Week 2 is complete....and an announcement...

Week 2 went pretty well. 25 miles for the week with a 9 mile long run. Easy peasy.

The announcement...I just accepted a new job in Columbus, Ohio. A good 4 hours from where I am now. Moving blows. Not just the physical get-our-stuff-from-here-to-there. But the getting the kids into a new school, finding new doctors/dentist/hair salon. Learning my way in a new, bigger city. Learning a new job with a new company.

This is something my husband and I have wanted for awhile now...finally the universe decided to line up and give it to us. Now, one of the cool things is that I'll be on my own, sans husband and kids for about 2 1/2 months (no, honey, I'm not saying I'm glad to be away from you). I'll be doing a huge amount of miles during this time, while not feeling guilty about taking time away from my family, because I'll be away from them anyway. By the time they move, I'll actually be on taper. And I can explore my new town on foot, which is always fun. And I have some imaginary running friends there, so I won't be doing all of my training all alone.

Right now, I'm trying to focus on the good parts, so I don't get all frustrated and riddled with anxiety. Because really, what kind of idiot makes a giant move while training for the biggest race of her life???

46 degrees and rain

Yeah, that's what was happening when I went for my run today.  I started looking at my schedule to see how I could finagle.  Then I remembered I promised a coworker I'd take her to lunch tomorrow.  Damn.  Then I looked at my "3:59:59" post it note.  Damn.  I went.  It was cold.  I ran too fast.  But it's done.  Booyah motherfuckers!

Note to self: Must stretch

I can feel my hips getting tight, which makes my lower back tight and my IT bands tight, which is just asking for trouble.  That and I made the mistake of wearing heels yesterday, so my calves are tight too.  Idiot.

Husband test: FAIL

Week one is complete!  I got all of my miles in...albeit a bastardized version of my schedule.  I had a crazy week, so on my two 3 mile days, I actually did a 2 and a 4.  No biggie.  I crossed off all my boxes.  With a full time job, hour long commute each way, and three kids, I do what I can, when I can.

Yesterday, I took the truck to be fixed.  Rather than have my husband follow me and drive me home, I just ran back.  He gave me the "you're a fuckin' weirdo" look, but I did it.  About halfway back, he passed me on his way to the store.  I stopped to chat for about a minute.  I thought I'd test him...I know I will need a butt kicking now and again to get out the door when I really don't wanna...I told him I was tempted to jump in the van with him. 

"You want me to drive you home?"

"NO!  Don't let me wuss out!"

"Ah!  I'm sorry I'm sorry!  Get your ass moving! RUN!" 

Heh.  Poor guy. Wait until he has to deal with the taper crazies.

To the some people who have bitched because I haven't written *cough*mom*cough* :  I had no great epiphany this week.  I'll write when I have something to say.  At least once a week, I expect, maybe more.  We'll see.  

Training *officially* begins today

Even though it's actually a rest day.  Heh.  But I get to start crossing off boxes!  And I'm starting to panic...wondering if I can really do this.  I made the mistake of looking ahead at my schedule where I get 45 miles per week including a 20 miler.  Who goes out on a Sunday and just runs 20 miles?  A fuckin' whacko, that's who.  I haven't done that kind of mileage since I was in college.  Ya know, back when I didn't have a full time job and 4 kids...uh...I mean, 3 kids and a husband.  And I still can't make myself say "3:59:59" out loud.  I feel like a little kid saying I'm gonna fly to the moon someday.  Is it possible?  Sure.  Probable?  Not so much.  I need to focus on each day not the entire schedule.  And in the immortal words of Dory....Just keep swimming...

Movin' right along.

Got my 3 miles in today.  5 miles yesterday.  I'm antsy.  Which is a good thing because it means I'm motivated and un-bored.  I can only imagine what the taper crazies will be like :o

During yesterday's run, I caught myself creeping towards 9 minute pace going downhill.  BUT I also dropped to 10:40 pace going uphill.  I really paid attention to my form and my breathing and that seemed to keep me on track.  Rest day scheduled tomorrow.  

60* is way better than 40*

I think Boston should be moved to say...June.  So I don't have to log a bunch of cold winter miles.

My training plan *officially* begins next Monday.  But I'm following week 1 for now.  I have this plan printed out and posted on my cube wall, along with this pace chart thingy that says I can run a 4 hour marathon (it lies).  I'm annoyed though.  It's just hanging there mocking me.  I don't get to cross off any of the little boxes yet.  In theory, having this plan staring at me everyday will keep me ON the plan.  And I'll feel great satisfaction from crossing off workouts.  Is this neurotic? Yes.  Inherited from my father?  Most likely.

My sister texted me over the weekend to bitch about how I don't have the donation website set up yet.  She apparently has checks made payable to Baypath Humane Society to hand over toward my fund raising goal instead.  From people I haven't seen in 15 years, and people I haven't met, like ever.  A) My sister rocks.  B) I'm in awe and C) I now have, like,  people I really really need to not let down.  Shit.

Migraines are a bitch

So I didn't end up running my 5 miles yesterday afterall.  I woke up at 6 am with perhaps the worst headache of my life...fuckin' hormones.  I was dizzy and nauseaus, but managed to stumble to the kitchen for my drugs.  If anyone had seen me, they would have believed I was drunk!  I then stumbled back to bed for 5 more hours of sleep.  I got up and managed some coffee, but still held on to the headache hangover for the rest of the afternoon.  I even fell asleep on the couch again for a couple of hours.

Today, I felt much much better.  I forced myself from the comfort of my sweats and out into 50* and rain for my 8 miles.  I'm still struggling with finding pace.  10 minute miles just don't feel right, especially when I'm simultaneously trying to keep my form from going all wonky.  I kept an eye on the Garmin and I swear everytime I checked, I was around 9:30 pace, even though I never felt like I was moving beyond 10's.  I had one asshole who thought she/he would be cute and move closer to me, rather than away as they came barreling down the road at me.  I'm pretty sure the rock bouncing off the hood scared them far more than they did me ;)  Anyway, I got my 8 miles in 1:19:41.  Not too shabby. 

My Almost Kinda Sorta Coulda Been Near-Death Experience

I'm trying something a little different in my training...a rest day.  That's not to say I'm one of those freaky streaker people who never takes a day off.  On the contrary.  I run much less than most people who know me probably realize.  What I mean is, I never schedule a rest day. My rest days are usually "Ok, I'll get my bag packed to run at lunch." (lunchtime) "Nah, I don't feel like running today, so I'll take today off."

What I didn't realize was that while my body was resting, my brain was not.  I had planned all day to run only to crap out and just not do it. My brain wasn't getting a break to not think about going for a run.  I think this may have something to do with my constant struggle with consistency (ya think?).

Yesterday afternoon, after I did my run, I was trying to decide if I should run Friday and take Saturday off, or take Friday off and run Saturday.  I planned the route I would run during lunch on Friday vs. the route near my home on Saturday.  Looking at my schedule - which *officially* begins December 12 - it calls for off Friday, run hard Saturday.  So be it.

Today, during my lunch break, the would-be time to run, I sat quietly and enjoyed a book.  I came back from lunch to find that the planned route (had I run today) had a major car crash on it, during the time that I would have been running.  A dude had a seizure and lost consciousness, veering across the center lane and hitting another vehicle.  3 people were taken to the hospital unconscious.

I think I'll go ahead and stick with the schedule.

Sofa King Tired

I'm trying this new eating plan.  Adam and Monica (yeah, those people again) have done this and feel way much better.  Eliminated foods to see what my body reacts to.  First thing was chicken.  I went 2 weeks without it, then tried eating some again.  I ate some, then gained 3 pounds literally over night, and felt horribly bloated too.  I still was not convinced (stubborn you say?  Nevah!)  Went without it for another week and a half or so, and then ate some, without even really thinking about it.  Jesus rollerskating Christ.  I felt disgusting!  Gained the 3 pounds again.  Bloated.  Almost felt like I had the flu coming on.  Aching and just wrong feeling.  Fine, no more chicken.  I even went to an Indian restaurant with my mom last week and didn't eat my totally fave dish..chicken tikka masala.  You don't realize how much chicken you eat, until you can't eat it.  *sigh*

Next, I tried wheat.  No bread, bagels, cake, pasta, PIZZA, crackers, and on and on and on.  I fucking LOVE bread.  I could eat all bread based foods and be happy.  Chicken?  That was nothing.  I went a week with no wheat products.  I didn't realize I was feeling better until it occurred to me that I hadn't consumed a single energy drink in that week (I was having 1 every afternoon to get through the day).  Weird.  Well, then Thanksgiving weekend happened.  Rolls, stuffing (if you had my mom's stuffing you would understand - I ate twice as much of that as I did anything else that day), donuts, pizza, naan, pancakes.  It. Was. Glorious. 

Monday, it was back at the no wheat. I had gained 4 pounds over that weekend.  I can do this.  By Wednesday, I was ready to sacrifice one of my children for a dinner roll.  I even fixed the family grilled cheese and tomato soup.  TORTURE!  But Adam smart assedly reminded me...3:59:59.  Touche.  I did not eat the bread. 

Today, I feel like hell.  Exhausted and cranky, which apparently is a strong indication that my body does, in fact, hate wheat.  Why couldn't my body hate, say, brussels sprouts?  or american cheese?  You know, stuff that's disgusting?  *sigh*  Clearly, the universe, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and my imaginary friends hate me.  But I shall prevail!!

Note to self:  Do NOT listen to the theme song from Rudy while trying to run easy.  I think drinking soda through my nose would be easier!

Why am I doing this?

My friends Adam and Monica (**names may or may not have been changed to protect the not so innocent**) recently offered me a charity bib for THE Boston Marathon.  Ho. Lee. Shit.  Boston has been on my bucket list since I was probably 16 years old.  I said yes, of course, and even hubby is on board (we'll see how he feels later when I have to skip out for 3 hours on a Sunday).  It wasn't until later that I remembered I was never going to do another marathon ever.  Shit. I have completed 2...I won't say I "ran" 2, because that would be seriously overstating my case.  But I finished them, and I didn't die.  Mission accomplished.

I didn't train for my previous marathons, really.  My longest run for my first was 12 miles.  And I wondered why I didn't walk or shit right for 2 days?  For my second one, Monica thought she'd be cute and bust my ass.  I raced a half, jogged a 15, and walk/jogged an 18.  And peeled 27 minutes off my time...there are 80 year olds who marathon faster than me, so that's really not much of an accomplishment.  But I digress...

So I've never run Boston.  Don't even think I could ever come close to qualifying.  So I'm a poser.  But I'm going to run Boston.  I've already booked my flight.  It. Is. On.  Then my dear friends said that I have to train.  Like, for real train.  Shit.  Ok fine.  Train for a 3:59:59, they said.  I promptly reminded my friends that they are, in fact, crack smokers. But I accepted the challenge.  I have a 5-day a week plan that I think I can (mostly) stick to.  And another friend who has agreed to guilt me into doing my long weekend runs.  I hate her...but I love her.

After the initial "you're going to run 3:59:59", Adam talked to his coach about it.  Apparently, I'm supposed to run my easy days at 10 minute pace.  What. The. Fuck.  Seriously?  I'm comfortable at 8:45!!  But fine.  Whatever.  I'll be Adam's bitch.  I ran 4 miles at 10 minute pace.  It fucking sucks.  I feel like even more of a poser, if that's possible. 

So why am I blogging this?  I had the bright idea during my painfully slow run today, that I would document my little journey.  Maybe I'll look back on it in 30 years.  Maybe my kids will appreciate it someday.  Maybe I can show them and myself what is possible.

Sparty on™