Monthly Archives: November 2019

Running Diary: Sunday morning 5

After a week off to rest my wonky hamstring, I finally felt like I could run this morning.  I had three group runs to choose from.  The first was a five miler that will be the same course for the Thanksgiving Run I signed up for.  I was planning on going until I noticed that it was at 3pm.  I am much more of a morning runner, so when someone from the Beginner Trail Running Group posted a morning run at Cherokee Park, I switched my plans.  That run would start at 7:30 and if trails were too muddy, then it would turn into a road run.  Then, one of my running friends asked if anyone would like to join her in Cherokee Park at 8:30.  An extra hour in bed?  Sold!

I picked out my clothes the night before, so this morning went smooth.  Of course I forgot my hankie and I forgot to put on lip balm but whatever.  The “feels like” temperature was 30 degrees.  A little colder than I prefer, still it was fine. 

I ran the .80 mile to the designated meeting spot and realized how fucked I was.  It’s really sad how much stamina and conditioning one can lose in a short amount of time.  In the two months since Urban Bourbon Half Marathon, I had only run 38 miles, 13 of which were one run.  Not too good.  And it showed.  Ragged breathing, tired instantly, absolutely hating everything about running.  My first mile is usually an exercise in telling myself it gets easier.  This almost mile was pure trash. 

My friends (there was another running friend with her dog) got there right at the same time as I did.  The first thing I did was confirm that this would be with intervals and an easy run.  One of my friends hadn’t run much since she completed the New York City Marathon, so she reassured me that yes, we would do the usual 2 minute run, 30 second walk intervals that we often run together and yes, no one was looking to set any records. 

It ended up being great.  It was nice to chat (or try to chat as I suck at running and talking) and have company.  The hills were hard, but I didn’t die.  The organization that manages Cherokee Park has just started this program where they make Cherokee Park pedestrian only on the last Sunday of the month.  It was a little early and quite chilly, so there weren’t a bunch of people, but I have to say not having to worry about cars was nice.  This will be awesome when it starts getting closer to spring.  Hopefully the program will still be going then.

When it was time to part ways, we stopped to take a group photo and chatted a bit longer about marathon running and training.  I haven’t decided to upgrade Kentucky Derby Festival Mini to the full marathon, but I think in January when the Norton Health Training Program starts, I will train as if I’m running the full.  See how it goes before committing.  

After that I ran home, for a total of 5.2 miles, average about 10 ½ minute mile.  Nice easy morning run that felt hard as hell, but I know I can get back to where I was two months ago if I keep at it.  My hamstring was fine during and afterward.  Got home and stretched and was really pleased, but over the day it started getting sore again.  I was doing chores, lots of up and down stairs, but I’m not sure if it was that or the running that did it.  Unless it gets worse, I’m just going to keep on.  Maybe do a short run Tuesday if it feels right, join some trail runners on Wednesday, and Thanksgiving five miler on Thursday.  Friday I’m volunteering at an Irish Dance event, so that will be a non-running day.  I’m happy to be back in the saddle.   

Race Report: Harrods Creek Trail Bash 5K & 10K

So I started running for real last summer.  After a while, I found out about Trail Running.  I thought there was only running running, not running in the woods or running offroad.  Trail running seemed amazing and awesome and kinda forbidden, like it was only for the cool kids.  Then I realized that at least in my running group, there are no cool kids.  There’s just a big sand box where everyone is welcome, no matter what.  Occasionally someone from some other sand box may wander by and tell us we’re doing it wrong, but we resoundingly tell them to leave our toys alone and go back to being miserable with the other gatekeepers.

Two Sunday races in a row and so different.  Last week I was dreading the Louisville Half Marathon like a root canal.  I hadn’t had a decent run in weeks and was worried about lack of training and healthy living in general and sad hamstring specifically.*  The night before the Harrod’s Creek Trail Bash, I was excited to get back out there.   

*it went okay—I finished with a better time than I thought possible, but I could barely walk afterward

Yesterday morning I went out with the Alpha Run meeting of my women’s running group.  I ran three Seneca Loops (1.2 miles per loop) with the other people (mostly post Monumental Marathoners) who wanted to take it easy.  I wanted to run, but not aggravate my stupid hamstring.  We had a fun lovely run.  I adore my running group.  My wonky leg did not seem to be any worse after a little over three and a half miles at sexy pace.  I decided I would be just fine for the trail race. 

Harrod’s Creek Park is in Prospect Kentucky.  It’s a hidden gem of trails and a creek, snuggled in a subdivision.  I ran there several weeks ago with a few other women from my trail running group.  The trails were rocky and full of tree roots, which were all covered by a thick blanket of leaves.  Kinda scary but I managed to not fall.  I am not the most experienced trail runner, and even though I grew up in a rural area and spent a lot of time in the woods as a kid, I am as an adult still pretty intimidated by the thought of falling in the woods.

The race this morning was a 5K and a 10K.  It’s the first in a three-part trail bash series.  The next race is in late December, half and quarter marathon distances.  I signed on with the short series.  I hate cold weather and did not want to commit to training for a longer race if there was a chance the temps were frigid.  This Wisconsin girl left all her cold tolerance up north.  This was my third trail race; the first two were a five miler in May (it was muddy and crazy and incredibly fun) and a quarter marathon in mid-July (it was a million degrees but still so fun). 

It was quite chilly, but I was dressed for it.  I’ve got a North Face jacket that Spouse gave me for Christmas years ago.  I wore it some over the years, but it has become my best friend for winter running.  Caught up with friends from the running group, including a few women I hadn’t seen in a while, so the pre-race chilly standing around was really nice.  Got the group photo, off we went!

The race was fine and fun.  I felt my hamstring almost immediately, but it was never what I would describe as pain.  It didn’t slow me down at all, not that I was going fast.  Those leaves that scared me a few weeks ago had scattered or been broken down, so the obstacles in the path were clearly visible.  Some good hills, slippery bridges, frosty ground.  It was a good time.  Three miles went by quickly, then I hung out and chatted with my running friends for a while after.  The morning was sunny and it was just overall a fabulous day for an early run.  Each finisher got an awesome mug to take home. The race t-shirts were cute.  Age group winners’ prizes were super cool bird houses.  Really neat race.

Race Report: Louisville Half Marathon

I had signed up for 2019 Indy Women’s and Urban Bourbon Half Marathons months before those races. They were long-term goals that I set for myself last year. I signed up for this race on a whim a few weeks ago mostly because a bunch of women from my running group were running and pacing it. FOMO is apparently a motivator for me nowadays.

So Urban Bourbon Half Marathon was three weekends ago. As I wrote about in an earlier post, it was a great time, so fun, so perfect how prepared I was and how the things I couldn’t control turned out just fine. This race was a bit different.

I’ve had left hamstring soreness since UBHM, though I noticed it several days after, so I’m not sure it was because of that race or something else. Could be too much sitting; could be my obnoxious pulling dogs. Consequently I had only run a few times in the past three weeks. In addition, I hadn’t been keeping up with cross training like I should, eating a lot of shitty food, not drinking enough water. So in the week leading up to this race, I just generally felt not great and was full of ambivalence.

I simply didn’t want to run it. Mostly because it could potentially be a shitshow, for above reasons. Also I didn’t want to make whatever was going on with the hamstring* worse. The icing on the Meh Cake was a friend’s fiftieth birthday party at a local bar the night before the race. This party would be full of close friends and people I like whom I hadn’t seen in a while. I knew I would either leave before I was ready or stay longer than I should.

*back of the knee, feels more like weakness rather than pain; gets worse throughout the day, especially after a dog walk; consulted dr google and got more confused; had a different chronic hamstring injury 12 years ago and would really like to not deal with that bullshit ever again

Also the weather forecast was annoying, specifically the temperature. I know how to dress for 50 and above. I know how to dress for when it’s actually cold. The 40s though. It’s not rocket science, but the right number of the right layers continues to baffle me. Especially in a race, where there’s a bunch of standing around in the beginning. When home, I just leave and I’m warmer in a couple blocks, and I typically only go for 30-60 minutes. Being chilly before the race, then overdressed for more than two hours of running is not fun. So Saturday evening I picked out some clothes and spent the rest of the night second guessing myself. Like I lost sleep and had stupid Dressed-Wrong Dreams. The amount of bourbon I drank at the party didn’t help, and in general I don’t sleep well on the night before a race.

The dogs got me up earlier than I wanted, but I wasn’t asleep anyway. Coffee, English muffin, half a leftover Cuban sandwich; pooping happened. I got dressed in what I had originally planned and left. The Parklands of Floyds Fork is this huge and beautiful park system in eastern Jefferson County. It’s really four connected parks, about 4000 acres, with woods, trails, creeks, roads for biking and running and walking. I wish it were closer than the 30 minute drive. I’ve run and raced here before. It’s nice, though the concrete road isn’t the friendliest for runners. This particular race is actually marathon, half marathon, and 10K distances. All start together, run the same direction, and have different turn around points.

I thought about downgrading to the 10K in the interest of my sore hamstring but decided not to. Probably because it was not horrible all the time. If I had been in constant pain, I probably would have downgraded. I would like to say I would have not run at all if the pain was that bad, but in reality I tend not to do that. I didn’t pay $80 to not run dammit!

Once I got there, I found M/SRTT (Moms Run This Town/She Runs This Town), my running group. Greeted people, talked about goals, injuries, clothing, pooping, snot rockets–ya know, runner stuff. Got in the group picture. I had a friend pacing the 2:20 finish, and she encouraged me to run with her. I had my doubts about keeping up that fast. Even though I had just finished with 2:06 a few weeks before, I did not feel good enough that I could get close to that. A couple other women from the group were pacing 2:45. I was planning on running with them and having a good time, but when it came time to corral, I was kind of in the middle of both pacers. I decided to just stay put, somewhere between 2:20 and 2:45 and see what happened.

We started off pretty tightly packed. I started slow, testing to see what my hamstring would tell me. It told me I was stupid. But! It didn’t tell me I was fucking stupid, so I just kept running. Finally the crowd started to thin a little, and I settled into a rhythm around mile 2. There happened to be a hill right here. More or less straight up. Like you see it and think it’s a joke.

So one thing different about this race is intervals. Normally I do intervals. When I started running last year after surgery, I needed to start slow and also I really wanted stick with it. I had done Couch to 5K the year before (didn’t stick) and my favorite part of that program was the middle weeks, when you run for several minutes, then walk for a minute, repeat. I read up on the Galloway Method, a run-walk-run program designed to prevent injury, and decided to try that. I used it for the last few weeks of June, when I was being gentle on myself during recovery. It got me through the early weeks of running, when historically I would have quit. It got me through the heat of summer, when a short break to walk help me calm down enough to keep going. I played with frequency and length of intervals and settled on 2 minutes run, 30 seconds walk as my goldilocks spot. This training got me through my first half marathon, and even though I’d recovered from surgery and seemed to have integrated running into my lifestyle, I felt like if it was working for me, why change? This fall I started skipping intervals, especially if I was running down a hill, and shortening them. So I was doing like a 18-26 second walk and correspondingly longer run. It was all fine. This race…not sure why, I hadn’t planned on doing it this way, but I didn’t run intervals. The first mile of a race, I often don’t do the walks. It’s crowded, my heart rate is fine. All good. Same for this race, but then I ran the second mile. Maybe because my pace was slower I thought I should go for it. Then that hill. If there was a time and place to start walking intervals, it was looming in front of me. But I kept running. I ran up the hill. And didn’t die! So I ran the third mile and kept running.

The giant hill was followed by a long less-steep climb, then a long wooded downhill with occasional flattening out spots. By this point the people in the lead for the 10K had turned around and were now running toward us. This is where I was less satisfied with the race organization, about which until this point I had absolutely no complaints. The road had narrowed and there were no cones. Tons of people not moving over, getting in each other’s way. I’m sure very irritating for the folks in the front of the 10K pack who were hoping for a top 3 finish or whatever. Several people were forced into the grass, others cut people off. Could have been ugly. I just hate seeing so little self-awareness.

Anyway, finally got past the 10K turn around, so there were no longer people running at us. I passed the 4:45 marathon pacer (2:23 half pacer for those not inclined to do the math) and saw my friend pacing 2:20 up ahead. I ran a little faster. I realized my hamstring was fine. Twingy, but not painful. I caught up with her and the other 2:20 pacer around mile 5. I was nice to run with pacers. It was also trippy to realize that this was the farthest I’d ever run straight, no walking. And I still had eight miles to go! I felt good for a while. Chatting with the other people hanging with the 2:20 pacers. Giving myself little pats on the back for not walking. Happy that problematic hamstring was not asserting itself. We got to the half marathon turn around! Only another six and a half miles!

And then, like clock work, the Mile 8 Struggle Bus showed up. For every half I’ve run, somewhere between mile 8 and mile 10, I want to give up. Whether it’s tired legs, tired everything, racing heart, hungry tummy, burning lungs, low energy, whatever, I find myself saying “let’s just walk, running is hot bullshit” It’s totally a mental game at this point. For Filly Women’s and KDF, it was low energy, so I experimented with adding runner candy (Honey Stinger Energy Chews). This worked for UBHM and a few long runs. This race though, I had been eating a few pieces every 40 minutes, which had worked for me before. It was less low energy and more just super tired legs. My hamstring wasn’t necessarily that bad; more like all of both legs were fucking done.

I kept going though! Around mile 10 we were back into the long wooded area, but this time we got to experience it going up hill. Joy. I walked twice, about 10 seconds each time, because I wanted to get my heart rate down a little. These were the only two times I walked the entire 13 miles. I caught back up with the 2:20 pacers. I stuck with them and their motivation really kept me in it. Around mile 11, the huge downhill, my knees started to hurt. Around mile 12, I needed a toilet. I was seriously afraid I’d shit my pants otherwise. Luckily there was a portapotty just a handful of yards off the course. I lost at least a minute, but it was absolutely necessary.

Back on the road! One mile left! It was not a fun mile. I was no longer running with my pacing friend. My legs hurt. I was tired. Finally the end. I did not sprint to finish, but I did manage to get my arms up like I wasn’t about to crawl the last yards.

I look happy because I don’t have to run anymore. Maybe ever.

My time was 2:22. Not the best, but way better than I thought I was capable of. Hell, I didn’t know I was capable of running for more than a few miles without walking, much less a half marathon. I didn’t see anyone I knew around the finishers’ area. There was Derby Pie as an end-of-race perk, but it was so sweet, I could only choke down a few bites. There was also beer (provided by Goodwood Brewery, a race sponsor), but at that point I think anything other than plain water would have made me vomit. I just wanted to go home and lie in a bath tub full of hot epsom salt water.

So that’s what I did. I was moving like a 90 year old. The walk back to the car was comical. Very stiff, very sore. My hamstring didn’t seem any worse than every other sore, agonized part of my body. I ate the other half of the leftover Cuban while the tub was filling up and had a bottle of water mixed with electrolyte replacement. The soak in the tub was perfect.

I ran three half marathons in six weeks, five this year. One was a PR and one was with no walking intervals, something I wasn’t sure I could do. I’m kinda proud of myself and my training. I look forward to all the shorter races I have lined up over the winter, mostly just fun stuff nearby, a few of which I’ve gotten Spouse to sign up to run with me. Lots of group runs with M/SRTT. I have some trail races coming up too. And a Thanksgiving Morning race, which I have always been opposed to in theory and, until now, in practice. I guess I’m a real runner, for good or ill. Now I just need to rest this stupid hamstring. At least it’s taken my mind off my stupid fat thumb.