June 25, 2006
week two of four
One hundred miles, almost all of it in singles, as:
Su: 16mi (8:25). supposed to be 18, but Ray had a very sore calf so we stopped a bit early.
M: 10:55mi (9:18)
T: 13.55mi (9:18). wery, wery consistent are we.
W: AM 10.11mi (9:19), PM 8mi (8:41) and ungodly hot, got good and sick afterward, then "helped out" (ran around to mile markers to call splits) at a HS 4-mile race in the park.
R: AM 14mi (9:26) woke up late, tired and still dehydrated from Wed PM run, yuck
F: 12.8mi (9:34) we are starting to get tired now.
Sa: 15mi (8:47), ran hard miles 4, 8, 12, 15 just for variety
Even though I'm really slow, I feel a lot better than I did a few weeks ago after 2 92-mile weeks in a row. My calves are still tight and I spend countless hours squeezing, stretching, and icing them (and whining at my husband to do the same), but all this effort keeps the PF at bay. During the brisk miles yesterday and today, I was happy that just a bit of push could get me into the 7s, even low 7s. That's not exactly blazin' fast, but seeing as I'd given up all hope of cracking 9-minute miles anymore, I 'm just delighted. Even though I'm really slow, I feel a lot better than I did a few weeks ago after 2 92-mile weeks in a row. I just might be getting more used to this volume in this weather. This coming week I have something almost like a workout, where I have to run 2x1.5mi at 6:50 pace oh dear god. I am not entirely sure I can manage even that.
some things I really want to do:
- run two more weeks around 100, then cut back and start adding workouts again
- start massage therapy school next summer (yup, I'm still a misanthrope, so don't ask me why I want to do this. I just do.)
- visit New Zealand; meet and curtsy before Chris Knox, Alec Bathgate, and Pete Pfitzinger
- eat some more of the wonderful bread pudding I made yesterday.
June 17, 2006
Since last week was a cutback (68 miles) I also cut back on blogging, since there was nothing much to write about. This week there still isn't much to write about, but there were some more miles, as
Su: 20.18mi (8:25) with Ray and Aaron
M: 10mi (9:41) in tropical-storm downpour
T: 11.35mi (9:21). Massage in the evening, did lots of good.
W: AM 10.3mi (8:58), PM 6.02mi (8:08) with Ray and Aaron and 10,000 gnats. The unlucky ones were ingested or inhaled. The lucky ones merely stuck to us until our sweat dried, then flew away to bother other people. I absent-mindedly laid my GPS down on Ray's truck and forgot about it until he'd driven off. A park ranger found it but would not accept the money or Clif Bar I offered him.
R: 7.4mi incl 10 x 100m strides. By now I have trashed all the good things the massage did for me.
F: AM 13.51mi (9:17), PM 5 sloggy miles on the treadmill, forgot to remember the pace but I could not wait to get out of there, that's how super-non-great it was.
Sa: 13mi (9:18)
total: 96.8 miles
I'm still damn slow, but I'm not going to worry about that now, really I'm not. Although I upped the miles this week, fatigue wasn't a problem. The main trouble is (stll) my feet. I've found that massaging my calves really helps, but even doing that every waking hour (and I do) hasn't cured the problem completely. It sucks running on sore feet.
Sometimes a trip to the grocery store is all I can manage for an entire day. Our neighborhood supermarket has been around since the 30s, when fewer people lived here and shopped there, so it's not a supersized supermarket, more like the bigger-than-a-deli, smaller-than-a-walmart places I used to shop at in Brooklyn. Narrow aisles, small selection, constantly running out of stuff so the narrow aisles are constantly blocked by people constantly restocking the shelves. And the people. Lots of people in this little store. Whole families (hey! one of my best friends is in a family!) trailing behind one person with a shopping cart, and someone screaming on the cell (hey! my mom has a cell phone, whassa matter with that) to the one family member who didn't go to the store. Big, big, wide people (hey! one of my best friends is a "person of poundage") going i n c r e d i b l y slowly, eating stuff as they go. Today, especially, I was amazed at the behemoths there; everyone was big. Newborn babies (hey! one of my best friends just had a newborn baby) screaming in their whatever-you-call-it carseat (hey! it's called an "infant seat") thing they put in grocery carts. Ring-toed (toe-ringed?) twentysomethings redolent of patchouli buying sixes of Guinness or fours of Boddingtons. The guys act like dicks (hey! one of my best friend has one) and the girls pay for the groceries anyway. Greyhaired mamas (hey!) fullsteaming ahead with their carts as though they wore blinders; maybe they didn't want to see me anymore than I wanted to see them. After 20 minutes I was exhausted with the entire human race, and ready to let fly with a lot of the nasty and snarky comments filling my head. I used to listen to Yo La Tengo a lot and sometimes wondered how Ira Kaplan could keep up the bitching and muttering song after song after song. I could mutter my way through a few songs right now.
June 3, 2006
almost lost, almost
For the past couple of years I've said I wanted to train right up to the point of breaking. It sounded very romantic and brave, and I was sure there was some goodness lurking behind it. This week is the closest I've come to that
over-the-side-of-the-cliff area of training; it's neither romantic nor brave, and instead of trusting that it will bring some wonderful improvements, I just wonder if I've dug myself into some hole I can't climb out of.
Over the past several weeks my solo easy-run pace has slipped to where I'm mostly dragging myself along on always-sore feet and legs. I'm tired all the time, and on weekends I'm good for hours-long naps each day. Somehow I can muster a more normal pace when I run with company, but the lead in my legs
never, ever goes away.
I had planned to run 98 miles this week - the 5th week of increased mileage but a mere 6 miles more than last week. But I was feeling so ragged-out by midweek that Mike suggested I ditch Friday's double; I agreed with nary a peep. Still, Thursday night I got into bed and realized that everything hurt even though I wasn't doing anything but laying in bed, and I also realized that I really, really, really didn't want to get up the next morning and run.
But I did, and then I slogged through 13 this morning, and so my week ends with 92 miles, and I don't think it's gotten me anything but skinnier and more tired. And it's only 92 miles that I'm whining and crying about! I
read about the 120+ Duncan Larkin runs (and gains strength from) week after week, and I wonder what the hell I'm doing, if I have wandered somewhere I have no business going. Last fall there was this guy on a newsgroup who suggested that my race times didn't quite reflect my training volume. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe he's right and I have ventured above my station.
Next week will be a cutback, 72 miles. My massage therapist will have returned from her 3-week vacation, yay, and I will haul my knotted lumps of shin and calf to her on Tuesday evening. I hope the week will let me recover
enough to tackle the 4 100+ weeks after that. But more than that, I hope that something good will come of this, and I hope it happens before my body and my patience give out.