Do me a solid and completely overlook the fact that I haven't written a blog post in over 5 months. Thanks.
So much has happened in those few months...too much to recap in one post. But here's the long and short of it:
Going through another long injury cycle last year was an incredible gift. It allowed me to focus on my business during its craziest season. It allowed me to share more miles with my kids because my only goal was time on my feet instead of a time on a clock. It allowed me to support my husband 100% as he trained for and completed his first half Ironman. It allowed me to run beside Brynn during her first two 5k races.
It allowed me to enjoy races from the other side - as a spectator instead of a runner.
It allowed me to turn my focus outward and enjoy watching people I love accomplish their own lofty goals, leaving me inspired to start the next chapter in my own little book of running.
When I started racking up the miles again in late fall, it was with the mission of enjoying each run and being grateful for every healthy mile I logged. I was mindful of my pace, but this time it was to be sure I was keeping it slow instead of forcing a quicker pace my body wasn't ready for yet. I spent the second half of November and all of December adding slow, easy miles to my week to prepare my body for the Shamrock half marathon in March. I promised myself I wouldn't even think about any kind of speed work until I was consistently running 25-30 easy miles per week. January came and I ran my tail off...strong, consistent 30+ mile weeks all month long. Feeling ready, I started peppering some quicker miles into my runs. I never started a run with a plan to go faster, but if I was feeling good, I'd push the pace for a little bit. Nothing crazy fast, just a comfortably hard mile or two in the middle of a longer run. Occasionally I'd surprise myself with a little more speed than I expected, which only helped convince me that this conservative method is working.
But the real positive reinforcement came this past weekend. Nothing I can write will really do this experience justice, so I'll stick with just the facts. A few weeks ago, my friend Jess (better known to many as The Fit Petite) asked me to be a part of a foursome that would tackle 100 kilometers as a team. For the non-mathletes, that's 62 total miles, divided by 4 runners, meaning each of us would run roughly 16 miles, split up however we wanted. The race was held at a local golf course, and we'd be running the same 2.3 mile loop around and around and around until we reached 100k. Lucky me was up first for Team No Pain, No Champagne.
It was 6:30am, dark, and brisk outside. The plan was to run two laps for a total of 4.6 miles. Unbeknownst to most of us, the first lap was an out and back instead of a loop. I completed my out and back, pretty certain I was in dead last. Daylight began to break when I started the loop after the out and back, making me more sure of my footing and able to pick up the pace a little. Unsure of how this whole day would go down, I was running conservatively to start. As the motor warmed up during that first loop, I felt myself picking up the pace. Once I hit 4 miles I sped up a bit more, thinking in roughly a half mile I'd be relieved of my running duties by Jess, who was waiting on deck. I came around the turn, ready to hand our team bib off to Jess, only to be told I had to do another loop. WHAT??? Well alright. Back at it for another 2.3 miles. I slowed my pace down slightly and finished my first leg, which turned out to be a 10k+ warm up for the rest of the day.
The day got colder and windier as it went on, but we were all prepared with extra layers of clothing, blankets, coffee, and good company.
We'd eat, drink, stretch, chat, and laugh while we waited to see our teammates come around the homestretch. Occasionally we'd find warmth and comfort (and clean bathrooms) inside the golf course's clubhouse, but then it was back out to cheer the other runners in.
My second leg was another two laps, which averaged about 15 seconds faster per mile than my first leg, and despite the quickness, still felt strong and under control. My third leg was just one lap, and the first mile was incredibly fast thanks to a little tailwind and the half a donut I ate prior to going out. There was no maintaining that pace, and I eased up a lot for the rest of that leg, but still averaged 27 seconds faster per mile than the second leg.
I felt more nervous going into my fourth and final leg than I did any of the others.
By the afternoon, the wind was whipping, and we were all feeling cold and tight, making it hard to gauge how much our legs had left in the tank. I wanted to finish strong, but there was a good chance of crashing and burning somewhere along the last 2.3 miles. Surprisingly, I had enough left for a faster finish than I expected. With about a half mile to go, Taylor Swift's "22" came on the Pandora station I was listening to, and that one little line where she says "It's miserable and magical" brought tears to my eyes and a pace to my legs that was the second fastest of the entire day. I handed the team bib over and hoped for strong finishes for the rest of my team.
The running and the weather took it's toll on our mental capacity as the day went on, so we checked with the timing table to make sure we were accurate on our lap count before getting too excited about nearing the finish. It was confirmed that Kristy would be our final runner, and we sent her off as the first raindrops started falling. We waited for her in the warmth of the clubhouse, and when we saw her come around the homestretch we were like puppies seeing their owner pull up in the driveway. We decided there was no other way to finish this race than together, so once Kristy rounded the clubhouse, Jess, Kim, and I ran with her to cross the finish line as one unit.
As T-Swift so eloquently puts it, this race was miserable and magical. The weather was miserable, although it could have been much worse if the rain had gotten to us earlier than it did. But the magic...each of my teammates had their own individual goals mapped out for the day, and with our own team and the support and encouragement of other teams and individual runners on the course, each of those missions were accomplished. My own mission was to put in 16 or so miles that day and not be hating life when I finished. I did the work and left with a runner's high like no other. I left knowing my method of "run more, run slower" is working right now. And I left knowing I am still capable of running as fast I did before the foot injury. My plan is to stay this course of running easy, joyful miles 90% of the time and giving it a little gas when I'm feeling strong. I know I have a sub-1:40 in these legs, but most importantly, I know it doesn't have to come in the next race I run or even the next year of running. My heart is in this running thing for the long haul, and that will only happen if my body stays healthy.
My next challenge comes just five weeks from now, during our beloved Shamrock weekend. I signed up for the half marathon months ago, but when Brynn told me back in December that she wanted to run the 8k instead of the Final Mile, I jumped at the chance to do the 8k with her as well. It'll be an 18 mile weekend for me, and I'm really excited to see how it all goes down. With no time goal looming over my head this year, my only hope for Shamrock weekend (and beyond) is more merry miles.
Going through another long injury cycle last year was an incredible gift. It allowed me to focus on my business during its craziest season. It allowed me to share more miles with my kids because my only goal was time on my feet instead of a time on a clock. It allowed me to support my husband 100% as he trained for and completed his first half Ironman. It allowed me to run beside Brynn during her first two 5k races.
It allowed me to enjoy races from the other side - as a spectator instead of a runner.
It allowed me to turn my focus outward and enjoy watching people I love accomplish their own lofty goals, leaving me inspired to start the next chapter in my own little book of running.
When I started racking up the miles again in late fall, it was with the mission of enjoying each run and being grateful for every healthy mile I logged. I was mindful of my pace, but this time it was to be sure I was keeping it slow instead of forcing a quicker pace my body wasn't ready for yet. I spent the second half of November and all of December adding slow, easy miles to my week to prepare my body for the Shamrock half marathon in March. I promised myself I wouldn't even think about any kind of speed work until I was consistently running 25-30 easy miles per week. January came and I ran my tail off...strong, consistent 30+ mile weeks all month long. Feeling ready, I started peppering some quicker miles into my runs. I never started a run with a plan to go faster, but if I was feeling good, I'd push the pace for a little bit. Nothing crazy fast, just a comfortably hard mile or two in the middle of a longer run. Occasionally I'd surprise myself with a little more speed than I expected, which only helped convince me that this conservative method is working.
But the real positive reinforcement came this past weekend. Nothing I can write will really do this experience justice, so I'll stick with just the facts. A few weeks ago, my friend Jess (better known to many as The Fit Petite) asked me to be a part of a foursome that would tackle 100 kilometers as a team. For the non-mathletes, that's 62 total miles, divided by 4 runners, meaning each of us would run roughly 16 miles, split up however we wanted. The race was held at a local golf course, and we'd be running the same 2.3 mile loop around and around and around until we reached 100k. Lucky me was up first for Team No Pain, No Champagne.
It was 6:30am, dark, and brisk outside. The plan was to run two laps for a total of 4.6 miles. Unbeknownst to most of us, the first lap was an out and back instead of a loop. I completed my out and back, pretty certain I was in dead last. Daylight began to break when I started the loop after the out and back, making me more sure of my footing and able to pick up the pace a little. Unsure of how this whole day would go down, I was running conservatively to start. As the motor warmed up during that first loop, I felt myself picking up the pace. Once I hit 4 miles I sped up a bit more, thinking in roughly a half mile I'd be relieved of my running duties by Jess, who was waiting on deck. I came around the turn, ready to hand our team bib off to Jess, only to be told I had to do another loop. WHAT??? Well alright. Back at it for another 2.3 miles. I slowed my pace down slightly and finished my first leg, which turned out to be a 10k+ warm up for the rest of the day.
The day got colder and windier as it went on, but we were all prepared with extra layers of clothing, blankets, coffee, and good company.
We'd eat, drink, stretch, chat, and laugh while we waited to see our teammates come around the homestretch. Occasionally we'd find warmth and comfort (and clean bathrooms) inside the golf course's clubhouse, but then it was back out to cheer the other runners in.
My second leg was another two laps, which averaged about 15 seconds faster per mile than my first leg, and despite the quickness, still felt strong and under control. My third leg was just one lap, and the first mile was incredibly fast thanks to a little tailwind and the half a donut I ate prior to going out. There was no maintaining that pace, and I eased up a lot for the rest of that leg, but still averaged 27 seconds faster per mile than the second leg.
I felt more nervous going into my fourth and final leg than I did any of the others.
By the afternoon, the wind was whipping, and we were all feeling cold and tight, making it hard to gauge how much our legs had left in the tank. I wanted to finish strong, but there was a good chance of crashing and burning somewhere along the last 2.3 miles. Surprisingly, I had enough left for a faster finish than I expected. With about a half mile to go, Taylor Swift's "22" came on the Pandora station I was listening to, and that one little line where she says "It's miserable and magical" brought tears to my eyes and a pace to my legs that was the second fastest of the entire day. I handed the team bib over and hoped for strong finishes for the rest of my team.
The running and the weather took it's toll on our mental capacity as the day went on, so we checked with the timing table to make sure we were accurate on our lap count before getting too excited about nearing the finish. It was confirmed that Kristy would be our final runner, and we sent her off as the first raindrops started falling. We waited for her in the warmth of the clubhouse, and when we saw her come around the homestretch we were like puppies seeing their owner pull up in the driveway. We decided there was no other way to finish this race than together, so once Kristy rounded the clubhouse, Jess, Kim, and I ran with her to cross the finish line as one unit.
As T-Swift so eloquently puts it, this race was miserable and magical. The weather was miserable, although it could have been much worse if the rain had gotten to us earlier than it did. But the magic...each of my teammates had their own individual goals mapped out for the day, and with our own team and the support and encouragement of other teams and individual runners on the course, each of those missions were accomplished. My own mission was to put in 16 or so miles that day and not be hating life when I finished. I did the work and left with a runner's high like no other. I left knowing my method of "run more, run slower" is working right now. And I left knowing I am still capable of running as fast I did before the foot injury. My plan is to stay this course of running easy, joyful miles 90% of the time and giving it a little gas when I'm feeling strong. I know I have a sub-1:40 in these legs, but most importantly, I know it doesn't have to come in the next race I run or even the next year of running. My heart is in this running thing for the long haul, and that will only happen if my body stays healthy.
My next challenge comes just five weeks from now, during our beloved Shamrock weekend. I signed up for the half marathon months ago, but when Brynn told me back in December that she wanted to run the 8k instead of the Final Mile, I jumped at the chance to do the 8k with her as well. It'll be an 18 mile weekend for me, and I'm really excited to see how it all goes down. With no time goal looming over my head this year, my only hope for Shamrock weekend (and beyond) is more merry miles.
