Something something about the heat being on -- Vermont City Marathon, 2016

Knowing that the weather was going to be hot, no two ways about it, there was always the option of choosing not to run, and given my experience at Boston in 2012, that would probably be the most sensible option, but I had already paid: for the race, for the hotel, for the trip, never mind the price in miles over the last five months. Even if I would have to run slower than I’d hoped, the work I’d done in training, along with smarter execution, should allow me to finish reasonably (and certainly much, much better than the infernal 2012 Boston). This summer weather disappointed me even before the race began, but I couldn’t just pull the plug. I was going to do this race. Saturday night, I laid out my uniform: pale green singlet instead of the bright hot reddish-pink one (so as to not draw as little attention from the sun as possible), the dark blue Nike Epic Lux shorts that have three pockets (to carry my gels). Usually the nerves get started while I do this, but this time I felt only misgivings. I really should not run, I thought. I’m not going to run well and I will probably only end up doing damage.

But we came all this way, and I still hoped I might be able to leverage some intelligence into a half-decent time, if nowhere near the PR I’d hoped to take a shot at. And I could still hope it might be cloudy, right? 80s and overcast is not as bad as 80s and sunny. I tried to drink water every time I thought about it all day Saturday, all evening, and whenever I woke in the night, so that I could start from a full tank, hydration-wise. It made for an interrupted overnight, but I’d rather wake up several times to pee being well-hydrated than sleep soundly and wake up in the hole on that front. I never sleep soundly on race eve anyway, so might as well be getting something out of it.

Morning came muggy and sunny. No wishes had been granted. The sun would be out for the worst of it all.

I ate my oatmeal, wondering if it might be better next time to practice eating a cold breakfast instead of a hot one, just in case race day comes up steaming. I showered, I dressed, I looked out the window at runners leaving for Battery Park well before 7 a.m. Why would you do that? Why make yourself stand out in the heat any longer than absolutely necessary? It was in the 70s already at 7 a.m.! We did not leave the hotel until around 7:30, which was the latest possible. We had two blocks to walk to Battery Street, then up that bear of a hill about four blocks to the park at the top, where the start waited. In 2014, I wore a light jacket when B and I walked over, from a closer hotel, and while I didn’t wear it for long, at least it had been cool enough to have on for those first few minutes outside. This year, I was sorry to have even put on the singlet, and thought briefly about abandoning it and pinning my bib to the front of my sports bra. I decided it would be better to have my torso’s skin covered if it was going to be super sunny, so I left the shirt on. After a little tarrying and photography in the crowded Battery Park (half a thought to use a portapotty though I did not at all feel it was necessary, just wanting to out of habit, the lines deterring me from even that), I said good-bye to B and his parents with plans on seeing them by the hotel, which was between miles 9 and 10, if not before.

I walked up the street in front of the starting line toward the preferred corral, thanks to my 2014 Caesar Rodney time, and slipped in between a few rows of scantily clad men (and a few women) to position myself for the start. I thought about this year’s Caesar Rodney, how cold and horrid it had been, but that little trick of psychology didn’t help. The sun was on us, and already-hot bodies were all around me. Another woman slipped in to stand next to me; I could see from her bib that her name was also Courtney. She turned to me and wished me good-luck; I said the same, and told her that is my name too (though my bib indicated me as CRUSHER). I don’t know why people always enjoy finding others who share a name, but it added a little pleasantness to a moment I was otherwise only feeling sorry for myself. This was going to be awful. It was at least 75 when they finally started the race a little after 8:00 a.m., and not a dry 75 – at least Boston 2012 had not been humid. We were not going to get even that small fortune this day.

For the first four miles, I could not control my legs. I tried, honestly. I know how stupid that sounds; obviously I am in control of my body, so how could I not just slow them down if I wanted to? I tried. I looked at my watch and knew I was going too fast when it read anything less than 7:45 (even 7:45 would probably have been too fast); I would hit the brakes and back off, but then I’d look down and see I was cruising at 7:30 or even 7:2X again.

1 7:38.6
2 7:24.5
3 7:43.4
4 7:34.9

You’re going too fast, you idiot! Get a grip! But this portion had some downhill, and I was streaming along with a large host of others with cheering fans lining the way, so I got carried away in spite of my repeated attempts to rein my legs in. I repeatedly failed. My legs were just going to run whatever the hell they wanted to run, I guess.

Between miles 4 and 8, the route heads out on a divided highway (VT127, past the Ethan Allen homestead) that is shut down on race day. There is essentially no cover on this stretch – though I do recall toward its farther reach that it dipped close enough to trees along the side to afford some shade, however brief and relatively ineffectual. I finally got a grip on pace during this out and back, partly due to willpower but mainly due to physiological responses. There had been a water stop between miles 2 and 3, but not another until a little past mile 4 – by the time I came upon that one, it felt too late. I had been praying to see it come into view well before it finally did; I was thirsty. Not desperately so, but too thirsty for comfort. There was another one about a mile on down, and I was thirsty again when I hit that one. These conditions were ugly.

Where I had been running foolishly well under 8:00/mile for the first four, I finally got down to 8:00 and change during this out-and-back. I took a gel around the water stop between 6-7; ugh. The sticky Gu was unpleasant. Coming back into town from the highway, the course ran up a short but difficult hill; as the route leveled out again thereafter, I considered my condition. I did not feel terrible, but I certainly felt a long way from where you’d hope to feel as you complete the first third of the distance. As we headed back through downtown, I told myself it was only going to get exponentially worse – I knew it would, I had experience with that – and advised myself that it would be OK to drop out and spare myself a terrible time and the accompanying misery. No one would judge me negatively for doing something that, honestly, was eminently sensible. But quitting really is a last resort, and I did not feel that I gotten to last resort territory yet.

I suggested to myself that I would reassess closer to the hotel in a mile or two; if I were going to drop out, it would be easier to do it where I could easily find B and his parents, and quickly escape into a cool hotel room. And by the time we raced through downtown again, and turned the corner to head down Main Street toward Pine (the intersection at which the hotel lies), I felt somewhat improved, and so passed by my personal supporters with a wave and as much of a smile as I could put on my face.

Mile 10 came and went (7:42, thanks to some downhill). I had been running for just shy of 80 minutes, which was not all that shabby; but I could not feel very good about it, because I could feel the weather taking its toll one sweat bead at a time, and the stretch between 10 and 11 was a lot in the sun again. Finally we curved through a residential neighborhood with some tree cover, and it was here that the 3:30 pace group caught up to me. They did not overtake me with gusto, instead easing up and only getting ahead inch by inch, in part because I could not prevent myself from reacting to the spurt of adrenaline that said “Crusher, you do not want to finish over 3:30, maybe you can stay with these guys.” But around mile 12, they had crept farther and farther away, and I finally had to admit that while I could probably let my legs go and stay with them a while longer, it would only be a matter of time before they dropped me again and dropped me hard, leaving me to pay an even steeper price in the end for having tried. It was exceedingly disappointing to accept this and to let that bobbing 3:30 sign go.

I took another gel around the half, where the race course nears the lake. There was a bit of a breeze in this area, which only took the slightest edge off the sweltering heat. I thought to myself that I had less than two hours of running left to do, which wasn’t that bad, was it? Or would it be most rational of me to drop out, cede the fight in submission to the heat, and retreat? Again, I decided I would make that call when I came across B and his parents again; I expected to see them somewhere along Battery, either on the approach to the long hill or somewhere on it, so not too far into the future. The gel helped, and when I passed them at the bottom of the hill, I was feeling decent enough to forge onward.

The hill was tough. It was always going to be tough – it was in 2014 when it wasn’t quite as hot, it would have been even had it been cooler, simply because of its steepness and its length and its location in the race. I was doing OK though pace-wise – still in the 8:00s, that hill’s mile coming through at 8:37. I would get another decent two miles in (if we’re only considering pace, and not the fact that I did not feel decent) before the wheels started wobbling. After the hill on Battery, the course runs along what is probably a very busy road on normal days, with little cover again. It is long and straight, with undulations; you can see the string of runners along the curb for what seems like miles and miles ahead of you. I knew the course turned off this road into a side neighborhood at some point, but it started to feel like I was never going to get there. Somehow, this road kept lengthening itself between me and that turnoff. I grabbed ice for the first time along this road; I rubbed it all over my shoulders, my face, my neck, my head, and put the last small piece in my mouth. That was quite nice.

Before I begin to detail the excruciating crumble that I began to undergo starting between miles 18 and 19, I want to write a little bit about the spectators and fans. Except for that out-and-back along the highway, spectator support is nearly constant, and very regular on the course. Downtown it’s solid, of course, but in the neighborhoods, most houses had people out watching and cheering. (One lady made a dash across the runner-strewn road, precariously carrying a large and extremely fragrant pie. Many neighbors seemed to make race-spectating a party situation.) This year, many of those spectators had their own water stops, or offered ice, fruit, and other items to soothe the hot runners passing by. The race had official sprinklers and misters out after mile 10, but too many spectators to count had their own sprinklers and hoses out, as well. I ducked under countless sprays, which would give a brief but welcome blast of coolness; I’d wipe the droplets on my arms to spread them out for a quick shot of cooling evaporation before it just turned to warm sweatiness again. Fortunately my shoes never got over-wet, but my sunglasses did get spotty, which was moderately annoying to look through mile after mile. (I made the mistake, after one particularly sprinkly sprinkler, of trying to wipe them on the edge of my singlet. That only succeeded in smearing the lenses, and I spent the last 7 or so miles seeing through half a haze. At least, I think I can blame the haze on the sunglasses and not my deteriorating state.) I did not take but maybe one spectator’s water cups, as in the last half of the race, official aid stations were numerous enough, but I did scoop ice on several occasions and once, a moment of utter bliss: a man handed me a sponge that had been soaking in ice water, and I squashed it hard on the top of my head. I had expected coolness, of course; but I was not prepared for the bracing shock of that ice water streaming over the top of my head, down my face and neck, across my shoulders. It was momentary ecstasy. I wish I could go back and thank that man personally. It was only seconds before the sweaty heat overcame the ice water again, but my spirits were lifted for a little while thereafter.

And aside from the sustenance, the crowd were vocally supportive all along the course. I approve of the trend of putting names on bibs as well as numbers; having CRUSHER on mine made it feel like I had hundreds of friends along the roadside watching and cheering for me. Strangers yelling “LET’S GO CRUSHER, YOU CAN CRUSH IT!” and similar is very uplifting as well, even when I know I don’t actually know those people yelling it. And I appreciated it even in the later stages, when I could no longer believe them when they shouted “LOOKING GREAT, CRUSHER!” No, I certainly did not (I have seen the photographic proof), but thank you all for your positivity regardless.

Out of that neighborhood loop, back onto the long busy road for a short while. I knew we’d turn off again at some point, and didn’t it have to be soon? Weren’t we going to head to the bike path and start toward the end, soon? How could we not even be to mile 20 yet? The heat’s claws were working their wickedness; I dropped to slower than 9:00 for mile 20 and hope of anything faster became a foggy, forgotten dream. My right leg started to fall apart – my hamstring began to tighten, a sensation that wrapped itself around my upper leg and into my glute, down to my knee. Is this cramping? I wondered. Can I run through it for the next six miles? Then the thing happened where I was desperate to guzzle every cup of water at the aid stations (coming at least every mile now), but I could only take a couple sips because when it hit my stomach, it hurt. Gatorade was worse.

It was the same feeling that eventually forced me out of Boston in 2014. (In 2012, I had cratered well before this point; I felt sick, among several other disastrous developments, but have no memory of whether drinking water made it worse or not.) I couldn’t allow myself to pass by the water, however, because I was thirsty. It seemed like I could feel all those sips sitting in my stomach, not being absorbed, and after mile 21, I began to experience waves of nausea. They rolled in and out, and while the leg issue seemed to dull after a couple miles, I reached a point where I finally succumbed to the nausea and had to walk. By “succumb” I do not mean to say I threw up, though sometimes I thought I might just feel better if I did – get rid of that unabsorbed water and Gatorade hurting my stomach – but I was desperate not to be that person pulling off to the side of the path to hurl, so I gave up and walked until it eased. Over the last 4 or so miles, I mixed walking and running. I would run for a couple minutes until the nausea swelled again, at which time I’d step off the path to walk for a couple more minutes. After going through mile 22 in 9:29, the final four tick off a litany of awful, humiliating splits:

23 11:04
24 10:21
25 10:40
26 11:36

Yes. I walked in the final mile. I did not want to -- it was too disgraceful -- but I did not have a choice. I tried to run it, but the shame I felt by not being able to even jog the whole last mile was superseded by my desire not to be overcome by the nausea, not this close, so I ran/walked until it eased. I was able to jog the final stretch, though. I recognized the line of rail cars as I approached the very loud finish area, and knew I was almost through this.

In moments, I was running between a chute of the crowd and I thought I heard B as I plodded on, desperate for that finish line; I could not even turn my head back to quickly check if it had been him. I had been running for miles with my chin down, struggling on, and I couldn't spare the energy to try to look. He forgave me. "You weren't looking like you were doing too good there." No, I really was not.

And then, at last; at long, long last; the turn off the pavement onto the grassy area and the final tens of meters to the finish. As I approached the finish line, my name boomed out over the loudspeakers. Yes, that’s me – I’m done, in more ways than the obvious. I felt awful – stomach sick, legs dying. I collected my medal on the other side of the finish, and all I wanted was to lie down and throw up, but I held both desires in check as I slowly moved my way through a hot, defeated crowd, trying to find my way out of the finish pen. I held a cold and wet bottle of water in one hand that I could barely twist open, and was lassoed by a photographer to fake a giant smile holding my medal in front of a VCM backdrop. YES! the photo says, I FINISHED AND I’M HAPPY ABOUT IT!

I was happy to be finished, but I wasn’t happy about the finish. My net time was 3:49. This is nearly thirty minutes slower than I wanted to run this spring; twenty minutes slower than what I would have considered the very upper limit of acceptable. The only thing I could tell myself that was positive was 1) it was still under 4 hours, because there had been a point when I had doubted I would even crack that disappointing mark, and 2) it was still a long, long way from being a personal worst.¹

The crowded finish area amplified how awful I felt. I eventually broke free from the mob, and was walking gingerly through a parking lot when I realized that the place I needed to be to meet B and his parents was back on the grassy space I had left; I felt beaten down by that realization. I really had only so very little much left in my legs and system, and I was going to need it all just to make it back to the hotel; here I had expended more than you might have guessed going the wrong way. I honestly did wonder if I would be able to get back to the hotel on my own accord. Nevertheless, I had to find B before making that call; they would never find me over here if I collapsed. I crept back to that madhouse of a grassy area, almost dazedly heading toward the flags with initials on them, the family meeting area; suddenly B was there, his parents were there, and I could safely lie in the grass and not worry that my people were worrying about where I was.

In 2012, I should absolutely, hands-down, have gone to a medical tent at the conclusion of the race. I did not feel quite as shredded this year as I did then, because while I had not run exactly smart this day, I did not run as abjectly stupidly as I had in Boston – and was not so clearly and obviously destroyed, so I did not feel I needed to go to a medical tent. Should I be so foolish as to run another marathon when it’s above 80F, I will simply disregard any thought that I have no need to a medical tent; I probably do. With clarity of hindsight, I realize I should certainly have done so; it might not have been the worst, but I was in bad, bad shape, and an IV would likely have made a world of difference. Instead, I laid on the grass, letting that vague nausea wash up and over and away again, before heaving myself to my feet to creep the six blocks back to the hotel, expecting I’d be OK once I just got back, took a shower, and was able to cool off for a while. (Though I tried to keep up drinking water at regular intervals throughout the following days after this race, I fought the effects of dehydration for at least a week.)

It had gotten to the upper 80s, very nearly 90, and it was humid. In a cruel twist, the sky had begun to cloud over – during the time I had been on the bike path, under tree cover. By then, I don’t think it mattered much – the temperature was already too high and combined with the mugginess was probably stronger than any benefit of cloud cover. In fact, shortly after I had finished my race, the directors, using the Wet Bulb Globe Temperature that takes all these weather conditions into account, decided the conditions were too extreme to continue and canceled the rest of it.

There was controversy about this, of course, though I only read about it online later. Anyone who came across the finish line up to a time of 4:30 was given an official result (due to their probable location on the bike path at the time of cancellation, inability to access them with shuttle buses, etc.) but anyone else was meant to stop and hitch a ride back. Some people ignored the orders, and were upset that they didn’t get a finish time, but the race directors stood by their decisions, which they explained in detail. At times later in the race, I wasn’t sure if I would break 4 hours, but I knew I was well ahead of 4:30 barring an absolute disaster – in which case, I would have bailed, on my own, anyway – I'm glad I didn’t have to deal with obeying orders and sucking up that disappointment on top of everything else.

I had to pause several times on the way back to the hotel. Half a block from the hotel, seated on the front stoop of an office building, I looked up at B, who stood at my side (as he has for every marathon I’ve run while he’s been my boyfriend, except the one in Des Moines) and said “I am not running another marathon this year. Don’t let me try to change that decision.” Normally, I do not consider decisions made during a race or its immediate aftermath to be binding, but I think this time, it is appropriate. As disappointed as I am by the way this race turned out, after this arduous spring when I ran more miles than I ever had before in an equal time period, I cannot immediately turn around to give it another shot – the way I did in 2014 after I quit the Boston race and made up for it in Vermont. It’s too late in the season for a make-up marathon and besides, I went the whole distance this year; wouldn’t be good (AT ALL) for my legs to try to run another any time soon. I am just going to have to accept that sometimes, things just don’t go the way you’d planned them to, and that’s just how it’s going to have to be. I have a very nice qualifying time for Boston 2017 in my pocket – 3:24 is 20 minutes better than the qualifying time for what will be my new age group – so I do not need to worry about reaching that mark (because I certainly did not on Sunday May 29th). I will spend the rest of this year recovering, recharging, and getting ready to get ready for my master’s marathon debut in April 2017.

Also, the next time I face a marathon with temperatures in the 80s, I think I am now more likely to say thanks but no thanks. I’m not sure collecting a medal and being able to say I finished in such torturous conditions is really worth the physical (and psychological) cost.

To conclude this long race report, I want to thank the Vermont City Marathon team and volunteers for putting on such a well-organized race, and heartfelt thanks as well to the citizens of Burlington for making an inevitably miserable day slightly less so. (Special gratitude to the ice-water sponge man.) I don’t know if I will run this race again – I don’t know how many more marathons I have left in me, and I’m thinking I might avoid the late May risk of heat from now on – but I will always fervently recommend this race to anyone that asks; and B and I are already making plans to return to Burlington for non-running pursuits, because the town is so cool. (Even when it is so hot.)

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¹When your personal worst is 4:18, it’s not a difficult feat to run poorly and still be well under that.

The day before

We arose Friday morning in Burlington, the day already sunny and warm. I didn't go out for a short, easy run. The day grew warmer and warmer, and by noon was already in the 80s. The forecast for Sunday morning has not looked good all week, and the expected temperature has crept up and up each day. It was in the upper 80s on Friday; fully hot when we stopped at the race expo to pick up my packet and t-shirt and other goods. The volunteer who handed me my bib explained to me that it would be extra-critical this year to fill out the emergency information on the back. Discouraging to think about it, but let's face it -- I don't want it to be necessary and not have the info there.

While at the expo, a man got in line behind (or, to be more precise, next to) me, and asked me if I was running the race. I hope my face did not say what my brain thought: why would I be in line here, if not? (Maybe he thought I was with the guy in front of me; if so, that's irritating.) I told him yes, and he said "Great!" Then it was my turn to be helped, and I left him there after I got my packet. He turned up again a little bit later, after I had confirmed that the chip on the bib was functioning correctly and was buying a handful of gels that I will use in the race. Right at my shoulder, he said, "Do those work?" I told him that they do work, or maybe it's all in my head, but either way I seem to have a less awful time getting through the final 6-10 miles if I use them. He said that if I endorse them, then he might just try them -- what was the best flavor? What did I have? Salted caramel? He would try those.

Yikes, dude! I tried to tell him that I wouldn't recommend using them for the first time on race day! Some people's systems do not respond favorably to these and I tested them out over several long and/or tough workouts to see how my insides would deal with them. I am not sure he quite heard me, and I decided to just get out of there. I don't want him to really remember what I look like so that he can blame me if he tries them for the first time tomorrow and has to drop out because he gets an upset stomach.

This morning, I got up around 7 and went out for the short, easy run that I did not do yesterday. I jogged along the path by the lakefront that will be the site of the final miles of the race. A great deal of activity going on down there -- tents being set up, a train of trucks bringing porta-potties, getting ready for some sort of kid's fun run, etc. It was kind of exciting, coming back after going out for 15 minutes, to pass by the grassy space which is where the finish line will be -- I'll be there a little more than 24 hours from now, I hope. The half hour confirmed that my legs do, in fact, still know how to run, they are still fine, there are no heretofore-undiscovered injuries that decided to make themselves known today. I also confirmed that it is, in fact, quite warm, and that there is no getting around it, it's going to be absolutely unpleasant tomorrow. Given the forecast is not likely to dramatically change for the better in the next 24 hours, I think the best that I can hope for is that it will be cloudy. I won't waste time hoping it will be cooler. There is a long out-and-back portion in the first half of the race that will be completely exposed to the sky, and if the sun can just stay covered up at least for that part, it will go a long way. My recollection of the course is that most of the rest of the run will have some degree of cover, and the race has announced they will have extra water, ice, sprinklers, etc. in the later parts to help alleviate the heat-related misery. So, sun -- while I generally love you very much -- please stay tucked away behind clouds tomorrow, at least until noon? Thanks!

The high is predicted to be 85F, with a low of 66F, and a race-start temperature of 72F. That is way outside the range of good, and I have pretty much no experience this spring running in anything that hot. But I have no control over it, obviously, and I am (I hope) smarter than I was in Boston in 2012 when I foolishly shrugged off the warning about the heat. I have time goals for tomorrow, but I'm going to try to be sensible about trying to reach them.

There are a couple "tries" in that statement because there have been times when no matter how hard I work to stay controlled, I have let myself get swept up in things. I can only promise that I will TRY not to. 2012 wasn't so long ago that I have completely forgotten what it was like to be so stupid, and I hope the memory of that will be strong enough to hold me back if I need to.

So, today: lots of water drinking, carb it up for lunch and dinner, lots more water-drinking, and get to the starting line fresh and ready to run in the heat. I just can't worry about it. I hate the phrase "It is what it is" because it's used too much to excuse things that shouldn't be excused, but in this case it really is what it is, and I will run how I can without destroying myself the way I did in 2012. If I start feeling like I did that time, I will drop out.

One last glass-half-empty moment: I really wish I had been able to get at least one 22-er in this training cycle. It didn't work out for different reasons and even though a 22-er isn't necessary, it's just beneficial for the mental battle to know I've gone over that 20-mile hill. But I just can't worry about that, either. That cannot be changed and there is nothing that can be done about it now. I did a number of solid and tough 19-20s, so I can focus on that. And now that that last little negativity is done, let's be as positive as I can be, facing a broiler: the marathon is unpredictable, even on days when the weather is ideal. You can have some idea of how it should play out, but sometimes things go wildly differently -- in both directions. If I run smart, I can still finish well.

Week #16: keep going

Summary for week ending Sunday, April 17, 2016:

Number of workouts: 6
Total miles run: 51.48
Average miles per run: 8.58

Miles in April: 127.11
Miles in 2016: 721.53

Mixed running on trails and paved paths. Managed not to fall again on the trails (though had a close call on Friday), leg though scraped up did not bruise as badly as when I fell in February so is not as uncomfortable. Weather very much improved over the week, warming to the 60s and 70s. This did bring out a lot more people to have to run around but I'm feeling magnanimous so won't kvetch (too much) about them walking three across, forcing me to step off into grass. (How can even two people manage to take up the entire width of the path?!) Satisfying tempo workout on Thursday (2 mi E + 3(10 min T) + 2 mi E where my legs felt better with each T segment -- the new normal seems to be that it takes me a few miles to really feel good and in the groove. The T didn't feel quite as free as on Sunday but not a reach to keep appropriate effort. Very glad I decided not to do the trail race on Saturday as that Thursday workout left my legs tired and Saturday morning's easy run was a drag.

Long run on Sunday ended up being 17 instead of 19 with 12 at MP rather than 15. Discovered a new place for flat long running: the Michael Castle Trail along the C&D Canal. It was very sunny and warmish -- in the 60s. Starting at Biddle Point, I ran easy east toward Delaware City until the trail ends (for now -- it's clear they are working on extending it all the way to Delaware City), about 1.8 miles, then turned back and picked up pace while running west past my starting point toward the US13 / DE1 bridges. I thought I'd run that direction for 2 miles and then turn back, stop at the car for water and a gel. That would be around 7 miles, I thought, just about when I like to take my first gel of a long run. It turned out to be too long; I should have stopped for water when I was on my way past the car around 3.5 miles. I had considered it, but didn't want to take a break after having only done about a mile or so at pace, just getting started, preferring to get a little more at pace in before stopping. MP had started out feeling pretty comfortable but by the time I got to the DE1 bridge, it was starting to feel more work-y and I was thirsty. The trail is totally open to the sky, with no cover whatsoever -- at least on the 4-5 mile stretch of it I was on -- except for those brief moments passing under the bridges, which are negligible -- and that was great for the Garmin and being more accurate with apparent pace, but it was not great for physiology. The sun was very warm and took a tough toll, one that I have not experienced yet this year. Because I had never run here before, I was not familiar with the landmarks, so even though it was out-and-back, I did not really have a good sense of how much I still had to run until I made it to the car. It wasn't very enjoyable, but when I saw the beat-up looking dock next to the trailhead, I was elated.

It's so very hard not to guzzle water when you're at such a point. I sucked down a gel and washed it with a few more swallows of water, managing to restrain myself. It felt like enough, and then I started running east again. It was not long before I felt thirsty once more.

The damage had been done. If I had stopped for water at 3.5 mi, it might have mitigated the effects of the sun and heat early, and I might have gotten another couple solid miles at MP in. As it was, it was all I could do to get in 11, and I barely count the 12th because I was fading fast. More liquids, another gel, and I even carried a water bottle with me for the last 3-4 "easy" miles. (Very uncomfortable, very hard not to hammer the whole bottle at once.) Given how awful I felt, I was satisfied enough with what I ended up having done. I had started to feel a little like the way I did in Boston 2014, when I had to drop out: stomach feeling a little queasy, never getting better and even a little worse even after drinking. In the 2014 race, I quit at mile 18; Sunday, I quit at 17. More lessons learned (the hard way, unfortunately): water is more important than getting in time at pace. If I could drink on the fly in training the way I can in a race, it would be easier, but unfortunately, unless B rides a bike right along with me (which he has done a couple times in the past), I'm stuck having to take short breaks. (I won't wear one of those fuel belts with bottles.) Funny how every year, I run in sun and warmth, but the first times of the season often catch me off guard and I don't do it right. A day with weather like Sunday's is deceptive; just standing around, it was pleasant, a nice breeze, even maybe a slight bit cool, but running with no shade was down right hot. 60s and 70s are extremely lovely, but too warm to be "great" for running at elevated efforts over long distances.

07:44.8, 07:42.4, 07:45.6, 07:42.6, 07:42.1, 07:45.5, 07:48.5, 07:45.5, 07:40.4, 07:41.1, 07:49.2, 08:00.7

The trail along the canal is great though -- absolutely sea level with only a little rippling that you barely notice (except when you're exhausted -- somehow even the smallest ups and downs are hard then). There were a lot of people out on bikes enjoying the pretty day, but no one interfered with my running at all, and I only saw two other runners; a handful of walkers, but the majority of users were on bikes. Early in the run, a ship turned into the canal under the DE9 bridge and cruised along parallel to the path. It was the Demeter Leader, and, according to Google, is a vehicles carrier from Panama; myshiptracking.com indicates it docked at Baltimore at 21:37 on Sunday. It made almost no sound as it passed by, pretty much only the whush of the water in its wake. It was amazing that such a gigantic beast of a ship could make less noise going by than a car. It was also a little eerie because there was no sign of people on the ship, so it was just a silent, almost alien-seeming long and huge blue and white box moving by. Other than that, only speedboats and other personal watercraft whizzed by occasionally. Mostly it was quiet but for the sounds of birdlife. Except for feeling pretty cruddy as I went on, I enjoyed it there. It's another place for pace work to keep in my pocket. Closer than the Schuylkill trail and better, actually, because of the openness.

Upcoming week: days of easy mileage and then Saturday morning is the Tommy 10-miler in Lewes. Longest long run on Sunday.

Week #15 -- pile up the miles again

Summary for week ending Sunday, April 10, 2016:

Number of workouts: 6
Total miles run: 56.53
Average miles per run: 9.42

Miles in April: 75.62
Miles in 2016: 670.05

Spent most of the week on the treadmill. I doubled on Monday, with the evening run outside in relatively nice temperatures but a stiff wind ruining it. Had a business trip mid-week so did shy of 7 on Wednesday morning inside; could not force myself to get up early at the hotel to get in a few miles Thursday morning after a pretty late night of business socializing and then watching a terrible, late Flyers game. Two rest days last week, had to squeeze in miles on Friday and Saturday. Friday looked nice out, with a lot of lovely sun, but the temperature wasn't exactly nice and the damn wind was definitely not nice, so I voluntarily chose to run 10 miles on the treadmill instead. It felt pretty good after ~36 hr of rest. Saturday arrived with wind and snow-slash-rain and I was certainly not going to run in that if I had another option; fired the Landice back up for another ten that didn't feel quite as good as Friday but still pretty reasonable as I forced the pace to stay easy (average HR ~140).

Legs already had a little more than 35 miles in them when I started today's long workout: 2 mi E + 2(10 min T) + 10 mi E + 15 min T + 2 mi E. These workouts with a mix of relatively lengthy T and a long easy interval in the middle are tough but effective. It was not as windy as it has been recently but it was still windier than I'd like; I am heartily sick of fighting significant headwinds during my T workouts. The sun is strong and pretty warm, but the air was borderline chilly and the wind ruined it again. However, I surprised myself by feeling really good in the first two T intervals in spite of the stretches of wind in my face -- I didn't look at the pace, but ran only by effort. T effort was faster than it has been, which pleased me. 7:02 average for the first 10 min, 6:53 average for the second 10 min. The 10 miles in the middle were a bit of a drag and my legs felt on autopilot and not at all responsive. I did not expect the last 15 min T to feel very good at all, and I told myself I'd get to 10 minutes and see how it felt; I could quit at 10 if my legs were crumbling or struggling. The wind kind of felt like it had picked up a bit, but that might have been my frustrated imagination. It seemed to take a while to wind up from easy pace to T effort and my legs were heavy, but I was again surprised at how they responded to my orders to run hard -- 7:10 pace did not feel like I was overreaching on effort, and when I got to 10 minutes I just kept on through the whole 15. It was actually a bit hard to knock off down to easy again afterward, almost as though it would have felt better to keep running harder. I wanted to get my HR back down to near 140 for the last easy two miles, but at 145 bpm I did not feel that I could run any slower. My legs were on autopilot again and they would not listen when I tried to bump them down; it was 8:45 pace and, ok, fine. I was done at a little more than 19.5 miles. It's the longest workout so far this year, certainly the toughest, and I'm pretty happy with myself for getting it done with good pace and good effort. I think that race really did my system good and I think I am reaping benefits from making sure I run the easy runs easy.

Learning, learning. Next week a medium-long T workout and a 19 mile long run on Sunday with 15 mi at MP. I'm getting into the meatiest part of the training cycle. Now, if only the weather could warm up a little bit and the wind could knock it the heck off. I don't want to see snow again until November at least. Seriously! I drove up to a Flyers game Saturday afternoon in a veritable blizzard of huge, heavy, wet snow. It was very nearly a white-out. It was ridiculous. Let's be done with that, April.

Caesar Windy -- er, Rodney wrap-up

While trying to get past race-eve nerves and get to sleep, a thunderstorm rolled through with strong winds that threw rain and what sounded like tiny hail against the windows, and I knew that it had arrived. All night, the windows rattled and my insides churned with frustration knowing the temperature was dropping precipitously, too. The morning arrived all sunny and pleasant-appearing, and the news said it was in the 30s outside.

I tried on some shorts and went out to give it a test. In the sun, and in a sweet, brief moment of calm between gusts, it was almost OK. Then the wind exhaled with force again and, well, no. Back inside to put on tights, a long-sleeved shirt, and short-sleeves over it. The last time I had to cover up so much was for the Philly marathon in 2008. I hated it then, and I hated it Sunday morning. Any time that I have to wear tights or long pants, I automatically feel slower; but I was not going to be comfortable in shorts. I have toughness, but it has a limit. I might have been able to suffer shorts for a shorter race, but not for more than an hour and a half for a half-marathon.

As I hung around Rodney Square with B, waiting for it to be time to line up at the start, I wore a parka and another pair of pants over my tights, and the little Flyers stocking cap I use for running when it's cold enough to cover up my head.



I watched other runners mill about, dressed in pretty much the whole range of apparel: even more covered up than me down to split shorts and singlets. The wind whipped and swirled downtown, snapping flags and signs stuck to tables, and I half-thought about keeping the second pants on for the race and did not want to take off my parka. When it came time to line up, I took off the stocking cap too, only to tug it back on as the wind bit at my ears. I might get too warm wearing it, but I'd rather take it off and hold it at some midpoint of the race than get started and wish I had it. Second layer of pants came off and the tights barely helped, standing in the shade of buildings while the wind rushed around. Fortunately, the pre-race chitchat was kept to as much of a minimum as can be expected -- the anthemist didn't even drag out the song -- and a horn sent us off. (They quit using a cannon a couple/three years ago.)

I ran a little conservatively in the first 5-10K but it wasn't without help. The wind was brutal. When it was in my face, I struggled against it. When it was at the side, it tried to knock my legs together to trip me. When it was behind, it pushed such that it threw off my stride's rhythm. It would swirl around, so that one second it was pushing my face, then shoving me along. It sliced through my layers when it was in front of me, but when it was behind me, the sun was strong enough to make me feel too hot. I questioned what I was wearing only until rounding a turn and being hit with the wind again. It was difficult to pace, but I tried to maintain an effort around or under 7:30 as best I could.

7:24.5, 7:22.7, 7:29.8, 7:27.4, 7:14.4, 7:28.7
It's pretty flat for much of the first 5 miles in the riverfront area, then heading back through the city and around up to Tower Hill we get the hill experience. The wind was in my face for the three mile uphill, and while a good portion of it was somewhat protected by trees around the road, it still was a formidable opponent. As I started up this section, I saw a man in a blue shirt up ahead with a familiar gait -- a former coworker, P, who runs the Caesar Rodney pretty much every year. In 2014 I passed him around mile 11 and was pretty happy to finish ahead of him (we usually finish around the same time, but he's usually a little ahead of me). He was 20 meters or so ahead of me, and I told myself not to let him get too far away. I very slowly, but very steadily gained on him along this uphill range, finally catching him at the top as we rounded Tower Hill. I left him behind as at that point, about 4 miles remain and most of it is flat or downhill. I usually decide at this point I can start to squeeze the pace, because there isn't much left to cover if I blow up in a mile or two. I squeezed, but the wind had other ideas during some portions of this remaining 4 miles, until the last two or so which is down the hill we had hiked up earlier. Going up that hill I ended up around 8 min/mi and I let myself fly (controllably) down the hill with the wind behind me to try to make up a few seconds; unfortunately, by here, the hay is mostly in the barn. I remember glancing back on the hill to see if a blue shirt was close behind, but I didn't see it. I hung on along the flat portion of the last half mile, noting a fire being fought in a house next to the course; there is a sharp turn to head up a long and steep hill to the finish.

I fought wind and wind-driven fatigue up this hill and P caught me with about 200m to go. I pushed, but was pushed at in return, and I could not catch him. This irritates me, and I vow that next year, I will do all I can to make sure I put him away if I pass him mid-race. But good on P to catch me and leave me behind on the windy finishing hill.



I finished just under 1:40-- 1:39:45, which is acceptable only considering how hard it was to run in those conditions. It was good enough for 4th in F35-39 age group, 14th female finisher, 80th overall. There was a five minute gap between 3rd and me in the age group results. I'm guessing a lot of people chose not to run this year. Last year, I ran 1:39:36 and was 6th in the same age group, 30th female finisher, and 142nd overall.

It's hard to judge where I am in terms of fitness based on the result of this race, but I will take it at face value and look at it as having some work to do. Later this month, I plan on running a 10-miler and in a month, another half-marathon. I am going to assume that by the end of April and in the first week of May, it won't be in the 30s anymore, and I will hope and dream of a day when the wind is not gusting 20, 30, 40 mph, and I should be better able to put my fitness into perspective based on the results of those races.

Caesar Rodney 2016: a job done.

Half-marathon eve

My first race of 2016 is in 12 hours. I picked up my bib today and was surprised that it was, again, such a low number (last year I was 22). In many of the races I've run, the lower the number the higher you're seeded (and faster you're expected to run) but I can't imagine that's the case here. Until I line up tomorrow morning, maybe I will let myself fantasize that I am elite and that's why I got #15. (How I am sure bib numbers aren't any reflection on how fast they expect you to be: Philadelphia meteorologist and excellent runner Cecily Tynan is registered and is bib #11 -- she will kick my butt! There is no way I'm only 4 bib numbers slower than she is!)

It's tough to judge where I am for this race tomorrow. I ran pretty easy all week to "taper" and recuperate after a couple weeks of feeling ugh, and on my Saturday hour today my legs felt fresh and good -- so at least I am not too worried about them from that front. Where have my quality workouts gotten me to this point? is the real question. I always aim to run under 1:40 in a half-marathon (that being the upper limit of acceptable for me, as far as I'm concerned) and I think I should be able to, but -- the weather is not supposed to be very good: chilly (will it even be 40 at race time?) and super windy. I am pretty annoyed at the forecast because the whole purpose of running this race is to test my present fitness. What if I end up running 1:43 -- how will I know if that's because I'm only in 1:43 shape or maybe I am in 1:37 shape but the atrocious wind pushed me back? I may not be able to make any sense out of my time. To be honest, however, this is probably only going to really bother me if I run over 1:40. If I run anything under 1:40, I'm probably going to be satisfied enough; I just want to be able to put my finish time into proper perspective without having to make excuses/account for anything out of my control, like ridiculous wind.

This race is a week later than it usually happens, but last week was Easter so I suppose that's why it was moved. I'm annoyed because last Sunday, the weather was fine. 50s and for once, not windy.

Ok, think positive. There are still 12 hours to go. Maybe this forecast

*WINDS... WEST TO NORTHWEST 25 TO 35 MPH WITH GUSTS UP TO 60 MPH.

* TIMING... HIGHEST GUSTS AND GREATEST POTENTIAL FOR DAMAGING WINDS WILL PROBABLY BE FROM ABOUT 4 AM AND 9 AM SUNDAY.
won't actually happen. (After all, the race isn't until 9:30 a.m. Ha ha!)

(GUSTS UP TO 60 MPH. IT REALLY SAYS THAT.)

Week #12 -- feeling rough

Summary for week ending Sunday, March 20, 2016:

Number of workouts: 6
Total miles run: 56.45
Average miles per run: 9.41

Miles in March: 155.71
Miles in 2016: 527.58

Started the week with a 10-miler that bored me; refreshed myself with an easy trail run; then a T workout with a bubbly, squishy stomach and tired legs. On Friday I debated resting my legs or taking it easy on the trails again; I opted for the latter, and mostly enjoyed it, telling myself that it was going to be the last nice day of the week and I should take advantage of it. Saturday's hour was very slow, much slower than I thought, but I didn't really even try to work hard -- kind of like how I let my legs go on the trails, except this time not on the trails. I guess 9:00/mi is me not even trying to work. It was one of those have-to-get-it-done, just-get-it-done-whatever efforts in discouragingly overcast, low 40s; I almost overdressed because I guess I have quickly forgotten what one wears when it's 43 out, but even a light wind across the reservoir feels uncomfortable at that temperature so my layers weren't too much after all.

Sunday's scheduled workout was no walk in the park; I suppose there isn't much point to walk-in-the-park Sunday workouts if you want to try to run a PR or get as close to it as possible. T workouts are supposed to be tough. 2 mi E + 4(5 min T) + 60 min E + 15 min T + 2 mi E. I had actually looked forward to it, because the forecast Nor'easter bringing snow/rain for the day fell through and it was going to be dry, if cold -- I had expected to be running it on the treadmill, and instead I was given a reprieve and could run it outside. It was low 40s again and I wanted to do the run at Paper Mill Park, where I am never far from the car for fluids and fuel for the long effort. The sun was even coming out a little bit as I approached and saw, to my dismay, the park was overrun with kids playing soccer. I didn't know how long they were going to be there, so I wasn't even going to try to attempt to run fast on the path with all those little creatures sure to get in the way. I should have driven up to a high school and run on a track, but the idea of doing 60 min around and around was only slightly less zzz-ing than the idea of doing it on the treadmill; instead I turned around and went to the reservoir, where the flat 1.1-mile loop would seem to be a fine substitute location for this T workout.

One problem with the reservoir is that the parking lot is at its base, a 0.35 mile spur off the loop that is one, long hill. So, if I need a drink or gel, I have to figure in 0.7 miles into the workout, easy one way, not so easy the other. I decided I would run the 2 mi E and then just go right into the 4x5 min T, and get a drink and gel on my way out to do the middle 60 min E on other paths away from the reservoir. It wasn't hot out, I would probably be OK without having a sip in the middle of the T intervals.

I think I was wrong. My right side flared up and it was agonizing during the first two and a half T intervals; this happens typically when I have not had enough to drink, even though I did not feel thirsty. It was cold and I didn't relish the idea of that 0.7 mile spur just to get a sip, so I toughed it out, having to forcibly concentrate on maintaining form and breathing through the ache. Partway though the third interval, it seemed to dull somewhat -- still there, just not as on fire. It was enough of a relief to get through the fourth, and then head down to the car for fluids.

I was in a bad mood. The sideache was a complication I did not like to deal with, but mainly I was sour about the other problem with the reservoir: it is up and there is nothing around it that blocks the wind, which was blowing constantly at ~15 mph (according to the weather report). So for at least half of the loop, I was running right into a hand of chilly wind that has every malicious intention of making my T effort worse than it needed to be. I like doing T intervals where it's flat so that I can maintain a pace/effort correlation that makes sense. When the wind interferes, that pace/effort correlation is impossible to resolve. I decided that if I could get the intervals done in an average pace of less than 7:30/mi I'd call it satisfactory, but I'd have to look at the HR data later to see how it compared to other T workouts to get an idea if the effort was appropriate.

I wasn't feeling all that hot, let's face it. Sideache-plagued, defiant-wind T intervals, lowering sky and a temperature that was just on the edge of being too cold for shorts; and I was only about a third of the way done. I trotted down the spur to the car. In the parking lot, a pair of tiny dogs came racing toward my feet, yapping wildly and indignantly that I dared tread on their asphalt; their owner jokingly called out to me, "Just kick them!" (Only if they bite me.) The other owner asked me if it was very windy up there. I did not mean for my answer to sound smart-alecky, but I'm afraid it did. I wanted to say it was if you were going in one direction directly into it and indicate which direction that was, but it came out "Half of it is!" Oh well. At least she laughed.

I had some water and Gatorade and put on a pair of pants and a second long-sleeved shirt for the easy hour, which I did away from the reservoir on paved rail trails. My side did not bother me and I ran slowly, again not even bothering to try to run faster than 8:50 or so pace. It was during this portion of the run I noticed that the Garmin was apparently having difficulty with my heart rate. Normally it is quite sensible and pretty consistent between paces, but today I couldn't believe what it was telling me. That 8:50-9:00 pace I was running did not feel quite as slow as it sounded like it should, but my legs were getting tired after a long week and some hard running, and when that happens sometimes what seems like it should be easy isn't as easy as all that. But the discrepancy between pace and perceived effort was nowhere near what it should have been had my HR actually been what the Garmin said it was -- over 160 bpm and often over 170. When I do T intervals, my HR seldom goes over 160, so I was astonished to see it claim that. No way did I feel I was working as hard as a 160+ bpm heart rate should feel no matter what the pace. I stopped a couple times to feel it for myself and it didn't feel physically out of control like that, so I was puzzled. When I started back up, it would drop to a more expected value of 140-145, hang out there for a while, and then next thing I knew it was back up to 160-170 (!).

I don't know what was causing it to fluctuate so wildly high this time, but it seemed to start during the T intervals earlier, where it spiked over 170 during the 3rd and then soared up and hung out well over 180 (!!) during the 4th. Ok, I was working hard in those intervals, but come on. Even if I could maybe buy 180 during a too-fast T interval, I do not believe 170 during easy 9:00/mi running. Something was causing a misread there, and even though I figured I could ignore what it was saying, it still bothered me and staying in the corner of my mind; what if it was that fast and for some reason I just couldn't reconcile it with how it felt? Was it going to be dangerous for me to do the 15 min T after the easy hour?

I did the 15 min T, but at a pace much slower than I would like T to be, but, that wind and those tired legs meant the effort was 7:30/mi and that was just going to be good enough. 2 mi E after that and I was done. I guess to put into perspective how bad I felt for much of this workout, that tough last 15 min T and 2 mi E felt the best of it all, and that's not saying much (gives me evidence that those gels really do work, though -- I took one after the 60 min and before the final T effort). I got the whole workout in, I got the whole week's worth of workouts in, and I am very glad to call it a job done well enough and take Monday off to let my legs recover, to hope the sideache cools off and recharge myself for another 50+ week. Here's hoping for something warmer than 40 and can we please keep the wind to a minimum for once?

The Caesar Rodney half-marathon is in two weeks. I really can't guess yet how it might go. If I can feel good during this midweek's T workout and the extended marathon pace run on Sunday, I will be better equipped to make a judgment call.

Week #11 -- up again

Summary for week ending Sunday, March 13, 2016:

Number of workouts: 8
Total miles run: 56.62
Average miles per run: 7.08

Miles in March: 99.27
Miles in 2016: 471.13

After last week's step-down, this week felt like all I did was run. Logged 10+ Tuesday and Wednesday when the weather was quite warm, had a T workout on Thursday (including warm up and down, approximately 10 miles there too) that left my legs feeling a little heavy by the end, some easy relatively short running Friday and Saturday on the trails (which were in fine shape after a week of dry high 70s), and a 15-miler on Sunday, at the end of which I was feeling every single one of those miles run during the week.

The weather went from cool to hot to cool again over the week, and it was not exactly nice this weekend. Sunday's long run was mostly done during cool showers or sprinkles and was not comfortable or pleasant in general. Over the last year, whenever I have to run in the rain, I make myself feel better about it by viewing it side-by-side with 2015's Boston race: either it's the same cold rain and I can remind myself that I don't have to run anywhere near as far in it, or it's not as cold so I can tell myself I don't have to run nearly as far in it AND it's not going to turn me into a popsicle. Either way, it's an improvement and I can get through the unpleasantness OK. I noticed that along one side of the reservoir, a single long line of purple crocus were blooming, which was a nice sight every time I came around to them. I wouldn't say this was a good long run, just OK. During the last five miles, my legs were feeling wooden and in an odd way like I was on a treadmill -- they were just turning at the rate they had to turn as though the treadmill belt was moving under me at 8:15 pace and I just had to keep up, though I did not feel like I was forcing that pace or working hard at it, nor did I feel like I needed to or should slow down. They mechanically kept going and I didn't even have to think about it much.

But I was looking forward to being done, as it was getting a little boring looping the flat reservoir trail and taking my one detour down to run along Creek Road a ways. Need to start mapping out some variety in long run routes. Trouble is, it's just so hilly in my neck of the woods -- long, long, and not-so-shallow hills that really start to take their toll well before you are ready for them to. Hill running has its positives, and Vermont City has a brutal hill in the middle so I can't avoid working them entirely, but the rest of the course isn't all that horribly hilly so I don't need to be doing excessive hillage every single weekend!

Next week will be another in the upper 50s for mileage, with two quality T workouts in the mix, so I will make sure to enjoy my rest day today and hope for good conditions when I head out tomorrow afternoon for the scheduled 10 miles. I'm not going to split it up with a treadmill morning the way I have been this winter (I have an early meeting, plus with daylight saving time upon us, I shouldn't have to be running in the dark by the end of it) so we'll see how that feels.

Week #10 -- take it easy

Summary for week ending Sunday, March 6, 2016:

Number of workouts: 7
Total miles run: 42.65
Average miles per run: 6.09

Miles in March: 42.65
Miles in 2016: 414.51

This was a scheduled step-down week. Weather was generally poor and chilly but not so bad so as not to get outside much, though when I did I typically had to contend with wind as well. The weekend quality workout on Sunday was very good -- not nearly so windy as last weekend (though it is March, so ...) but right at the temperature line where shorts is maybe slightly too cold but tights would definitely be too warm. 2 mi E + 6(5 min T) + 2 mi E with the T at 7:10-7:15 pace felt very good and my legs feel quite recovered from it today; I will still rest them as scheduled and look forward to ramping the mileage back up in the opposite temperatures forecast for later this week. While out around the reservoir a couple times this week I heard red-winged blackbirds, a sound that means warm sunny countryside to me; I took that as a welcome sign that perhaps the snow that we saw on Thursday might be the last for the season. The clock changes next weekend too, so this will be the last week I will have to worry that I might be out running when twilight drops, and I won't be confined to the park with the lights anymore. The first after-work trail session of the spring always makes me happy.

Week #9 -- things get in the way

Summary for week ending Sunday, February 28 2016:

Number of workouts: 6
Total miles run: 45.06
Average miles per run: 7.51

Miles in February: 187.44
Miles in 2016: 371.86

I was a little short this week compared to plan. Did a tough workout Wednesday night which left my legs a little too cooked to hit the treadmill Thursday morning, which meant I didn't run Thursday due to evening plans. Sometimes you just have to go with how things feel and life can get in the way -- no big deal, but I did have to let myself off the hook about taking an unscheduled rest day. Weekend T workout was next to impossible to judge because of the gale that blustered all day; even just trying to go off effort was useless because going into the wind was difficult and when the wind was at my back (which somehow seemed to not be half the time as you'd think it should be, going in a loop), how do you know how fast you're really running? Oh well. As part of Sunday's 12 miles, I got 2x10 min at ~7:20 pace in, whatever that means with the awful wind. February letting the lion out before March gets started.

Week #8 -- 50 miles

Summary for week ending Sunday, February 21 2016:

Number of workouts: 7
Total miles run: 50.42
Average miles per run: 7.20

Miles in February: 142.80
Miles in 2016: 326.80

Only on the treadmill one day last week -- weekdays of running in the cold, only to be rewarded at the weekend by comfortable spring-like temperatures. Last week -- 15F on Sunday drove me inside. This week, it was mid-50s when I went out for my 14-mile long run, overcast and a little sprinkly, but it warmed to about 60 with the sun coming out. Mid-run I felt a little full (like the peanut butter toast I had eaten mid-morning had expanded to fill up my whole stomach) but after a water and Gu break a little after 7 mi, I felt a lot better for no obvious reason. I crushed the last 10K, running much faster than I think I probably should have based on miles per minute and my training plan, but it felt easy and comfortable so I just went with it. Ended up feeling like one of the best-ever long runs. I got up to 50 miles this week -- building up at just the right rate.

Week #7 -- deep into winter

Summary for week ending Sunday, February 14, 2016:

Number of workouts: 7
Total miles run: 47.35
Average miles per run: 6.76

Miles in February: 91.95
Miles in 2016: 276.37

The weather was all kinds of wretched this week, so I only got outside twice. Did today's 13-mile mix of tempo and easy running on the treadmill, too, because I didn't want to subject myself to an hour-forty-five of 15F-feels-like-1F even though it was super sunny. I opened the curtains on the windows next to the Landice and pretended I was running outside somewhere warm, as the sunlight through the windows was actually quite toasty on my right side. I stared at my in-progress accolades wall while I worked through 2 mi E + 5x5 min T + 60 min E; that last half hour of easy running got to be a real drag, but getting a good look at that unicorn medal from a year ago can still bring the motivation.

Supposed to warm up a bit this week after a messy day tomorrow, but lots of rain forecast on the warmest day so it might as well not be warm for all the outside running I'll be likely to do that day. Winter is starting to wear on me; a stretch of dry 30s and 40s would be welcome.

Week #4

Summary for week ending Sunday, January 24, 2016:

Number of workouts: 6
Total miles run: 40.80
Average miles per run: 6.80

Miles in January: 140.31
Miles in 2016: 140.31

Due to cold and other weather-related issues, I spent most of this week's miles indoors. At least this weekend's two runs were in front of the window full of daylight, which is probably the only thing that kept them from being total drags. It was a bummer to have to trade my only daytime runs of the week for indoor workouts, but there absolutely was no running outside on Saturday and it would have been slippery and risky to try it on insufficiently plowed roads on Sunday. I had difficulty getting into a groove where time seemed to pass itself quickly. I probably need to vary the grade more often while I'm running on the treadmill. It's not going to be very helpful in general if I keep it at 0% all the time. It's just easier that way (in more ways than one), but if I have to pay attention to changing the grade and/or pace, it might keep the run more interesting. Well, this was the last week of maintenance and quality workouts are now on the schedule; there will be plenty of paying attention to changing the pace for many of those.

Week #3

Summary for week ending Sunday, January 17, 2016:

Number of workouts: 5
Total miles run: 36.84
Average miles per run: 7.37

Miles in January: 99.51
Miles in 2016: 99.51

No run shorter than 10K this week. During every run, I felt better and better as I went along, particularly Sunday's long effort. For that run, I was feeling so fine I added about 3/4 of a mile more than the last two weeks to hit 11 on the day -- turned on the metronome and turned out the miles. Had I gone fifteen minutes later today, I would have ended the run in snowfall. I guess it is really winter now. I wore a new pair of tights (a Christmas gift) today that were maybe a little too much for the 37 degrees -- they seemed a little more reinforced against weather that we weren't quite having yet and there were times when I felt a little constrained and warm. I hate having to wear long pants to run, but when it dips below 40, I'm just not comfortable enough in shorts (unless it's a race -- then I might tough it out). It isn't going to be very warm this upcoming week, so I may get an opportunity to use them in more appropriate conditions (assuming I don't wuss out and hit the treadmill instead, which will probably happen at least once). How long is it until spring?

Common cold, and how it's changed me

I don't mean the illness. I'm healthy on that front, have been since I picked up a Canadian cold virus in Toronto in December 2014; I do my part to avoid grabbing another somewhere. I mean the kind that is outside everywhere, permeating my every cell and leaving me almost as miserable as I would be if I were sick.

I grew up in Iowa. Winters are not kind in that state. Some years they start early, with snow and misery happening even in October, and some years they linger into April, when you'll be surprised with a cold and damp snow mid-month just as you're starting to think you might be in the clear. In Iowa, you're almost guaranteed at least a week of shatteringly cold nights and daytime highs that struggle to reach even zero Fahrenheit, and these are almost always accompanied by a razor wind that intensifies the effect. On such days, even wearing glasses hurt, the frames resting on the bridge of my nose and feeling like two needles sucking every last iota of warmth away. The rest of the time, it's just your normal freezing cold, sometimes snowing, sometimes icing, sometimes crystal-blue-sky sunny; always, always cold.*

Given the 30-ish years I spent in this yearly tundra, you'd think that I'd have built up some kind of immunity to it. I now live on the East Coast, where it gets cold in the winter, but typically not that kind of cold. A stretch of days in the 20s is about as bad as it gets, with rare forays into deeper chill; average highs are in the 40s for the winter months, which, when you think about it, should actually feel quite tolerable compared to Iowa where the average highs are about ten degrees colder. The problem is that I very quickly acclimated to the milder winter; I was already having more and more difficulty handling the cold with every year that I lived in Iowa, and after one winter in Delaware, I had softened almost completely. I seldom go back to Iowa for the Christmas holiday anymore, generally due to some outright wretched traveling experiences at that time of year, but also, in large part, because I simply cannot stand the temperature. The last time I went, the warmest it got the whole week was on Christmas day: ~25 degrees. And it felt splendid. (Is it not a sad thing, when the cold is so awful that you are uplifted when the temperature manages to climb to 20? 20 is not warm!)

During the second half of my graduate school tenure, I started up running seriously again. It had been a few years since I ran with an almost-every-day regularity, and when winter came, I did not put it back on the shelf because I was afraid it would be too difficult to start it up again; also, I didn't want to quit running. I would not stoop to running on the very short indoor track at the Field House or, even worse, on a treadmill.** I went out. I ran after the day's work in the lab, so it was dark and the daily high temperature had long sunk with the sun. It was usually well below freezing, and sometimes I had to slather polymers on my exposed face to protect it. My stipend was not generous, so I did not have an array of expensive technical running gear, either. In fact, I had one long-sleeved shirt that was made for running and was not cotton. Of course, cotton is the worst base layer, but unless I wanted to wash that one technical shirt every single night (naturally, I did not), long-sleeve t-shirts were all I had. Until Santa brought me a lined, nylon Adidas jacket in 2002,*** I also did not have any good, lightweight outerwear; I had sweatshirts and a fleece that I loved. (One particularly cold night, I wore the running shirt and the fleece together, and when I was done, I had frost spread across my shoulders. I was amazed at this evidence of how well the running shirt and the fleece worked to wick moisture away to the outside.) I had two pairs of tights and two pairs of nylon pants, one of each I'd had since high school.

One of the attractive aspects of running is that you don't actually need expensive clothes to run, just whatever is adequate to protect from the elements, but now that I am no longer a poor graduate student or post-doc, I can allot a larger portion of my discretionary spending to lighter-weight, better-performing technical running gear. And looking back, I sometimes can't believe how much running I did weighed down by sweats and cotton long-sleeves getting damp and clammy against my torso. It was all I knew then, and I went out, night after bitterly cold night, and got some miles in. If it was "nice" (in the 30s or warmer), I might stay out for 45 minutes or an hour. However, if it dropped below 20, it got to the point where no matter how long I ran, my muscles struggled against the cold to get and stay warm; I usually would not stay out longer than half an hour under those conditions. I would only hang up the shoes and say "no thanks" if the temperature was in the single digits.

I used to be tough.

My years of running in Delaware winters have completely recalibrated my toughness. While snow is certainly not unknown -- see winter of 2009-2010, three giant storms with gross snowfall totals; last year seemed overly snowy in my opinion as well -- there have been several where snow was a stranger. In the winter of 2011-2012, I don't think there was a single measurable snowfall and I ran in shorts most of the season while training for Boston. I'm not completely soft; I will run in shorts until the temperature goes below 40. For the first few years, I ran outside all winter, taking the day off if it snowed or was unusually chilly and I didn't feel like braving it. Then, my workplace opened a small gym with treadmills.

I had never liked the treadmill. I very seldom had used one, because I was so averse to the very idea, and the only time I did use one for a significant stretch was when I was rehabbing a stress fracture in my foot and my PT didn't want me out on the pavement until well after it no longer gave me discomfort. I could not believe how slowly time passed while running on that thing at the Y. I forced myself not to look at the display screen; it would only discourage me to see that what had felt like twenty minutes was, in fact, five. I hated that I had to go to the Y late to make sure that I wouldn't have to wait for a machine. I hated every single thing about it, so when my foot healed, I intended never to go back to one. But then winter came, as it always done, and I needed to train through it for a spring marathon. I had no issues with rearranging the running schedule to get miles in if inclement weather interfered with my schedule, but there were weekly speed sessions that were hard to get done if I couldn't use the track or flat park, whether due to lack of daylight or snow or ice cover. Reluctantly, I took advantage of the treadmill at work.

It wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. Seldom did anyone else use the gym after work, and I had the workout room to myself most of the time. There was a TV in the room, but it was offset on the wall so I couldn't really watch it; I'd have it on just to prove to myself that time was indeed passing in the real world. I did quality workouts on that machine and some very long miles; threshold workouts and long runs with race-pace in the middle up to 19 miles. The treadmill miles kept me in good shape for my races, and my attitude about running on a machine shifted. My first choice would always be outside, if I had that choice, but even in a relatively mild winter, bad weather would crop up at a bad time. I did not dread those days anymore from a mental standpoint.

The only problem with the treadmill at the gym at work was that it was at work, and work is not a walkable distance from home. There would be days when it would not be prudent to stay at work and run, due to a storm arriving; there were days when weather would prevent me from going to work entirely. Once, I did a 15-mile race-pace workout there and when I emerged, it had snowed several inches, making driving home on as-yet unplowed roads a challenge. After a couple years of this, I finally sat down with myself and faced it: I had not liked how the weather could force me to use a treadmill, but I eventually acclimated to running on a machine; now I did not like how weather could force me to not be able to use that machine. Last year, I decided I'd make the plunge and splurge on my own. In February, I bought a Landice 7 Cardio. Since then, I've had a weird relationship with it. It was a snowier-than-usual winter and it served its purpose wonderfully; I no longer had to worry about getting to/from work to get a workout in if the weather was poor. Bad weather seemed always to hit just when I wanted or needed badly to get outside for a long run -- I needed long, hilly road work to prepare for Boston but it was hard to get out on many Sundays because of ice, or snow, or rain. I did a lot of long running on the Landice and it did its job, I liked the results, but I hated to have to use it. I found it dryly amusing that I had spent so much money on something I hoped I wouldn't have to use.

It was cold on Wednesday this week. The temperature never reached 40, and when I went out to run after work, it plummeted as twilight moved in. My toes went cold and then numb-ish before even half a mile. It's odd how overly-cold toes can both have no feeling yet also feel twice too large inside the shoes. After another 15-20 minutes, the feeling started to come back, which led them to feeling painfully hot for a few minutes before settling into being fine. By the time my toes had recovered, the rest of me was starting to feel too cold. I had not quite dressed right; after a mile or so, I'd wished I'd had tights on under my pants, another light layer over my long sleeves, and my real running gloves rather than the little stretchy ones. It's been since last March that it's been this cold -- cut me some slack for not getting it right on the first day out. I had wanted to do 6 miles, but I wasn't feeling it and stopped after 5.3, which is three laps around the park with lights on its path.

Thursday was slightly warmer, but I wasn't even going to give it a chance. I hit the treadmill at home and ran 10K. I am too soft now to want to run in sub-40F darkness. If it were daylight, I would have been more willing, but the combination of cold (that is, below 40) and dark is too off-putting anymore. I have been on the treadmill three out of four running days this week. Those nights of running outside unless it was single digits are long, long gone.

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*There are some days in the dead of winter in Iowa where there will be a lovely, beautiful anomaly and the high gets to 50-60-maybe even close to 70. While you should enjoy the diversion, do not trust it. Tomorrow -- maybe even this afternoon -- the cold will regain its bitter grip. Don't leave your winter coat at home.

**When I lived near Philadelphia as a post-doc, I did not trust to run outside in the darkness, so I ran on the indoor track on the Temple University campus. It was a great facility: 5 laps to the mile and wrapped around the upper reaches of the Liacouras Center, with windows providing views of the city. I tried to squeeze as many miles in as I could without having to take the later trains home, and I credit the work I did on this track as a large part of the reason I spent 2004 running PRs. I got in a solid base where running 7-7:30 miles was comfortable. When I think about running on that track, I can still smell the mix of working-out people and the track's flat, rubbery surface. I would have preferred to run outside, but this was an acceptable alternative. If there had not been this indoor track available, I don't know if I would have deigned to use a treadmill or would have steeled myself to run on roads I was not completely comfortable running. After about two years in Pennsylvania, I moved back to Iowa for a couple years, and it was back to running outside, even in the darkness.

***One of my all-time favorite jackets; it's a hot orangey-red color with dark gray stripes. I still wear it, but not usually while running.