Reduct: How do you define success?

As discussed in my prior post from three years ago: I was once asked a question during a job interview: How do you define success? At that moment, I recalled my marathon experiences, so I answered the question by describing when I felt successful. I prepared for my marathon races with a training schedule and a meal plan, and I followed both as though they were prescribed by God. As my training progressed, I recorded the desired results, which showed a decreasing heart rate sustaining greater and greater distances traveled in consistently increasing speeds. I was even given a shiny souvenir of my success through each finisher's medal received.

Though I answered the question truthfully, I knew it wasn't exactly right. Six years later, I think I have a better answer. I now define success through the response of two questions: are you well? and are you happy? If one can truthfully affirm the first question, then the second question can be affirmed with ease, and being able to say yes to both questions thereby indicates success. The trick is to define wellness, which I believe is composed of three elements: spirit, health, and fitness.

The element of spirit covers topics such as faith, mentality, mindfulness, self-awareness, and relationships. A myriad of metrics can be applied to the element of fitness, such as weight, blood pressure, body mass index, resting heart rate, and VO2 max. The area where the elements of spirit and fitness overlap reveal the element of health. Since the beginning of this blog, I learned about each element of wellness independently, and over time, I realized this paradigm to express wellness matters within one's control. Exogenous events, such as the death of a loved one, a cancer diagnosis, or a car accident, can severely impact one's wellness, but navigating through those situations with wellness in mind still requires accessing these three elements. In this way, success is related to your wellness given your circumstances, or "centris paribus" as an economist would say.

Within this paradigm, I would access that my time spent on running marathons provided success in the area of fitness while also providing some exposure to matters of the spirit, but I was not actually well. My faith was not yet formed, and I suffered from migraines on a monthly basis. I had relationships that were difficult and damaging, and I did not feel as though I was progressing in my goals. I now believe I used marathon running as a way to escape from problems that were difficult to define and without any real solutions that were acceptable to me. So I desperately tried to achieve success and happiness through marathon running.

Six years ago, I answered the interview question without fully understanding the depth of my self-deception. For many years, I tried to recall the person that I was when I ran marathons as a means to regain a sense of success. I would commit and recommit to a training schedule and track the pace of my running courses, but it was never sustainable. At some point during my training, I would forgo a run and opt to watch TV on my couch dressed in my pajamas with a pound of Trader Joe's chocolate bar at my disposal. As the weight accumulated, the self-deception would ebb and flow. I would find myself at some unacceptable dress size and give the training schedule another try. I would progress nicely for a short while, but something eventually would divert my attention and the cycle repeats.

No longer near the form required to train for a marathon, but with the three elements of wellness freshly emerged in my mind, I recently began building my cardio base. I started with interval training through Spin classes, and I challenged my patience and endurance by regularly running a 6-mile course. As my heart rate began to stabilize at different exertion levels, I started to lift weights and became mindful of what I was eating. I decided that fitness may preclude the chocolate bar from my diet, but wellness mandates three squares of chocolate whenever it was urgently needed, but only after eating my veggies.

I now exercise a minimum of 45 minutes a day, 5 or 6 days weeks. I normally far exceed this goal because exercise itself also lifts my spirit. I've lost close to 20 pounds within three months, gained a few worthwhile relationships, and I am within striking distance to consider training for a full marathon. Maybe it is fair to say that I have already started training for a marathon, but I'm not yet sure when I will be at the starting line. Under the present circumstances, or centris paribus if preferred, I am at peace, which may be the best place to breed success. So I retract my final statements in my prior post - no new identity required, and Overpronator will resume.

New Beginnings

At a job interview a few years ago, I was asked if I considered myself successful. Overpronator immediately came to mind, and I answered with the highlights from my marathon training past. I answered that I felt most successful during my marathon training days. To my mind, I was successful when I checked off each item on my training program and meal plan, and I saw my endurance and speed increase week by week. Crossing the finish line with a new PR was satisfying, but the feeling of success was most present after completing a speed workout or a tempo run after a long day of work.

I marvel at my younger self as recorded by the contents of this blog. As I think of all the workouts and maniacal self-discipline I endured to cross each finish line, I realize that I think of Overpronator as a separate person. I am very proud of her, and I even wish I could be more like her, but I know that I have moved on. I flipped through a book that is part of series called Elf-help (which I found cute), and the following quote explains why I unknowingly decided that I am no longer Overpronator.

If you’re always pushing toward greater success, achievement, control, perfection, and efficiency, you’re overrating greatness – as well as your own human capacities. You’re great because of who you are, not because of what you can do.

I feel sorry for the sad person I was when I began my separation with Overpronator, even though I tried desperately to get back into her mindset and reclaim her body. It took a few years, but I know that I will never be Overpronator again. The lessons I learned as Overpronator is still with me, particularly as I venture further into my current active lifestyle. My body is familiar with the process of progress, and in those moment, Overpronator will be with me.

This is not to say that I will never run another marathon, nor does it mean that my goal to run in the Boston Marathon is forever gone. I even held a lofty goal of being an Ironman close to my heart, which may still happen. I am simply no longer solely focused on my training schedule, meal plan, speed and endurance metrics, or the muscle to fat body composition – my approach to fitness has changed. Perhaps, more importantly, my concept of success has changed. Success is no longer about attaining quantifiable objectives, but instead, has an abstract quality best described as sustainable happiness.

I will leave this blog in place because there is content and material here that may prove helpful for the community dedicated to distance running, myself included. This, however, will be my last entry as Overpronator, and my new identity is yet to be determined.

Namaste friends, till we meet again.

Regeneration

I heard somewhere from some unidentified source that you are an entirely new person once every seven years. The idea is that every single cell in your body is different, or rather, new, every seven years. For me, and I imagine as with most Americans, this concept carried very little significance until the third and fourth cycle of regeneration. This thought is based on adulthood legally beginning at 18 years of age, and prototypical American culture allowing young adults to extend their parental dependence through their early 20s via undergraduate studies.

In retrospect, I believe that my life was relatively stable by 21, though the term stable may not be accurate. At the time, I remember feeling like a leaf blowing in the wind. Though it was not a particularly comfortable place, I now realize that I was actually a young leaf, one that was green and hydrated. As for the blowing in the wind, it was really more like a floating in the wind, but I was extremely eager to be firmly planted somewhere … fast.

During that third cycle, and the beginnings of the fourth, everything seemed to be progressing in the direction of being planted. Then the tail end of the fourth cycle brought a terrible, terrible wind. By 28, everything I had hoped and planned was redefined, and I found myself engaged in a painful renewal process under conditions of sheer duress and an absolute lack of alternatives.

I was stripped of everything that was old and familiar, and I landed somewhere else entirely. At the very beginning of the fifth cycle, I was a weathered crumbling leaf being ripped and flung about by a cold dry wind. I suppose this might be considered the final phases of maturation, or perhaps it was more of a focused study on the solitary aspects of true independence. No matter the nomenclature, it was not and is still not a pleasant process.

Currently, I am in the middle of the fifth cycle, and everything around me is in fact entirely new. I look at photos of people that I consider as part of my support network (part friends, part colleagues), and their entry into my life are all relatively recent. The people prior to my fourth cycle have virtually disappeared, save a lingering few whose lives I witness via social media and nothing more.

I am … or have become even more so … a solitary figure. I have always tended to be a solitary person mostly by circumstance, and only sometimes by choice. It just seems strange that my cellular regenerations have made me more and more alone. Or have I simply purged myself of people that were detrimental to my internal growth, and I had previously surrounded myself with confining characters?

I am not quite sure about any of these musing, but I feel an odd sense of external happiness. To put it simply, I like the way things are in my life. Each day does offer some kind of purpose, but internally, I feel a type of depressed anxiety. I don’t feel particularly lonely in my quasi-solitude. I am involved in a committed relationship that has varying levels of co-dependence that is more dictated by a given situation rather than psychological need. If anything, it would seem that I am progressing on a truer course than I was during the third cycle. However, the internal warmth and feeling of safety is absent in the midst of this fifth cycle.

Does this mean that I am now truly jaded? Or perhaps I am being overly cautious and not allowing myself to internally recline in a more relaxed state of confidence? I don’t have anything that would even begin to lead me to something that looks like a partial answer to these questions. I just hope that by the end of the fifth cycle, and just prior to me staring down the sixth, this maniacal wind will finally cease, and I will have finally planted roots somewhere. I pray that somewhere is close, incredibly close, virtually exactly where I am now. I don’t think I can handle another wind with any measurable degree of ferocity.

Brooks Trance 8

I took the new shoes out for two runs. After the first run, I was disheartened and wanted to relegate them as treadmill shoes. They seemed flimsy on the first run, and I desperately wished that I had purchased a pair of Kayanos instead.

I took them out one more time yesterday, thinking that I would stop by Jack Rabbit after work during the week if my first assessment held true.

The second run was a bit surprising. I didn't notice the road as much as my first run, and my arches weren't as fatigued. I did wear a different pair of socks (a pair made by Under Armour), which probably changed the feel entirely.

So, I am happy to report that these shoes, with the right pair of socks, do pass go. I just hope they last.

In any event, I think I'll have to pick up a pair of Kayanos anyway. I'll use them as an alternate since I've been wearing my Asics Gel GT-2120 Trail as my default walking shoes around NYC.

Now ... I just need to commit to my next race.

With New Shoes, It Feels Like 2005

I have no idea what my body fat percentage is, but I have a hunch that is something scary. Medically, I think I'm at the obese end of the spectrum. At my physical, my new doctor was incredibly kind and gentle. She simply won't confirm or deny the bad stuff. Instead, she only gives encouragement. She simply said that I know what I need to do, and I just have to go and do it, when I'm ready.

Mentally, I know I can get back to my size 4 /6 self, and I know what it takes to get there. So I don't feel overwhelmed, but I don't think I'm entirely ready to go at Project Weight Loss full force.

I am going to reintroduce physical activity back into daily life. Even if it means waking up before the sun does. I already started to take my vitamins again, and I went shoe shopping today at my new local running store.

This place actually has a camera set up at the back end of the treadmill, allowing you to view a digital video of your stride as you run. Since your gait can change with time, I showed up completely open minded to what they would say. Unsurprisingly, after video analysis, I am ... an overpronator.

I was given a choice of three running shoes. A trusty pair of Asics Kayano, another pair by Saucony, and a pair of Brooks Trance 8. I was tempted to go with the tried and true Kayano. I was in love with them since 2005, and Runner's World gave them Editors Choice in 2008 and 2009.

There was something about the Brooks that I couldn't shake off (pictured above with a Nathan Shoe Pocket attached on the left shoe). It felt so light, and my heals stayed firmly in place. It truly felt like a glove for my feet. They were so comfortable that it made me nervous; I thought that perhaps it was more of a treadmill shoe than a road shoe.

The sale woman assured me that wasn't the case, so I had to go against my inclination. They did not win Editor's Choice from RW, but this is what they have to say ...

Runner's World Shoe Lab Test Results
The new Trance 8 is the first Brooks shoe built using biodegradable midsole foam, which means that it lasts only about 20 years in a landfill--versus the 1,000 years it takes most running-shoe soles to break down. In our tests, this new foam performed as well as the previous versions. Some testers commented on how well the Trance held their feet, while others found that the laces were difficult to adjust. Recommended for runners with normal to low arches looking for a shoe that's more environmentally friendly than most.

Who would have known that I opted for the green choice out of the mix of stability shoes? The thing is, as with most green choices, they tend to fall apart under heavy intense usage. For example, biodegradable road signage. It doesn't even sound like it would be a good idea. Buying green isn't always the greener option if you consume twice or three times as much product to handle the duration of your needs. I am now a "heavy" runner, so I am skeptical about a biodegradable midsole carrying this obese person for 500 miles. Well, we'll just have to see. Hopefully, I'll be taking off tomorrow morning. If not, I will be antsy through out the entire work day before I get to go for a ride in my new orange shoes.

Lehigh Valley Half Marathon

Let me just start off with the fact that I do not recommend any of the following activities:

1. Going from months of complete sedentary life to finishing a half marathon.
2. Being an out-of-towner, showing up at a bar full of out-of-towners and drinking whatever beverages the cute bartender brings over your way, even if it is free of charge.
3. I should really emphasize item 2.
4. I should also add over here that item 2 should NEVER EVER happen on the day before a long run, like, a half marathon.
5. Item 2 should really NEVER EVER happen on the day before a half marathon ESPECIALLY if said half marathon is your first run of the season.

So basically, I showed up in Allentown, PA this past Saturday afternoon for the race packet pick up and expo so that I could run in the half on Sunday. After I was done with the race things, I went over to the Allentown Brew Works for a quick little lunch. I sat at the bar and order their pulled pork sandwich and asked the bartender for a beverage to go with. He thought their Pilsener would go well, so that was what I had ... on my own volition.

While I sat there, I watched the game (Mets vs Atlanta) and sent a few text messages over to H. He decided not to come with me this year, and this was my first race without him, so I was missing him a little.

Since it was still quiet at the restaurant, and being alone, the bartender gave me some company and threw a sample of their Wit over my way. I freakin' LOVED the Steelgaarden Wit. When this became known to the bartender, I received a few more glasses of the Wit.

After a little while, the ladies next to me had ordered a very pretty mixed drink - it was a vibrant shade of pink. Seeing my intrigue, the bartender gave me a bit of the pretty pink concoction - a watermelon martini. It was incredibly tasty.

By now, it was closing in on 4 o'clock, and I desperately needed some water. So after paying my tab, and having pinky swore that I would return for dinner (the Roadrunner Pasta had me all sorts of intrigued), I stumbled my way back to my hotel room.

And there I remained for the rest of the night. I eventually started to puke, and it basically didn't stop until well past midnight. Somewhere between drinking bottles and bottles of water and puking, I had managed to place a wake up call in the early morning. After five hours of sleep, I woke up with the headache and nausea entirely gone. I decided to run in the half just for the sake of finishing and to ignore my time entirely.

That was exactly what I did. I'm not going to mention my time here because it is incredibly slow, but considering the fact that I did not train, and having had the worst hang over I have EVER had ... the mere act of finishing 13.1 miles (and not being sick afterwards might I add) isn't too shabby.

And a note to the cute bartender - I'm so sorry for not coming back, though I tried my very best. The thing is ... the Porcelain God just would not let me leave his alter.

Philadelphia Marathon

Each time I go to Philadelphia with a lot of uncertainty, I leave that City with the uncertainty left behind. In 2006, I showed up at the Jefferson Hospital Half Marathon in Philadelphia after being thoroughly beaten by the hills of the Runner’s World Half Marathon in Allentown, PA (now known as the Lehigh Valley Half Marathon) just a few months prior. I officially declared that if I didn’t finish strong in Philly, then I would only run for my own enjoyment and bow out of these half marathon events.

After the Jefferson Half Marathon, I not only felt great, but I really believed that on that day, I could have finished a full marathon. I remember seeing the 10th and then the 11th mile marker after a mere blink of the eye. Not only was I without uncertainty after that race, but I signed up for my first marathon shortly thereafter.

I ended 2006 with the Marathon of the Palm Beaches. Ground temperatures had reached 90 degrees by 10 AM on that course, and nothing more than stubborn pride made me cross that finish line. In 2007, a return trip to Allentown was made, and I had to redeem myself by ripping those hills to shreds. With that item checked off my to-do list, a more daunting task was ahead of me - the Quebec Marathon. Although I did beat my Palm Beach time, I did require medical attention after stubborn pride delivered me, once again, to the finish line.

Discouraged, a little heart broken, and uncertain about myself as a marathon runner, I half heartedly attacked my already relaxed training schedule for the Philadelphia Marathon. I left a lot of things get in the way of my training as I skipped numerous tempo and speed sessions. I clung on to my distance runs and some of my strength training, but I would go without those at times as well.

I’m amazed by how calm I was the night before the race. It even featured an unfriendly discussion regarding my marital arrangements with my fiancé. The morning of the race, I was a little panicky. I was unsure about how many layers of clothing I needed, and what I should strip at the half way marker, which ultimately asks the question, “So, where should I pin down this freakin’ bib number?” When everything was finally set to go, I had 15 minutes to show up at the starting gates. And I found myself, a marathon runner, mixed in the gate for the half marathon. I eventually figured a way to the proper gate, and five minutes later, we were off and running.

Me just before I got lost amidst the half marathoners gate

Feeling a bit more optimistic after the start horn

Course Highlights

1. Near mile marker 5 in South Philly

We were running through a residential neighborhood and there was a hand written sign that said something to this effect –

Running 26.2 miles for a t-shirt and a soft pretzel??

I thought to myself, Wow, there’s a soft pretzel too? Bonus. And at that, I laughed out loud.

2. Near mile marker 7

This is part of the downtown area emerging from South Philly. There were a lot of locally owned mom & pop type stores. One of the stores is called Condom Kingdom, and it had a very elaborate store front with a huge sign above the entrance. A group of middle-aged mothers were really interested in the store, and decided to gather around for a picture. Low and behold, one out of the ten of them had packed a digital camera. Again, I laughed out loud, and so did the guy next to me.

3. Around mile marker 8

This is when the outermost layer got stripped – the water repellent windbreaker. I also opted to take off the gloves, but within seconds, had to retrieve them. Right before my little strip, one of the volunteers on a Segway had a malfunction. She was spinning in circles, her battery pack was in tangles, and a spectator was trying to help her out, but he only got further tangled into the Segway mess. That one got a quiet internal giggle. Those Segway things seem a bit silly to me, but it would be wrong to laugh at somebody else’s struggles. Bad karma while in the middle of running a marathon just didn’t seem like a smart thing to do.

4. Drexel Frat Houses around mile 9

I wasn’t a fan of frats until this marathon. These college kids were out bright and early, banging away at pots and pans on their porches. This one guy completely won my heart within 25 paces. He would use his wooden spoon and point at a cute girl running by, and say, “You, I love!” and bang away at his pot just to point again when another chick passes by. I, of course, laughed out loud at this, and so, of course, he pointed at me and threw out a “You too, I love!” before banging away.

5. Somewhere in the midst of the 10th and 11 mile … was a hill

It was mild hill, nothing to really complain about, but you did become aware of your quads and a slight increase in the heart rate. Then a sign emerged saying something about the last hill before fast track hos, with a super tiny 2 in between the h and the o. That one got a chuckle.

6. A little bit after the half marathon point

I was very happy to see my picture taking fiancé at this point because he had a Snickers Marathon Bar ready for me. Out of all the protein bars out there, I’m a fan of the Cliff and Luna Bars, but the ones by Snickers tend to last a bit longer. It probably has something to do with the preservatives, but one bar for every marathon that you run can’t be too bad.

And then the test appeared without a notice- miles 18 - 21.

This was by far the most difficult part of the course. We were heading out to Manayunk, PA, which did not offer much in terms of spectators or infrastructure along the way. It was just a long stretch of road on a cold, wet, rainy day. I didn’t even notice how miserable of a day it was until I was heading out of Philly. I tried to focus on my breathing, took a few sips of my Gaspari Size On from my CamelBak, nibbled on the Marathon Bar, and tried to let go of my fears. Eventually, as we started to cross over on to Main Street, a little laughter was just around the corner.

7. A beer stand prepared by the local neighborhood bar.

I, of course, abstained.

And then, we crossed over to Main Street Manayunk, and were greeted by Navy Veterans declaring the view that we were about to see by the waterfall is the most beautiful view that the entire marathon had to offer.

I do believe the man was quite accurate in his statement. A little while later, mile 19 was right there.

8. And a few staff members of Le Bus were handing out brownies to the runners at miles 19 and 21!

Admittedly, the circumstances may have had an impact on my assessment, but I swear that those were the best damn brownies I have ever had.


So, now came the home stretch. Armed with a belly full of Creatine (compliments of Gaspari Size On) and brownies, I was confident that crossing the finish line without the need of medical attention afterwards was entirely achievable. I checked my time, and it was even feasible for me to finish this 26.2 mile sucker in less than 5 hours. If I could just get my mind to work with me, I can EASILY get in by 4:45 / 4:50. The problem was that the way back into Philly was just as desolate as it was getting out. I could not conjure up any positive thoughts, even though I saw the miles winding down. Even at mile marker 23, I was still holding back. It was until I actually saw the Philadelphia Museum of Art well after the 25th mile marker that I snapped out of my funk and started to turn it on. I bolted after the 26th mile marker and had more than enough left to sprint it in.

I felt like I could have done maybe another 5 miles, but certainly at least another 2. I wish I had given it up earlier at 23 miles, and I kicked myself for not doing so … but I was smiling the whole time.

I did cross the finish line strong at 5:00. It was a PR. I know I will do better next time around, and I will eventually get to Boston. And quite possibly, by way of Philadelphia in 2008.

The Night Before in Philly

It’s the night before the marathon, and I’m calm for the first time. I was a nervous wreck the night before the Marathon of the Palm Beaches, and I was just plain scared before Quebec. Tonight, I’m calm. I know I will finish, but the time is questionable.

Walking around the expo and registration, I heard a lot of nervous chatter and worries about proper gear and attire. The placement of your tag poses an interesting question given that there will be layers of clothing that may or may not be stripped during the course of 26.2 miles. A group of girls around my age were waiting in line behind me for our race tags, and I overheard their conversation regarding this matter, and what sort of clothing would optimize their comfort through the race. They eventually submitted that no matter what they wore, they were going to feel a lot of pain regardless.

I laughed a little to myself. For whatever reason, the pain doesn’t scare me, and I don’t really care to avoid it. I can certainly do without it, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I’m actually a bit curious as to how I will handle myself this time around. I’ve always approached the marathon with the thought in being slow and steady, and to run nowhere near my normal pace until the 20th mile. Well, each previous marathon, I got way too excited after the 5th mile. I'm thinking this time around, I will be smarter and just let the excitement pass.

Well, wish me luck and send a prayer. Take off is scheduled in 8.5 hours.

The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

Fall Distance Running Gear:
Under Armour Cold Gear mock turtle neck and running tights
Columbia Breast Cancer Awareness fleece vest
CamelBak with 50 ounces of Gaspari's SizeOn sports drink
Asics Gel GT-2120 Trail

The Delaware and Raritan Canal stretches along Central Jersey all the way down to the New Hope area of Pennsylvania. Along side the canal is a tow path, and that is usually where I find my distance runs.

I have a love-hate relationship with this tow path. The gravel and rock hurts the feet, and I have suffered from numerous ankle twists and sprains due to the highly irregular surface. When I see a big pile of leaves, I will come to a complete stop and walk because underneath the colorful and seemingly even surface can be a jutting tree root, a large rock, or a big hole looking to shell out some unmerciful pain after an inevitable fall. Oh, and did I mention the mud puddles? Those puddles can cover such a wide expanse of the path that there is no possible way to continue forward without stomping into that thick organic brown liquid, soaking your socks through, and being rewarded with some lovely blisters for your pursuit of more miles.

And then you have to endure every last one of those obstacles again on the return trip.

The tow path itself is beautiful, especially this time of year. Right before the red and yellow leaves started to fall, there was an amazing spread of wild purple flowers all over the landscape. The view is calming, but the run can be maddening especially if it had rained. If the path was dry, then the problems are not quite so numerous.

On Sunday, I decided to buy a new pair of running shoes. I think my form suffers as I fatigue, so I have been eyeing the Asics Kinsei’s (to the left) for its motion control feature. In all honesty, I’ve been coveting them because it’s just a hot looking shoe, but my rationalization is that the motion control will prove beneficial for this weekend’s marathon in Philly.

Am I ready? No, I probably won’t finish with a Boston qualifying time as I had originally hoped in the beginning of this year. Will I finish? Hell yes, and I’ll be happy with anything near 5 hours.

So while I was at my favorite running store, I asked the cute sales boy who is about all of 15 years of age regarding their selection of trail shoes. I ended up sticking with a stability shoe from Asics that is made for trail running, the Asics Gel GT-2120 Trail (below and to the left), and took them out that afternoon for a ride. What an amazing difference.

The first couple of miles were on the road en route to the path, and my toes fell asleep. I had a moment’s hesitation and thought that maybe these girls were going to be returned. When I hit the path, everything changed. I felt completely in control, and I can tell that my ankles were secured in place. Midway through my run, I realized that trail running is an entirely different sort of running. I felt the smaller muscle groups (ankles, calves, hip flexors, even a bit in the adductors) working harder than they ever had before. By the time I was finished with the 15 mile run (I know … not a good idea for a taper week, but I couldn’t resist), I felt sore in places that I didn’t think could be touched by running. I welcomed the discomfort, and found the soreness refreshing.

I do believe that this marks the beginning of a whole new running experience, and I do look forward to chronicling every single one of them.

Week #2

I think I pretty much missed Week #1, but Week #2 was 85% there.

Monday 10/01 - Power Session

Tuesday 10/02- 6 miles at 5.8 MPH

Wednesday 10/03 - Power Session

Thursday 10/04 - Late night at the office, brought home a pizza and watched Grey's Anatomy.

Friday 10/05 - Should have gone to the gym to make up the missed 5 mile tempo, but ended up vegetating at home.

Saturday 10/06 - Power Session

Sunday 10/07 - 12 miles between 5.8 and 6.5 MPH pace (got a little cocky after the 10th mile)

I was geared up for a run outside when a few drops of rain and some scary clouds sent me packing for the gym. Do you have any idea what it's like to spend over two hours on a treadmill? Because I did take my run indoors and spent that amount of time on a treadmill, the clouds decided to move on to other places. I know if I had continued on my run out on the trail, the sky would have immediately split open with rain the very second I reached the farthest point from home.

So, for all of you people out there that enjoyed the afternoon outside in the Jersey sunshine on Sunday, you're quite welcome.

Tonight, we got some more Power in store.

Here I Go

This is the itinerary up through the Philadelphia Marathon, compliments of Runner's World. I will definitely maintain the milage, but I may tinker with the pace a little.

I wasn't entirely back at the gym and doing my full load of work, but I do believe I'm ready for a full return this week.

I did go for an 8 miler on Sunday, and went to a Power session last night. I'm definitely looking forward to the Easy Run tonight.

Almost Back Entirely

Tuesday Night

6 miles on treadmill at a leisurely 10 minutes per mile pace - heart rate did not exceed 80% max

Half an hour on a machine that's like part elliptical, part stair climber - hear rate did not exceed 75% max

Wednesday Night

Power Session

6 miles on treadmill at the same 10 minutes per mile pace - wasn't wearing heart rate monitor

Thursday & Friday Nights

In Little Italy for the Feast of San Gerrano

Saturday

Deep tissue massage and a facial

This sort of treatment will definitely be part of a regularly schedule program. I think the massage is what made me return to being human. Well, the massive quantities of the uber doughy zeppola helped a bit as well.

Sunday

What an absolutely gorgeous pre-fall day. I was worried about the type of distance I would cover, but I simply couldn't not head out there for some sort of run. I was pleasantly surprised a bit after an hour and having completed my typical seven mile loop, I was able to resist heading home and continue on to finish ten miles in 1:40.

As for today ... there will be a Power Session and some time on a treadmill.

I hope I'm back for good. I didn't like not having any go in me. Thanks Gotta Run for your advice in my previous entry. I think you were right about the recovery and my need to clear the head.

Québec Marathon des Deux Rives SSQ

Québec Marathon des Deux Rives SSQ completed on Sunday, August 26th in approximately 5:24 – sun poisoning type problem, IV drip and finishers medal included. I signed up for this race because it was featured in the January 2007 issue of Runner’s World as the 6th top “ten marathon experiences you should have in your lifetime.” The views, in fact, breath taking, and I’m likely to run this event again.


The course, though beautiful, is not to be taken lightly.

I remember Pacer Dave telling me at my first marathon in the Palm Beaches that the test of the marathon comes after mile 16, when you still have ten more to go, and the race for PR comes when you have five miles remaining. The clerks at the Running Room, the local running store in Quebec, where I purchased an extra pair of socks cautioned me about the course and to keep an eye on my pace. Because the first half to two thirds of the course is a gentle downhill slope, it may feel easy, but it is actually straining your quadriceps in a way that you wouldn’t really notice until later on.

I recalled these words of advice while stretching, and lining up at the start line. I was nervous and scared, but excited about the promising views. Expecting to hear a gun shot, my heart rate jolted into the beginning of the cardio zone with the firing of a canon. Yes, they fired a canon. Have you ever been within 20 yards of a canon being shot? It’s amazing how mentally focused you become, and the adrenaline rush is entirely unmatched.

Approximately 30 seconds after the cannon, the 5:30 pace crew were off and jogging. I noted the crowd that was around the pace setter, referred as the Pace Bunnies because the pace were written on pink bunny ears strapped on to their headbands. I made mental notes about their clothing so I would have some idea as to who I should try to keep up with should I ever lose my group.

As time wore on, I came across two girls and hung with them for a little while. We were rolling along at 10:20 per mile pace according to Garmin. I don’t recall their names, but the one in the white tank is a personal assistant to two lawyers, and the one in the black is in PR for Neiman Marcus in White Plains. It was PR girl’s birthday that weekend, and her gift to herself is a few days in Quebec, the marathon, to a spa day to cap it all off upon her return.

At some point while the three of us were running together, my Beau magically appeared with my waist pack with a bottle of Pure Vitargo and a change of socks. The girls asked me if he was my husband, and I felt obligated to say that he was. We had found our wedding bands one night after dinner in the old city. He fell in love with the concept of a titanium band after reading a story that a guy had to have his finger cut off to remove the band when he died. While window shopping after dinner, I found a display of wedding bands that were a bit darker than platinum. So we went in, and after an hour of looking through the cases and working with the salesgirl, we walked out with our wedding bands. He was so excited about the purchase that he insisted on looking at them while we sat at the Pub Saint-Alexandre for our post dinner drink. Well, from just looking at the bands, it proceeded to wearing the bands, and finally, to pretending that we are married for the duration of our stay in Quebec. Staying true to our little game of pretend, that was the only time that I have ever declared myself married. It was an odd feeling, and it felt like a lie despite the fact that we’ve been together for over seven years.

After a mile or two, the girl in the white tank eventually dropped off from us in search of a lost friend from a few miles back, and I eventually dropped off from PR girl because she was increasing her pace. I would have loved to cruise with her, but I was worried about my heart rate. It was approaching 80%, and we had only covered 11 miles. From then on, I was going at it solo, minding my heart rate and pace. I was enjoying the views and the glorious day, and a little annoyed at having chosen a short sleeve instead of a tank top for the race. It was rather chilly before the race started, but it was warming up quite a bit well before the canon shot.

I was worried about the hill at around mile 14 / 15, and the beginning of the real test upon my approach. It was in fact, everything that I had feared. The climb was steep and curved. It wasn’t too long of a climb, but it was long enough. The clerks words came to haunt me as I ascended the hill – my quads were hurting in a way that I have never felt before. I’m accustomed to the pain associated with an uphill fight, but I understood the pain that comes with downhill running. Within a minute of this ascension, I felt the underside of my quads near the bone burning up, along with the exterior of my calves. It was such an unusual feeling. Then, as Pacer Dave had advised however long ago, the test was about to begin.

The sun was now thoroughly beating down, and we were heading into the major roadways that are without any sort of shade. I began seeing some of the faster members of the 5:30 pace group, and tried to keep pace with them. By mile 18, I was having hard time ignoring the headache that had been developing since the hill, so I started walking. I walked for a mile, and decided to sit down to change my socks. My bottle was nearly empty, and I started to drink Gatorade at the water stations.

After the sock change, I tried to start the running again, but it was more of sputtering jog than an actual run. I decided to give it a true valiant go when there was five miles remaining, but that effort didn’t last too long on account of the headache and a burning sensation that was running along my torso. The 5:30 pace group had passed me by, but the Pace Bunny was still nowhere in sight. Finally, with two miles remaining, I returned to my jogging pace that eventually evolved into my running pace as I approached my last mile.

My head was on the verge of exploding as I crossed the finish line, but I did finish strong. Normally, this is where the story would end, but in this instance, the story does go on.

I was incredibly uncomfortable, and all I wanted was a cab ride back to the hotel. Because my head was hurting so badly, I could only speak in a whisper, which was a problem because the years of high volume heavy metal has rendered my Beau’s hearing equal to that of a ninety year old. He thought that there was something wrong with my calves each time I asked for a cab. I was so frustrated and the headache was so severe that I nearly started to cry. Eventually, he caught on to my need for a cab, so he ran off to figure out a way to catch one that didn’t require me to walk several blocks out into the area that wasn’t closed off. While he was out searching, I sat under a tree trying to relax and get myself to feel better. There was a woman walking around me who was concerned about my well being. I insisted that I was fine, but after a couple of minutes, two French Canadian male medics came over to me. They basically didn’t speak English, and given my weak whispers of protests, they wrapped two different sorts of blood pressure equipment on me, and pricked my finger for a blood sugar test. Apparently, 31 units of whatever measurement the test uses is low, so a wheelchair came out and I was promptly shipped off to the medical tent.

There, I was given a cup of 7 Up since they were completely out of Gatorade. Two seconds after a tiny sip of soda, and I threw up more stuff than I thought I had in me. This whole while, I had kept my eyes shut to block out the sunlight that made me headache ever worse. I had no idea I had the attention of the entire medical staff. With eyes shut, they gave me an IV drip, which made me feel better within seconds though the headache persisted. I had been cold ever since I crossed the finish line, but I started to shake uncontrollably from the chill. This is when I started to turn blue, apparently. One of the medics that had carted me off into the tent kept asking me, calmly, “Madame? Are you okay?” I replied in my whisper that I was okay, but my Beau started to panic - HONEY! Open your eyes! Honey? Just open your eyes. Your turning blue and you look like death!

So for his benefit, I opened the eyes, and the headache really started to pound away. Eventually, I felt that I would be able to walk a few blocks to catch a cab as long as I kept my eyes closed. The medics was still concerned and gave us directions to the area hospital should my problems worsen in anyway. We thanked them, caught a cab, and hobbled off.

I was really hoping that I would be able to enjoy that one nice day of our stay in Quebec, but that didn’t really happen. I showered and slept for a few hours. It was well past sunset before I was ready to be out and about again.

That night, we celebrated crossing the finish line at Le Patriarche. That was where PR girl had her birthday dinner, and she highly recommended the place. It was, in fact, supremely tasty.

All said and told, it wasn’t a terrible marathon. Afterall, I did finish.

The Day Before

I have fully accepted the possibilities of a DNF. I have not been loyal to my training schedule for a variety of reasons, but mainly because I have not been very successful at the balancing act. I have allowed myself to commit too much of my emotional and mental resources to things that are entirely beyond my control. As a means of compensation, I've been letting go of my training. I'm not sure if this was a good solution to my problems, but it was a solution.

Some times I wonder if I'm going about this whole thing from the wrong angle. I'm not a professional athlete, but it almost seems that I'm trying to live like one between my meal plans and training schedule. The mental effort and physical discipline it takes to execute those two agendas on a daily basis does not allow for much auxiliary stresses, such as overtime commitments of work, battling evil that is NJDMV, and contending with rampant stupidity.

I don't know how people like IronWil and GottaRun do it. Especially IronWil. One of her training session is likely to land me in the hospital with an IV drip in the PSYCHIATRIC WARD because they would be convinced that I was, in fact, trying to commit suicide. Why else would a seemingly sane person continue in a five hour workout if she's already seeing stars after only an hour and a half?

So anyway, here I am. In the middle of a truly beautiful city (an entry about my jaunts in Quebec is forthcoming ... I forgot to pack the cable that connects my camera to the laptop), I sit at my hotel desk, looking out into Place George V and Menege Militaire. The weather hasn't been the best, but the grey skies, fog and mist lends a certain character and mood to this city that is both haunting and regal.

View from my window at the Chateau Laurier

I'm incredibly nervous and scared for tomorrow. I know I can cover 15 miles without any problems, and possibly even 20 if I hold back enough, but 26.2 may just be a bit more than I can handle.

I am not worried about a DNF - I know that there is no shame in it. Everybody needs to fail once in a while, and it isn't so bad to fail here. There's always some Poutine and a lovely collection of Patisseries to provide some comfort either way. In the meanwhile, keep your fingers crossed and pray for me. Maybe a full rosary ... or two.

Uh-oh

Skipped the gym last night because I had to work late ...

I might not go tonight either on account of the drowsies. This isn't good. I should go, but I just KNOW it won't feel too good.

Tempo Run #9 and Finding My Go

I have no idea what I did or how I did it, but I found the go last night during my tempo run. It showed up completely by surprise too. The warm up was more difficult than I would have liked it to be, and within the first mile, my heart rate went up to 88% of my max at tempo. It felt like getting 2.5 miles out would be the most I could do, so I just started to adjust my thinking. I knew the pace was a bit fast, but I kept repeating to myself the remaining laps on a track that I had to complete. For whatever reason, thinking I have 7 laps to go is far less intimidating than knowing I have 1.75 miles remaining.

When I had completed 1.5 miles at tempo, I noticed my heart rate had dropped down to 85%, and it felt like I was actually hanging out down at 83%. That was when this thought came to mind: Maybe I can go another mile at this pace? Maybe I can do 4 miles? I know that I can do more than 3 … and that’s when I knew that I had found my go.

Crossing the third mile, my heart rate had climbed up to 91%, but it fell back to 88% when I had only a quarter of a mile remaining. The only thing I did differently this time around was consuming about half of the SuperPump half an hour before the run, and the rest about 10 minutes before the run. Maybe the element of time released magic was what gave me the go?

Tonight - Power with Debbie. I know not to plan on running or doing anything else tonight ...

15 Miles and Some Cross Training

On Sunday, I decided to head to the gym for my distance run instead of taking it outdoors on account of fear of the eminent thunderstorms. On my way there, I saw three cyclists making an evenly paced break away in the opposite direction of where I was traveling. It was odd to see them riding in such a way, they weren't riding in a draft/pull configuration but more of an each man for himself sort of mentality. I soon understood why - they were riding to save their lives.

The sky had ripped open, and visibility was none existent about half a mile down the road. It was scary, but I was pleased with my treadmill decision because being caught in that storm would not have turned out well.

I intended to run a total of 20 miles, even though I was slated for 15. I felt strong enough to cover about 30 at my relatively slow pace. I started off at a mild 5.8 MPH, where my heart rate stayed between 75 and 78% of my max for the first ten miles. When I crossed over to the 11th mile, I turned it up to 6.0 MPH, and my heart rate held steady at 80%. Unfortunately, I had to get off the treadmill by mile 14 because I had ran out of water. The water fountain was off in another corner of the gym where the temperature was a lot cooler, and I felt my legs starting to tighten up.

By the time I climbed back on the treadmill, my leg muscles felt locked and I had lost my go. I tried to get it all started again, but after a mile struggling with the 6.0 MPH pace with a heart rate up at 85%, I knew the day was over.

In total, I covered 15 miles in about 2:45 ... and the best part? It felt good.

Last night, I struggled my way through Power and a cycling class. I was considering going home for a rest as I was on my way to the gym. Once I showed up, I was hardly energized to even consider putting two hours of work, but somehow ... I made it through.

Tonight is a Tempo Run. I hope I can find my go tonight.

Tempo Run #8 & Power

Done and done.

I was a bit ambitious and started last night's tempo run at 7.3 MPH, but a bit after a third of a mile into the work out at that pace, I knew I wouldn't be able to hang in for three full miles. So I reduced my speed to 7.2 MPH, which is basically about right given that my speed work is at 7.4 MPH and I do cross past 90% during the third set of speed at that pace. The impact of just a tiny tenth of a mile per hour or 13 seconds per mile faster is simply amazing.



After the tempo run, I peeled myself off the treadmill and proceeded to Power with the cutest fitness instructor I have ever had the pleasure to work with. I was hopeless in his class, even sat down on the bench during one of the breaks in between sets, but I still stuck it out for the entire hour. The extra fatigue on the legs is what makes them shapelier ... right? He was worth every minute of the pain though.

I just need to figure out a way to pull myself together before going to his class. Seriously, I looked like a train wreck with puffy out of control hair. Life will be so much easier when the sucker finally grows out. If it's one thing I've learned in the 26 years of my existence is that long hair is easy points on the hot chick score card.

For extra credit, I managed to wake up about twenty minutes after my alarm went off this morning, which was set at 4:45 AM. I got started on my run a bit later than I normally do, at 5:20, and it was just a miserable morning. It was hotter than normal and incredibly humid with overcast skies. I was actually cramping up a bit and the run itself was just not enjoyable. I only covered about 2.5 miles, but today was suppose to be my day off, so I'm not feeling bad about it. The main reason for the early morning run is because I have an appointment with my nutritionist tonight. I know that a twenty minute run first thing in the morning probably isn't going to do much for me in terms of my body composition, but I think it may have some sort of impact on my numbers tonight. I hope it does, at least.

Merciless Power Session

Good Lord that was painful. I really wanted to go for a run last night, but I was far too tired and my arms wanted nothing more than to fall off my body.

It's amazing the things that can happen when you modify a count or deny even just three seconds worth of a break. Debbie - if you ever come across this site ... KNOW that you slaughtered my biceps last night. SLAUGHTERED.

Because I couldn't make last night's run, I intended on grabbing a few miles this morning. That really didn't happen. I woke up at 7:20 this morning, which is about 10 minutes before I need to leave for work. Needless to say, I'm not looking too pretty today.

So tonight I have a tempo run and I may go to another Power class. Because I am in fact, a bit crazed.

Speed Work #4 and the Pursuit of Balance

I do believe I am out of my little funk. I had a great work out last night, though breathing is proving to be somewhat tasking these days. I choose to do my speed and tempo sessions on the treadmill, but I don't feel comfortable spitting into a tissue when the machines next to me are occupied. I even rarely spit when I'm running outside, so my indoor inhibitions are even greater.*


I originally wanted to head home right after I was done, and try to persuade H into running a couple of miles with me. I was a little anxious to do something active outside considering a lot of the summer seemed to have slipped right by me. Instead, we decided to meet up at the local bar for a beer and a quick dinner. I was hoping to land a spot at the tiki bar, but it was probably the humidity factor that made H drop anchor at the bar stool directly in front of the Mets game. I didn't mind too much - having a close up few of David Wright made up for it.

Although I was a little smelly and looking incredibly not cute sitting at the bar in my post work out state (short hair with curling tendencies that was cut for a straight style after a sweaty work out is not exactly a fabulous look), we definitely needed the little mid-week jaunt. I was concerned that my return to my training would consume my conscious hours, so I wouldn't have any time to share with H. Well, last night, the bar acted as a balance. If it should happen again, I'm definitely getting a quick rinse and real clothes to change into after the gym.

The only negative aspect of the jaunt is the stromboli we had for dinner, which is not a prescribed item on my meal plan. So, to balance THAT out, I got up early this morning for a quick four mile run. It felt great. Harder than it was before, but it still felt pretty damn good.

Tonight, another Power session and either a light evening run outside, or I hop back on the treadmill. It depends on the weather and my mood I guess. We shall see.

* For the non-runners in the world who deign to read my humble blog - spitting is about as normal as breathing and sweating when you're running. Gross, but true.