slow runners

Moose Mountain Marathon Training: Week 1

Obviously this is a continuation of the training I’ve been doing all summer, rather than a 6 week marathon training program. (MMM is Sept 10th.) I took a couple weeks “off” from training, averaging about 16 miles/week, so this past week of training was my return to training-level mileage.

Monday: 6 mi, road, 135 bpm
Tuesday: 6.4 mi, road/trail (including 6x Chester Bowl ski hill), 152 bpm
Wednesday: rest (30 min of yoga)
Thursday: 8.5 mi, road, 152 bpm
Friday: rest (travel)
Saturday: 5.6 mi, road, 144 bpm
Sunday: 5.1 mi, road, 142 bpm
Total: 31.8 mi

This is almost double the mileage I’ve done the past 2 weeks, but I didn’t feel like it was a huge, exhausting increase. I did do mostly road running, mostly due to time or travel constraints.

My focus for this mini training cycle is my “lazy” running. I have complained about this before, but I have this terrible tendency to sit back when I’m running. I’m not an expert in running form and I don’t really know how I “look” when I’m running, but I do know how it feels. When I’m running “lazy,” I’m leading with my hips, and my shoulders are back. When I’m not running “lazy,” my shoulders and upper body are more forward. I suspect that I’m also running a slightly higher cadence when I’m running in a more engaged way, but I haven’t paid much attention to cadence so I can’t say. The more engaged running style is much more efficient; I can run faster paces while maintaining the same heart rate, and I can run faster overall. I don’t think I can go much faster in my relaxed/lazy posture, and so I need to train myself to stop running in that posture. Easier said than done. No more mindless running for awhile.

Tuesday’s hill workout was tough, but necessary. Chester Bowl is fairly steep, and my legs start to burn before I’m even halfway up. I need to learn to avoid going there on Tuesdays, though; I forgot about the concert series. It’s not on the hill, so it’s not like I was running through the audience, but there were still more people milling around the bottom than I’d like, and there was a young couple lying literally right next to the only dirt path up the hill. They didn’t move for my first few reps up the hill, which was really awkward. I didn’t feel like moving off the little path, since the grass had not been cut recently and I didn’t want to add that extra challenge. I ran about 4 more miles after I complete my hill repeats, and my legs recovered nicely, so I think the workouts are really beneficial.

Wednesday I could/should have run, since my haircut was… canceled, at the last minute, kind of. Rather, I drove up to the salon and it was no longer a salon, but a travel agency. I did not get the info that the salon had moved/closed when I made the appointment 3 weeks ago, which seemed like maybe some important information to have. I did about 30 minutes of yoga, although I really, really sucked at it. I struggled with all the poses and my flexibility in certain positions was pathetic. I did 5×10 pushups after. That was my one organized strength workout for the week, oops.

I didn’t do a long run this weekend due to travel. My family got together at the cabin my dad rented for the summer, and I did not want to take the time for a long run. It was much more important to spend time with people, especially my nephew, who lives in Grand Forks, and my grandparents, who will be returning to Florida permanently, and no longer coming up to Duluth in the summers. I didn’t want to spend 2-3 hours (or more) alone doing some boring long run (the scenery is nice on the lake, but the only running options are county roads with no shade, or smaller roads with lots of bugs) when I had limited time with everyone. I also slept in a tent Friday and Saturday night and didn’t get good rest, so a shorter run was less taxing. I don’t know if kneeboarding and tubing officially count as strength training, but I’ll count both. It took a lot of strength to hang on for dear life when centripetal force threatened to fling me out of the tube (actually a raft) during a particularly tight, fast turn. I did a small amount of lake swimming as cross training, too!

This upcoming week, I’ll be getting serious about running again, and getting my mileage back up in the 40s. My plan is to start running earlier in the day, like when I get home from work, not an hour and a half later, after lolly-gagging about. This will give me time to do strength workouts after running, and also ensure I don’t miss prime-time Olympic coverage, which is a HIGH priority.

Race Report: Voyageur 50 (Volunteering)

Volunteering at an aid station is a surefire cure for the running blues.

The Curnow Trail Marathon only set me back $10, as I made a commitment to volunteering for the Voyageur. So while DNS-ing the race had a significant impact on my dignity and self-esteem, the financial impact was minimal.

The Voyageur 50 is an out-and back race which follows essentially the same trail as the Curnow Marathon. It starts and ends in Carlton, instead of starting at the Zoo and ending in Carlton. This means some aid stations end up being open for quite awhile. I was at the Forbay Lake aid station, which was at mile 5.8/44.2, so it was a long day to staff. I only worked the afternoon portion, arriving around 11:45, about 5 minutes before the lead runner arrived. The aid station captain and 3 of the other women already there when I arrived had been there since 6 a.m., and stayed until 4 or later, so it was a really long day! They did have a long lull after the final runners went through and got in a run. Two other people arrived midway through my shift, and four of us closed down the aid station, along with one of the ham radio operators.

The first thing I have to do is compliment the race staff and our aid station captain for being on top of things. We were prepared for runners’ needs (within reason) and didn’t run out of anything except ginger ale and maybe watermelon at the very end. When we ran low on ice and watermelon, the race staff was there to refill us well in advance of truly running out, since the AS captain had thought to call ahead with plenty of time. We had more than enough water and sports drink, and runners were always able to grab what they needed off the table. The only things they really had to wait for were ice (which we scooped from coolers) and bottle/hydration pack refills.

My job was to mark down the numbers of runners as they came through. At first, I shared this job with another woman, who I finally realized looked familiar because I had seen her at Superior; she was one of the top women finishers (though I don’t believe a podium finisher). I felt kinda dumb because I was talking about what it’s like to be slow to someone who doesn’t know anything about being slow! For the most part, it wasn’t too hard to get all the numbers down, although sometimes we couldn’t read the numbers til the runners were practically on top of us. We didn’t have a single drop at our aid station, and only 3 runners who were cut by the grim reaper after the cutoff, so we didn’t have to call in many numbers.

Beyond collecting numbers, I helped out filling water bottles, replenishing drink cups, scooping ice into hats, and anything else that was needed. I sprayed one guy down with sunscreen I’d brought for myself; he was shirtless and sweaty and trying to apply sunscreen lotion to his back, but it was fruitless. I gave him a few spritzes and he was on his way. Our group talked to everyone, whether it was just to be friendly, to try to assess their condition, or to offer some encouragement to someone struggling. We reassured people they hardly had any distance left, and it was easy — at least until the next aid station. We answered their questions with a smile, and then answered the same question again when they forgot they’d even asked it. “2.4 miles to the next aid station, then 3.4 to the finish. 5.8 total.” I said that probably 500 times, if you consider that there were over 300 runners and I repeated it to many people.

No one came into the aid station looking like a zombie, or vomiting profusely, or covered in blood. Very few people even looked like they needed an extra eye on them while they ate or drank. It seemed anyone who was struggling or sick or injured badly had already been weeded out by the tough course, and anyone who reached us before the cutoff was destined to finish. I was pretty grateful no one barfed on or near me, as I always am. The AS captain’s son was running the race, and her husband and other son, who were crewing for him, arrived in the late afternoon to hang out, help with runners, and wait for their runner to show up. He had a bit of a rough day, but since his family was running the aid station, he didn’t get much pity. The other runners coming through with him got a secondhand dose of parental tough love, which they thought was funny.

The final hour or so before the cutoff, the aid station got rather quiet. We’d been bustling in the mid-afternoon, with crews showing up hoping to catch their family or friend and offer encouragement or help them get what they needed. (I was really grateful when a large group of runners came through and a few of them had crew; it allowed us to serve the crew-less runners more quickly.) Watching them was interesting. Some were anxious. Some barely seemed bothered (or were too busy entertaining kids to be anxious). Some were tired, others had already completed the race or had dropped and were coming to crew others. (One left his race number on and I nearly wrote it down multiple times before finally exercising my authority and making him take it off.) Some barely made it in time for their runners or even missed them, others camped out well in advance of their runner’s arrival. Some crews were efficient, with loads of extra supplies, receiving orders from their runners. Others were there simply to give a hug and a kiss and support. Some brought very cute dogs, others brought very cute kids.

In the final hour, we had several large groups of runners burst through together, and then long lulls. We watched the time tick away, hoping for more runners to make it. The race had started late, so the cutoff had been extended about 5 minutes. We got them through quickly, shouting encouragement. I told one woman who looked a little desperate that I had no doubt she would finish. I don’t know if that helped much, but I think she finished. (It’s Wednesday and the results have not been published yet.) The final guy through was told by the race official that he had to keep going, couldn’t stop for aid. And then the next guy, a few minutes later, was cut.

I really felt for the three men who sat with us at the aid station after we’d closed, knowing they were so close to the finish line, not looking particularly worse for the wear, but unable to continue. I spent quite awhile talking with one of them. He told me about his coach (Michael Borst, the winner of the race!), and how he’d learned so much and had finished the Zumbro 50 thanks to his advice and expertise. I really felt badly, and I told him “It takes a lot of courage to run a race when you’re not sure you’ll make the cut-offs. It’s one thing to be fast and have a bad race, but still come in well before the cut-offs. It’s another thing to know that even a good race might get you cut.” Or something to that effect. I hope it helped a little. It seemed to, at least for a moment. But I also know it was pretty embarrassing and dejecting for those 3 guys sitting there, waiting to figure out rides, and then finally piling into a race official’s car to get a ride back to the finish. Especially when the finish was only 5.8 miles away.

It took awhile for the sweeps to come; so long, in fact, that I jogged out on the trail with one of the other volunteers to look for them. I’m not sure how far we went out, maybe half a mile, and then turned around without finding them. If we’d just gone a little farther, we’d have found them, as they arrived a few minutes after we returned. They took some food and water and then left, and we finished the final few tasks involved in breaking down the aid station. I’m not a huge fan of that part of an event (who is?), but with fun people to work with, it wasn’t terrible.

I really enjoyed working at the aid station, although I still think my favorite volunteer experience was working the finish line at Superior last fall. I’m glad I did it; not only did it give me a chance to give back to the trail running community and to give the kind of service to other runners that I have received at numerous aid stations, it also re-motivated me to train for the Moose Mountain Marathon. I missed running and missed racing, although from the tales of the Curnow Marathon I heard from the women at the aid station, I felt a little more justified in skipping the race. I was not prepared to climb up slick, muddy hills after being awake for 30 hours. I’m a little more at peace with my decision.

Thanks, Voyageur runners and volunteers, for inspiring me and re-energizing me for the next 6 weeks of training. I’m happy to be back on the trails.

Heated Discussion

I’m really trying to get my running mojo back, and had an OK start to the week (kinda crummy Monday run, rest Tuesday, bada$$ hill workout Wednesday), but all that progress has sort of ground to a halt due to the weather.

Wednesday in the wee small hours of the morning, there was a fairly monstrous thunderstorm in Duluth that knocked out our power. Annoying, yes. But much more annoying when the next two days reach high temperatures of over 90F. It’s highly unlikely we’ll be getting power back any time soon, but in the meantime the weather is sapping my will to do anything. I didn’t run yesterday, and I’m still on the fence about today. I had originally planned on running yesterday, but after driving around trying to find a place that was open so I could get a cold drink and buy some ice to put in the fridge, my energy was pretty well sapped. There were a lot of downed power lines, fallen trees, and non-functioning stoplights and streetlights so it also wouldn’t have been a very safe decision to run.

I’m trying to decide if it’s a good idea to take this opportunity to get some prolonged rest. My choices for today are 1. don’t run or 2. run later in the evening (with a headlamp and vest). I’ve been waffling on what to do. I slept poorly, but felt pretty decent most of today – until I went to lunch and had to go out in the heat. Now I feel like donkey crap. I’m sure once I get home and can relax a bit, I’ll feel better again, and then I’ll make a “game-time” decision, as it were. If I do take today off, I think I’ll call it a week and start fresh on Monday. Let’s all hope I’m not still out of power by then (outlook not so good).

Eugene Curnow Trail Marathon Training: Week 8

Technically I guess this is now Moose Mountain Marathon training.

Monday: 5 mi, treadmill, 145 bpm
Tuesday: rest
Wednesday: 5.3 mi, paved trail (Lakewalk starting @ East HS), 137 bpm
Thursday: 4.3 mi, paved trail (Lakewalk starting @ Brighton Beach), 134 bpm
Friday: rest
Saturday: 10 mi, trail (SHT starting at Lismore Rd), no HRM
Sunday: 13.1 mi, paved trail (Munger Trail starting at Munger Inn), 146 bpm
Total: 37.9 mi

Not much to say. Most of the week consisted of maintenance runs, assuming I’d be racing on Saturday. Then I ran two rather punishing runs over the weekend in self-flagellation.

I’ll just wallow in self pity a little bit longer and then maybe start enjoying running again.

Sunk Costs

At 3:38 this morning, half an hour or so before my alarm, I got out of bed and sent a defeated email to the race director, scratching myself from the race. I’d been tossing and turning and unable to sleep, and I couldn’t start my first marathon after being up for 24 hours.

So, I’m not a marathoner. Just embarrassed. It was a beautiful day, I had good (not great, but good) training, and I was finally coming to accept that I could actually complete the race. Of all the things to go wrong, all the reasons I might not get to the finish line, I didn’t think it would be something that would prevent me from getting to the starting line.

And people run races sleep-deprived all the time. I know I shouldn’t compare myself to others, but this is different. This isn’t about speed or physical ability, things that are not completely within my control. Mental toughness is completely within my control, and I wimped out. People running Hardrock right now have had less sleep than I would have by the time the race ended.

I made a good decision that I can’t seem to live with. I do think it was the right decision for me: I’ve never run a marathon before, I would have had to drive myself to the race already sleep-deprived, and I wasn’t running with a crew, so if I was unable to continue, I wouldn’t have had a way to get home and would have had to beg for a ride to the finish, or sit at an aid station until my husband finally woke up (he sleeps late on the weekends due to an unusual shift schedule) and could come get me. Not ideal.

I’m still mad at myself. Mostly for not being able to even muster 3 lousy hours of sleep. I’ve run on little sleep before, like at Zumbro. But never on no sleep. And maybe I did really get some sleep and just didn’t realize it, but I doubt it. My fitness tracker shows me restless more than once an hour, and doesn’t show my heart rate dipping down to the level it normally is while I’m sleeping until after I’d sent my email and gone back to bed. And even then, it took me awhile to fall asleep and I still woke up around 9. Race anxiety got the best of me, it seems.

I’m not sure what I could have done differently. I thought about a lot of different things. Take a sleep aid? I went to bed at my normal time, I’m tired at that time almost every night. I didn’t sleep in on Friday, either, probably only got 5-6 total hours of sleep Thursday night (another factor in my decision not to run). I wouldn’t have known I needed a sleep aid until it was too late. They don’t always work, either, they tend to either backfire, or make me sleepy long after they wear off. Plus I always fear when I take them, I’ll sleep through my alarm. Eat something different or eat earlier? I always eat late and had no stomach issues last night. Not drink a pop before bed? Again, I drink a pop with dinner most nights (it’s my one pop of the day and IDGAF if I shouldn’t have it), and I don’t have trouble sleeping. Go to bed earlier? I wasn’t tired earlier, that would have been pointless. Run a few miles to tire me out a little more? Maybe. I considered that and then realized I still had to go check out where I was going to park in the morning, so I didn’t have time to run a couple miles.

The only thing I think I could have done differently was change the logistics of my plan. I worried about parking more than anything else. I was afraid there wouldn’t be a spot to park (it’s pretty limited), but I didn’t want to take the bus from Carlton at 4:45; I’d have to have gotten up earlier and driven in the dark to the finish line. I guess I should have just done that, but I wanted to have my car with me and have a little more freedom. I’m not sure that would have helped, but I did worry about it. So if I do this next year: I’m taking the bus.

I need to turn this setback into something positive. Besides saving money by canceling my post-race massage, I mean.

I still have the Moose Mountain Marathon to complete, and I have work to do. Weight to lose. Diet to improve. Speed to increase. Core muscles to strengthen. All the things I put by the wayside as I rushed to train for this marathon, and started getting a little mentally checked out. I was going through the motions of getting the miles in, but I wasn’t doing much else. So here’s my chance to make it right, and to toe the line in Schroder on September 10th with confidence and strength.

Eugene Curnow Trail Marathon Goals

24 hours from now, I’ll be departing at the Lake Superior Zoo, hopefully at a decent pace and hopefully not needing to pee already.

A couple weeks ago, I was wearing headphones on a run, one of the rare times I do, and this song came on and it is now my mantra for the race.

I will not go down under the ground
“Cause somebody tells me that death’s comin’ ’round
An’ I will not carry myself down to die
When I go to my grave my head will be high,
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.

I’m not going to give up. I’m going to battle through anything this race throws at me, whether it’s heat or rain or mud or who knows? I’m prepared, or as prepared as I can be. I’m going to be a marathoner by tomorrow afternoon.

Goals:
A Standard: 8:30:00
B Standard: 9:00:00
C Standard: 9:59:59

I don’t usually have a back-up back-up before the race begins, but there are so many unknowns that I figured I’d better have more options for success. I made a “laminated” (covered in clear tape) chart noting what time I’d need to arrive at each aid station in order to be on pace for each of these goals. This will eliminate any need to compensate for GPS error, and will allow me to know my situation even if my GPS watch dies.

All of these goal times are at paces slower than even my Superior 25K race, which was somewhat of a disaster. UltraSignup suggests I should target a finish time of 8:53:16, which is very precise. I’d take that, for sure.

I’ve still got a laundry list of things left to do, although the list is long because I have gotten very detailed. I have things like “fill hydration pack” on the list. I also have writing this post on my list. Check. So, I don’t have a lot of big stuff to do, just a billion little things that will take a few seconds apiece. I bought a lot of gels and put my precious vanilla Coke in the fridge. I’m ready.

The usual non-pace-related goals apply: I don’t want to puke, become incontinent, pass out, or otherwise have a medical emergency. I don’t want to get struck by lightning in the event of a storm. I don’t want to get poison ivy when I have to step off the trail to pee. I don’t want to get swept or pulled off the course for weather-related issues. (I don’t know if this race actually sweeps, they give no cut-off times.) I need get in a couple warm up miles, especially since I’ve been sluggish the past couple days. I will start at the back of the pack as I always do, and run my own race.

Let me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood
Let me smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood
Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves
Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.

Eugene Curnow Trail Marathon Training: Week 7

I’m deep in the throes of race anxiety at the moment.

Monday: 5.2 mi, road, 132 bpm
Tuesday: rest
Wednesday: 5.5 mi, trail (Hartley hodgepodge), 146 bpm
Thursday: rest
Friday: 7 mi, treadmill (tempo run), 145 bpm
Saturday: 9 mi, trail (SHT, Magney Snively trailhead to Becks Road & back), 147 bpm
Sunday: 4.8 mi, trail (Bagley, though I think the GPS is off/too high on mileage), 142 bpm
Total: 31.6 mi

I actually didn’t intend to cut down the mileage quite so far. I thought I’d do about 35 miles, but 3-4 of my runs last week were shorter than I’d intended. It doesn’t really matter. My run on Saturday was good, I was able to run under 20 min/mile over some fairly tough terrain, also including a stop to take a selfie on top of Ely’s Peak. Here is a huge photo of me.

The rest of the week was basically boring.

Like I said, I am extremely anxious about Saturday’s race. It doesn’t look like it will be too hot, so that is good. Now my 2 biggest concerns are 1. mud/trail conditions and 2. getting pulled off the course due to a storm. I guess I just need to be faster and finish before any potential thunderstorms develop. Hahahahahahahahaha. It rained a lot on Monday so the trail conditions and water crossings could be… interesting.

My biggest irrational concern is getting lost, which I’ve addressed. Everything else should be ok. I know I can finish. I know I’m probably going to perform better than I am expecting, but I am keeping my expectations low and manageable. I have another marathon 8 weeks after this one, so I can’t go buck wild.

There’s not much left for me to do, besides avoid injury, get adequate sleep, and complete a page-long, evolving to-do list. “3 more sleeps” until the race, as they say. Never mind that my resting heart rate is on the way up, my feet are sorta grossly calloused, and I am over-analyzing and second-guessing just about every decision I’ve made regarding this race. Especially signing up. WTF was I thinking?

It’ll be fun. Or a learning experience. Or both.