese and crackers, a couple handfuls of chips, two beers---and two pieces of birthday cake. Big pieces. Clearly my mom didn't take note of all that passed my lips that afternoon).
So I wonder as I approach the half-way mark in my training. Am I getting enough calories? If so, does this mean bigger portions, or more frequent healthy snacks throughout the day? Do I need to adjust the nutritional balance toward or away from carbs, protein, fats?
I don't know the answers. But I will do more reading. I'm tinkering a lot during this training, seeing what I need to do mentally and physically to get my body to run 26+ miles efficiently, without pain, at a satisfying pace.
She was worried because I looked 'too thin' (I wore a strappy summer top to a backyard BBQ, and she said my ribs were showing). To reassure her, I told her I'm not dieting, not in the conventional sense of trying to 'lose weight' by calorie restriction. This is true.
But when I thought about it later, I decided I am indeed dieting. I'm very carefully noticing (if not always successfully controlling), what I put in my mouth since I started training in April.
My 'diet' has swung from good to horrible these past three months. Good meaning I'm concentrating on ingesting certain foods that support my performance---more protein, less alcohol, less fried food, fewer cookies and chips.When I eat at home and the office, it's mostly vegetarian stews, homemade leftovers, Greek yogurt, and fruit.
Unfortunately, I've lost almost all control at three different family gatherings this spring.(At the BBQ I ate a whole bag of clams, a full lobster, a roll dipped in butter, lots of cheese and crackers, a couple handfuls of chips, two beers---and two pieces of birthday cake. Big pieces. Clearly my mom didn't take note of all that passed my lips that afternoon).
So I wonder as I approach the half-way mark in my training. Am I getting enough calories? If so, does this mean bigger portions, or more frequent healthy snacks throughout the day? Do I need to adjust the nutritional balance toward or away from carbs, protein, fats?
I don't know the answers. But I will do more reading. I'm tinkering a lot during this training, seeing what I need to do mentally and physically to get my body to run 26+ miles efficiently, without pain, at a satisfying pace.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Facts versus Feelings
Monday's run wasn't easy: it was hot outside, I felt light-headed, my breathing seemed shallow, my legs felt heavy. In short, I FELT ill. And to make matters worse, a perky young thing sprinted past me, a serene smile on her face. Which made me feel old.
So what did these feelings 'help' me conclude? That I couldn't or shouldn't finish my long run that day.
Say what?
Thankfully, a small voice of reason piped up before I quit. Now wait a minute here, it said. You have 5.5 months before your date with a marathon. And you haven't even finished a 10-mile run yet. You feel hot, tired, and slow. And now you feel cranky too. That's too bad, but you know what? You still have to run a marathon. Your training schedule calls for 7 miles today--not tomorrow, and certainly not sometime later in the week.
This was a FACT.
I needed to push aside my feelings in the present, and focus instead on my longterm goal of running a marathon. So what did I actually DO?
My imagination was getting the better of me, so I trusted the facts: You did a 7 mile run already this spring, I told myself as I panted up the hill. So what makes you think you 'can't' do it today? As hot and tired as you feel right now, and despite the fact that you're not looking as perky as the next runner out there today, the truth is you've never fainted during a run. Never. And even if you did, so what? Chances are you wouldn't collapse unconscious and alone, like you imagine. You'd sit on the grass to the side of the path, catch your breath, then walk home.
OK, so I'd decided to keep moving. But I still FELT like crap. So what could I do to finish this run without crying, or worse, crawling home to my front door? I knew I was physically not my finest that day, so I slowed my pace but kept my form, and focused my mind on my breathing.
And I rechecked the facts: when I glanced at my watch, lo and behold, I was keeping good time.
A healthier conclusion? Feelings are misleading. Don't give in to them. Stick to the facts when training for a marathon.
So what did these feelings 'help' me conclude? That I couldn't or shouldn't finish my long run that day.
Say what?
Thankfully, a small voice of reason piped up before I quit. Now wait a minute here, it said. You have 5.5 months before your date with a marathon. And you haven't even finished a 10-mile run yet. You feel hot, tired, and slow. And now you feel cranky too. That's too bad, but you know what? You still have to run a marathon. Your training schedule calls for 7 miles today--not tomorrow, and certainly not sometime later in the week.
This was a FACT.
I needed to push aside my feelings in the present, and focus instead on my longterm goal of running a marathon. So what did I actually DO?
My imagination was getting the better of me, so I trusted the facts: You did a 7 mile run already this spring, I told myself as I panted up the hill. So what makes you think you 'can't' do it today? As hot and tired as you feel right now, and despite the fact that you're not looking as perky as the next runner out there today, the truth is you've never fainted during a run. Never. And even if you did, so what? Chances are you wouldn't collapse unconscious and alone, like you imagine. You'd sit on the grass to the side of the path, catch your breath, then walk home.
OK, so I'd decided to keep moving. But I still FELT like crap. So what could I do to finish this run without crying, or worse, crawling home to my front door? I knew I was physically not my finest that day, so I slowed my pace but kept my form, and focused my mind on my breathing.
And I rechecked the facts: when I glanced at my watch, lo and behold, I was keeping good time.
A healthier conclusion? Feelings are misleading. Don't give in to them. Stick to the facts when training for a marathon.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Bugs and blossoms
I'm back running this week after a few days of gluttony in Quebec, followed by a six-day marathon work week. So I thought I'd be a wobbly mess on the running trails these last few workouts.
Somehow though, I squeezed in four days of running, capped by a long run on Sunday at a really good pace. One thing I'm learning as my training advances is that you never know how you'll feel on any given day. 'Never assume' is my latest mantra---it applies to lots of things in life, including running.
Today's seven-mile run featured a bug in the eye at mile 2. Wonderful, I thought, wringing my hands mentally as I waited for an allergic reaction to kick in. Would this be the end of my first long run in two weeks, I worried? Should I stop at home half-way through to grab some artificial tears and rinse it out? Thirty seconds into my pity party a strapping young guy pushing a running stroller passed me like I was standing still. I swear his three-year old strapped in the seat giggled as they raced by.
So I let that sucker smother itself in the corner of my eye and kept going. And picked up the pace.
By mile four I was in the groove, marveling at the knee-high grass along the trail, just from one week's growth. We'd had a lot of rain lately, but the soaking kind. No puddles.
Blossoms from the dogwoods, crabapples, flowering cherries lay thick on the ground. I crumpled them underfoot, a carpet of petals, fragrant and fresh. Life is good, I thought.
A good run. Time to ice the knees.
Total mileage: 17 miles
Somehow though, I squeezed in four days of running, capped by a long run on Sunday at a really good pace. One thing I'm learning as my training advances is that you never know how you'll feel on any given day. 'Never assume' is my latest mantra---it applies to lots of things in life, including running.
Today's seven-mile run featured a bug in the eye at mile 2. Wonderful, I thought, wringing my hands mentally as I waited for an allergic reaction to kick in. Would this be the end of my first long run in two weeks, I worried? Should I stop at home half-way through to grab some artificial tears and rinse it out? Thirty seconds into my pity party a strapping young guy pushing a running stroller passed me like I was standing still. I swear his three-year old strapped in the seat giggled as they raced by.
So I let that sucker smother itself in the corner of my eye and kept going. And picked up the pace.
By mile four I was in the groove, marveling at the knee-high grass along the trail, just from one week's growth. We'd had a lot of rain lately, but the soaking kind. No puddles.
Blossoms from the dogwoods, crabapples, flowering cherries lay thick on the ground. I crumpled them underfoot, a carpet of petals, fragrant and fresh. Life is good, I thought.
A good run. Time to ice the knees.
Total mileage: 17 miles
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