Spooky Time of Year

(When I set out to write my post for this week, I had grand plans of writing about my experience registering for Boston. Other ideas included talking about volunteering at a marathon last weekend and cherishing the connection with other runners.  As life goes, however, my run on Wednesday night changed my plans for this week’s entry. )

Typically bucolic Burlington has been disrupted by a violent event in the North End, where a woman was found dead in her home.  Details continue to emerge, but the event unsettled me. The extent to which was not clear until my run on Wednesday night.  

I was running along the bike path when a bike slowed behind me.  Normally, I wouldn’t have paid any mind.  On Wednesday, however, I spun around, spooked. It was a commuter, slowing to turn off the bike path onto his street.  He apologized and was clearly surprised to have upset me. I spent the rest of the run on edge, jumping at the rustling of leaves and mile markers.  As it got too dark to see, I needed my headlamp, plunging myself into the isolation of a single beam of light.  By the last two miles, I was whistling “Camptown Races” as loudly as I could, as though that would dissuade any attackers.  

On my nth rendition of the song, I got mad.  I’ve been running alone for fifteen years in places much more dangerous than Burlington.  I survived four years in Albany and ran through post-Katrina Biloxi.  Now, in my safe little haven, I’ve been rudely reminded of my vulnerability as a woman runner.  As someone constantly competing with the boys, it pisses me off that while they run on, I’m risking ankle sprains from jumping off a path when a branch brushes my arm.

In a few weeks, the salience of this will fade and I’ll be back to being a creature of the night, running before the rest of the world rouses. Until then, I’m begging friends to run with me (fruitless), considering a new dog (crazy) and re-scheduling my life to allow me to run in the daylight (impractical).

The Diva's Half Marathon

Despite a rocky start (sitting in traffic for over an hour, missing the race start because they didn't hold the race for the 2000 people in traffic etc), my girls and I had a fabulous time in the Diva's half marathon.  For Lindsey, it was her first (and allegedly only) half marathon.  For me, it was a completely different perspective on a race.  A normal race morning for me finds me a bundle of nerves, reviewing strategy until the gun goes off.  When the gun went off last Sunday, we were facing the wrong direction and not even in the corral.  While I'll admit to being perturbed, it waned when I realized that my start (nor my middle, nor my finish) didn't matter.  We were here to run with Lindsey and enjoy the ride.

Enjoy it we did.  I have never been part of the pack.  Even in Las Vegas, the pack thinned quickly and I spent miles 10 through 26 essentially alone. Last weekend, however, we were surrounded.  We chatted up other groups, inevitably curious about our costumes, danced when there was music around and stopped to take pictures mid-race.  I took a bathroom break, walked through water stops and hurdled the occasional pylon.  I had a blast. The picture below is from the Mile 12 tiara and boa stop.  As you can tell, I'm taking things very seriously. (The song was Vogue.)

So what do I take away from the experience?  Anyone who has been around me on race day knows that I am legitimately no fun.  If I talk at all, it's harsh and I am so nervous I often vomit. Delightful, I know. Did this race change all of that?  Of course not.  What it did remind me is that running should be fun and that there are always other races.  It also helped me realize that I want to be racing again and that I have a lot of work to do this fall. 

Other lessons?  Don't run with a boa.  They smell terrible and are hard to breathe through.

Absence makes the heart grow...

Fonder?  Nah, I've just been too busy to post.  Luckily, a lot of that busy comes from getting back into running.  I am fresh off my first 30 mile week, including 30 miles in two days last weekend.  Yes, folks, I'm almost like a real live runner again.  I successfully pulled off 15 on Saturday, followed by a half marathon on Sunday where I paced a dear friend through her very first half marathon. Granted, both of those runs were incredibly slow, but I'm grateful to have survived with no symptoms and to be running this week without any residual pain.

So how did I get here?  As those around me can attest, I have been fastidious about routine and willing to try almost any rumored way to speed healing, encourage the regeneration of nerves and reduce scar tissue.  This has translated into a number of new things:

First, I am actually taking my vitamins every day, which include a multivitamin, Vitamin D (I'm in the North, we are low on sunshine) and a Fish Oil.  All of this comes from my mom, who also doubles as my RD.  She reads a lot more of the nutritional research than I do, and while I can't provide support beyond the anecdotal, I'm reticent to change the routine because it isn't hurting me and I know, like many of us, I don't always eat as well as I should. 

Second, I warm up and cool down.  No longer can I run from my front door.  Now, I warm up on a foam roller, then walk for a few minutes, then transition to a run.  After my run, I stretch carefully and foam roll again.  This adds a good 20 minutes to every run, but I'd do 40 if it meant running comfortably and avoiding additional surgeries.

Third, I am consistently working on flexibility.  Much like taking my vitamins, I know I should, but that doesn't mean I want to.  If I have an extra hour in my day, I am just not someone who would opt for yoga.  I'd watch TV, go for a run, organize my bathroom, floss my teeth.  Anything but yoga.  I have to admit, though, that a regular practice has allowed me to be better aware of where my left foot is in space and for that, I'll om with the best of them.

It's hard to know whether these things are making a difference or if I'm just finally reaching the end of this road to recovery.  Since none of them are likely to have a negative effect, I'll keep doing them (probably until I run out of time or forget all the lessons I've learned). 

The next challenge is to not succumb to "too much, too soon."  With registration for the Boston Marathon fast approaching, I find myself eager to start following a stringent plan.  I know, however, that I still have a lot of base building to do and I fear that a strict plan will be discouraging.  For the remainder of 2010, I am going to keep working towards a normal base for me, which is somewhere between 50 and 60 miles per week.  This will come from a longer weekend runs and a handful of midweek runs.  In a month or so, I'll begin to add tempo work back in.  By January 2011, I should be ready to gear up for a true training cycle.

Stay tuned for a picture or two from the half marathon on Sunday.  The event itself was poorly executed, but we had a ton of fun and it gave me a whole different perspective on running, which I will share along with those pictures.