You Can't Stop Me

Boy, tapering gives you time.

Time to pause and think about things.  About your training, about the color of the walls in your kitchen (really need to redo those....shall I run out and do all the projects now that I have time?), about life. It's such a dangerous thing.

This year, I decided to make some big changes in my life.  With that, I've been looking back at the first 3 months of the year with some wonder, some amazement, some regret, and some plain disbelief.  As most people do, I started off the year with some goals.  Really, one goal.

To do big, scary things.

Many people would posit that big scary things is a terrible goal to have.  Its ambiguous.  Hard to pin down.  What the frig does it even mean, Rae?

I'll explain.

The past few years have been pretty crazy for me.  Even in the best world, as a person at a pivotal age (I just made that up - does it sound good?) trying to figure out life through some pretty big milestones - becoming a mom (twice), a pretty big career transition, a total game changer with Greg's career, paying off the house, and some insane by the "average bystander" athletic goals - first ultra marathon - followed by two more, breaking 4 hours in the marathon, and doing an Ironman with two young kids - add in another dozen marathons, countless triathlons and shorter road races.....my life in the last 6 years has been nuts.

There have been great achievements.  I have some damned amazing kids.  A solid career path.  A wonderful husband that is a great life partner.  And some pretty sweet achievements as a runner and triathlete that, when I take stock of, I'm pretty damned proud of (57 mile PR in 12 hour road race, a 3rd Ironman finish, and a new marathon PR of 3:53).

But why settle? It's not in my nature.  And the past two years (2017 and 2018) laid down a few massive challenges where I failed epicly simply because I got too comfortable. A set back at work because I buried my head in the sand and went with the flow.  A fail at home because I rested on my laurels and didn't speak up. And Ironman Lake Placid 2018 was a huge cluster fuck because I let the fear of the bike go to my head.

As I took stock at the end of the year in 2018, I knew that I needed to stop complaining and start doing.  To stop being a passive bystander to  the circumstances in my life that I disliked, and to step up and do the things to make them change.

The big, scary things.

I started off with swimming and running.  Because even though I have not been a lifelong athlete, over the past ten years of endurance training, running (and biking and swimming) have almost become a microcosm for my entire life - it seems that the truths that happen during my workouts seem to mimic my life on a smaller scale with frightening regularity.

Swimming came naturally and easily.  I've blogged before about the serendipitous meeting at the Y with one of my now training buddies that turned around the way I look at swimming - and 6 months later this new way of thinking and training has shaved 4-5 minutes off my mile swim time.  All it took was the humbleness to accept that my way of thinking might not be the best and to open myself up to someone that perhaps might know better.  Out of it I have a better swim skill, and just as importantly, a whole new cast of friends to train with and race with in 2019.

Running has been another huge area of doing the big scary things in 2019.  I've blogged quite a bit about the IRB runs, the new PRs on training runs set, and the fabulousness of getting outside my element to train and race with those I never would have before.  I've mastered the fast race simulated training runs with the Rabbit and the Escort.  I've done tempo and long runs with the Pace Man.  And I've even learned how to do recovery runs from the King of Slow.  (Seriously, does anyone go by their real name anymore?  No?  Well thank goodness.  Let's continue to keep it interesting, folks).

Aside from multi sport (I swear I do have a life) I've applied this logic to two more places - work and home.  At work I've started stepping up and taking on more - of not being afraid to speak up for what I believe in, to make a leap that possibly might not end well, and to step back and consider ideas I might have written off.

The same applies at home.  We have a pretty good family dynamic, but there are ways in both my marriage and parenting skills needed some reflection.  Through mutual discussion and support, Greg and I have really looked at what we do well, at what is missing, and have had some serious heart to hearts about how we want to be as people, both together and as individuals.

So, whats the final verdict, Rae?

There have been some snags, as there always will be.  When you attempt to turn the way you view your role in life on its head, there always will be.  Runs where I have completely bonked and hit the wall because I refused to acknowledge a defined limit.  Swims where I have hit failure mid set and did the doggy paddle of shame to the wall.  Humbling apologies to my funder for screwing up.  And a few tense situations where I have had to let my guard down and not be afraid to have a real discussion or admit failure or misjudgment.

There also have been beautiful butterfly moments of emergence from a self constructed cocoon.

This past week, I've felt pretty vulnerable in a few situations that I normally would not have been.  Affected by words or actions that normally wouldn't affect me.  Allowing other people to set the bar for how I feel about life and myself.  It hasn't been pretty.

I can blame it on the taper, lack of sleep, this shitty weather, or do the right thing.  And accept that I am not a product of life circumstances, but how I handle them.  And how I feel about myself is really up to me, and no one else.  It's about surrounding myself with people that lift me up as much as possible, and not allowing those that don't to get to me.

And that this life is about taking the bull by the horns and going confidently in the direction of my dreams.  And pursuing them with all I have.


And, as it usually does, that starts out with that running thing.....which is in 4 days.  And 26.2 miles.  I'm not afraid to chase those dreams.  And even if I fail trying, I'm excited to throw my whole self at it and see what I can actually do.  As I prep for the race, I'm pulling together my epic 26.2 play list, which includes a new song that seems to be the best summation of how I feel about life right now
 - Andy Mineo's "You Can't Stop Me" - "I got two choices when I do this - make moves or make excuses".


Big, scary goals.  Watch out.  I'm coming for you.

Coffee Milk Week 15: X Gonna Give to Ya

First we gonna rock, then we gonna roll, then we let it....well, taper.  This was the first week of taper and it's lived up to its terrible hype.  For everyone out there that enjoys the taper, my hats off to you.  I can excel at the whole first 14 weeks of a plan only to fall to complete pieces in the last two.

Nonetheless, if we wanna go fast, we taper.  This weeks installment of terrible workouts included a long run of ten miles, a tempo 6 miler with 4 miles at sub 8 pace, and a speed work "strength" session of 4 x 1.5 mile repeats, which is the only workout I deviated in and turned into a 6 miler at 7:40 pace.

The tempo workout (1 mile warm up, 4 miles at avg 7:45 pace and a 1 mile cool down), felt terrible.  My lungs hurt, my legs were stiff, and I basically had no clue how I could maintain the pace for any  length of time.

The long run, which I wisely opted to do alone and on the morning after about 2 hours sleep, felt equally terrible at an 8:30 pace.  Suffice to say the thought of holding a faster pace than this for 26.2 miles feels HIGHLY unreasonable.

My recovery runs, held at close to a 9 minute mile, felt easy leg wise and terrible breathing wise.

Basically, I'm dying.  I have no energy, no legs, and no discernible shot at PRing this marathon, let alone even thinking magical Boston dreams.

Good job taper, you're doing it right!  After every run, I would get home and get asked the same question - "How did your run go?".  Same answer.  TERRIBLE.  Same response.  THAT'S AWESOME!

Runners.  Thank god we understand each other.

The only saving grace in terms of run-spo came, ironically, from work.  I was asked to represent my agency at a Lifespan luncheon where the keynote was Kathrine Switzer, who, if you are a non runner, is an iconic figure in the female running community - in 1967, she became the first woman to ever complete registered in a marathon - ironically, at Boston.

Her story and speech were incredible, and despite the "taper blues", made me want to jump in my car, drive to Rhode Island, and run 26.2 immediately.  While she never set out to "break barriers", her feisty spirit of hitting adversary head on had me sitting in the audience, tears streaming down my face.  She spoke of being issued challenges, of being given goals in the guise of people thinking you cannot do something and proving them wrong, which sent shivers down my spine.

She challenged us to live our lives by participating, not by spectating.

And she defined destiny as finishing the job.  Not about being given magical powers, but by staying the course every day and making it happen.


100% phenomenal. And during a training week where the wheels totally came off, exactly what I needed.

Week 15 Mileage:

Running: 44.1

Biking: 25

Swimming: 7500 yards

To cap off the week, the annual Barkley marathons began in Frozen Head on Saturday morning at 9:23am.  If you ever wanted to feel pathetic about your athletic aspirations, google it.  If you ever wanted evidence that I am in fact crazy, know that, along with my PCT hiking fool cousin Noah, I intend to enter it one day.

Because why not.  No limits.

But for the next 6 days, my athletic limits lay in 3-6 mile easy runs, race day strategizing, and obsessive weather checking.

Reminds me of the Lake Placid thread with likely asteroids and a high of 212 degrees.  Man, that was epic :-P

Coffee Milk Week 14: The K Factor

And just like that, its taper time.  Week 14 marked my last week of official "volume" training before the dreaded taper....with a long run of 15 miles, a 10 mile tempo run -  clocking in at 56.8 miles total, my last 50 plus mile week.

If a shitty dress rehearsal means an excellent performance, I am screwed.  Every single one of my runs this week was fantastic for one reason or another.  Nailed my tempo pace of 8:10 for 10 miles with minimal effort.  Actually ditched the recovery portion of my 2x3 mile "strength" speed work (I told you the paces were not good - reflection for my fall marathon).  After weeks of failing to hit an actual recovery pace, I was issued a challenge to hit all 8 miles of my recovery run at 9 minute mile plus - happy to report that like the stubborn bitch dedicated athlete who listens to direction well that I am, I nailed it (seriously, hardest. run. ever).

10 miles in race kit outfit.  I have no clue why my neighbors have been avoiding me....

And my long run.  Oh, my long run.  This week I hit up the Irondequoit Bay Runners for one last jaunt 'round the bay.  After logging less than 3 hours sleep Saturday night, I was apprehensive about this run - why do I worry about such things?

There were about a dozen of us on a bright, sunny morning, with temps in the upper 20s (complete perfection with the way the weather has been!).  My soon to be husband Ken (sorry Greg) and new running buddy Kevin teamed up with me and we agreed to do 15 miles -adding on a side jaunt in Webster down Backus St.  Since Kellman and Dwyer (whose feet do not touch the ground) didn't join us, we picked up as the resident "speedsters" and started cruising.  I hoped to hold marathon pace of 8:05 - wisely NOT telling Ken, who has brought me 3 new half marathon PR's in 4 runs and sees it as his personal mission, the last PR being 1:42:27.  Mile one clocked in at 8:32 (all uphill) then we settled in cruising speed miles 2-7, averaging 7:25-7:30 without a ton of effort.  We spent time catching up about training, racing, and life - I once again threatened to kidnap Ken to run my marathon with me and he seriously looks at me and asks "Do they have a half?"....YASSSS.  (Side note - I really doubt he was serious.  One can hope, though).  Kevin offered to pace me as well, and threw in some free zip ties so we can kidnap Ken.  It took a kinky turn when he referred to the two of them as my "escorts" for the race and then...well....what happens in "run club" stays in "run club".  (I'm joking of course.  We just....kept running.  But it sounded much juicier the other way.)

Ken pulled ahead at mile 8 when we hit the Culver hills and stayed about 30 seconds ahead for the next 4 miles, thereby losing his escort status, according to Kevin, who re named him - the rabbit.  He kept checking his watch every minute, and as we hit mile 10 at 1:17, I stage whispered to my escort - guess who's plotting a new PR for me....and we took off.  Miles 11 and 12 were pretty uneventful- there's a ridiculously long and steep hill at mile 12.5 that is almost better walked, so we lost some time there - hit mile 13 in 1:40 and change and cruised down the descent at that mile to clock in 13.1 in 1:41:06.  Oh right.  Another half PR.  And this one by almost 9 minutes.

Aside from reaffirming my proposal to Ken, I also may have tried to hire him, which crossed all sorts of lines, but thank goodness everyone that is ridiculous enough to run in Lycra at 7am on a Sunday has a pretty good sense of humor.  We caught up to the gang that ran 14 about the half mary mark and REALLY felt fast - I made a joke that we were basically Kellman and Dwyer (I opted for Dwyer, as clearly I suck at selfies).

The K Factor...KanRae... take on the Bay!

We finished the last 1.5 miles strong and even tacked on an extra .15 to round out 15.15 miles in 1:58:30, for an average pace of 7:50, elevation gain almost 800 miles.

To say that I feel fantastic is an understatement.  The concept of holding an 8:10 for another 11 miles is daunting....but oddly doable.  Usually, the last run before taper is an epic disaster....instead I'm going into taper feeling energized (for running, that is) and full of optimism.

Which means....watch out for the next two weeks as I second guess every single decision I've made in the last 3 months.  Someone slap me.

Weekly Mileage:

56.8 run miles
35 bike miles
4400 swim yards

Coffee Milk, watch out...I'm bringing wildlife (my rabbit) and a gentleman escort to Rhode Island....humina humina!

Coffee Milk Week 13: So Emotional (Baby)

As I round into the home stretch with this marathon training, I've realized a few inevitable truths about myself as an athlete and person:

I don't take well to limits others set for me.  If someone sets one, I do my best to smash it.
I don't take well to my own limits.  As soon as I threw out any preconceived notions about what I could do as an athlete and challenged them, I realized I've set the bar way too low for myself all along.
I do my very best running when I've had a complete emotional breakdown or angst of some sort to "escape" from life the form of a run.

It's this last notion that has me reeling for week 13 of this training plan (March 11-17 - I'm a bit behind.)  This week was undoubtedly one of the hardest weeks of my life on almost all fronts - in terms of parenting, my job, my relationships, and my faith in the goodness of people.  There were so many emotional ups and downs with the week with almost every facet of my life, I went through the week with little sleep, a lot of stress, and only one way to escape - I ran.  I cried as I ran.  I played music really loud on my headphones and related to the songs with the angst of a teenager.  I held arguments in my head (I was always eloquent, and of course, the victor).

And I worked through it via my sneakers pounding the pavement.  My long run this week, an 18 miler, was the longest run on my plan for this race.  I realized coming into the week that this run needed to be done solo - when I first started training for Coffee Milk, I had signed up with the promise of a pacing partner - being a solo runner, I decided if I wanted to run 26.2 with a fastie, I would need to train with people.  So that's what I did.  A few months ago, my friend backed out and I was flyin' solo.  Which is totally fine, but I've noticed the run is so much different with a group or a friend - for anywhere from 14-16 miles I've chatted, learned things about new friends I didn't know, laughed, and lost track of the miles and any pain of it.  And I've loved it.  Which totally baffles me - I run to escape - as an introvert, I need my me time to recharge.  Suffice to say, I've learned quite a bit about life through this training cycle!

But if I plan to run 26.2 alone, I needed to try a long run alone.  And Wednesday, I had had enough of the week.  So I took all my emotions - all the mad, sad, angry - and channeled it into an 18 miler that gave me strength, confidence and restoration.  I went out not knowing if I had the energy to survive a mile.  I came back 18 miles later, run at an 8:31 pace, ready to conquer the world.

And I did.  After a recovery run on Thursday, I swam and biked Friday and took the day off from running to smash my 5 mile PR on Saturday at Running of the Green.

I'm so proud of this run.  Going into it, I took all the nerves and giddiness and ran with power, excitement, and a sense of pride.  And walked away with nothing left on the race course.  It was epic.

Sunday....was a shit show.  After a terrible morning, I once again laced up and took all of the confusion, sadness, and sense of emptiness to the roads to do what I do when I can't solve a problem - to breathe hard, put things in perspective, and figure out a way to deal with it.

Or sometimes, life deals with it.  Through good friends and copious amounts a little bit of alcohol, the week ended on an excellent note.

Running....I love you.  I just wish I didn't perform the best when I'm so emotional with you.  Recovery pace?  Maybe next week.  For now, I'll admit I have a running problem.  Running is my medication.  My name is Rae and I'm addicted.

Weekly Mileage:

Running: 56
Biking: 25
Swimming: 5200 (yards)

Next week is the last higher mileage week, with a 14-16 long mile run and my last 50 plus mile week before the dreaded taper.....fingers crossed either life calms down and I can keep my shit together running wise while having a less dramatic life, or stay tuned as I jump out the window and hopefully land upright in my running shoes as I continue the dramatic art of escapism,.

Running of the Green 5 Miler 2019 Race Report: Slam the Hammer Down

And just like that, the 2019 race season is underway!  Saturday Greg and I ran in what was previously known as Johnny's Running of the Green - even though the sponsoring pub no longer runs it, a new sponsor, Rochester Running Company, took over.  This race is pretty much the season opener for the Roc running season - its relatively short (5 miles), only has one incline, and features shots on the course and post race green bagels and green beer.  What's not to like?

I've raced this course many times - 2006-2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014 and last in 2015, when I was pregnant with Biz.  The past few years life with two kids, ultra training, and a slew of dumb excuses got in the way, but with my spring marathon approaching, I decided I needed to at least race before it, even if it was short compared to a marathon.

With that in mind, I took stock of my previous PR of 38:06 and knew I could break it unless the weather was horrible or I was incredibly stupid.  I set the goal of going under a 7:30 pace, which, the day before the race, my sensei advised me was aiming low and gave me a new goal:  sub 7:20 minute miles, or 36:35.  Which I duly noted race morning in the most profesh way:

Race morning dawned windy and cold, with temps in the low 30s - after the winter we have had, I would totally take it.  I forwent my usual breakfast of oats and ate a bagel with butter - cause, you know, trying new things on race day is always wise.  Greg and I dropped the kids off with our cousin who lives by Highland Park, and made our way to the Blue Cross arena.

This is the best race for socializing - as the official kick off of the Roc running season, 1200 of our best friends were ready to run, drink beer, and take shots on course.  We caught up with a bunch of old friends, and new ones, including Barry, a fellow Reaper who offered me a pre race beer, and when I declined, insisted on a pre race swig of beer (what is wrong with me - I hate beer when not racing, but the moment called, so there you go) and some of the Tri-Go guys (The Boy and the Outlaw....seriously...these guys should just take it to Hollywood) - I also met the Girl and the Girl's brother - what a great group.  We hung out for awhile with a few fellow runners, did our pre race warm ups and got ready to go!  I made a last minute decision to fore go the bun huggers - not sure if it had more to do with the weather or my hesitancy to race in my underwear be less aerodynamic, but hey, there's always next time.  

With ten minutes to go, we headed out to line up and I found my buddy Ken, who I clearly have attachment issues with during workouts.  He let me know he was aiming for a sub 35 minute finish, which was out of my reach, but I figured I could see where he started and go from there.  The gun sounded, and we were off!  

My instructions pre race were to start with a 7:30 mile and try to descend - I didn't have the heart to admit that I would never follow this; there is so much adrenaline in the first mile of a race that my goal was to not blow up so I screwed the rest of the race.  I caught up with the Boy and ran with him for about half a mile until I realized he was holding a 6:35 pace, which was just stupid for me.  Hit mile 1 in 6:42, feelin' good in a holy shit did I just do that way.  Then the wind started to pick up, and the bearable crosswind turned into a headwind.  Mile 2 was a little rougher, clocking in at 7:11, and I finally resolved the online debate I'd been a part of for the last few nights - "Is a 5 mile race a long 5k or a short 10k?" Answer:  It's a short 10k.  Don't go balls out like a 5k, you moron. 

 Miles 2-3 were the worst of the race, running wise, best of the race in terms of people - the course does a u-ey at mile 2.5, which was a crappy uphill stint, but awesome in terms of seeing all the fasties come out before you turned around and all the people behind you as you came back toward the finish.  I started counting women and figured I was in 14th place at that point, which was unfathomable as I guessed there were hundreds of women at this race (there were 592, to be exact).  On my way back I saw Ken, who was about 10 seconds behind me and yelled at me to not let him catch me, and Greg who was looking awesome!  Hit mile 3 in 21:10, and realized I was gonna PR in the 5k during this race - which I soon did, in 21:42.  Mile 4 was GLORIOUS.  The wind at my back, on my way back to the finish, slight downhill for a net mile 4 of 6:56.  

I then realized I would likely go under 36:00.  Until that pre race beer started coming back up.  F*CK.  I braved the incline of the Ford St. bridge and felt like I was gonna die....got passed by the only woman to pass me during the race here (god i hope she want in my AG - WHY DO RUNNING RACES NOT PUT AGES ON CALVES).  With half a mile to go, I decided to lay it all out on the table and just GO.  Fleet Feet cheered me on with their awesomeness with a quarter mile to go and I laid down the hammer.  Hit mile 5 in 6:52 and since I can't run tangents to save my soul, I crossed the finish line in 35:24 - 5.05 miles with an average pace of 7:01.  I immediately dry heaved on the side of the road, a sure sign I actually raced with all I had.  

Post race, I jogged back through the race course to cheer Greg on, who set a new PR of just over 41 minutes.  Caught up with some buddies of ours, including Ken, who I somehow managed to vade and come in seconds ahead of....how, I don't even know.  Caught up with the Tri Go fam, who finished super strong in 32 minutes and 33 minutes, respectively - (I really need to cash in on that piggy back ride next time).  Found Barry and expressed my gratefulness of the PR beer (PBR??) and "bought" him a beer in return.    

Checked the results and HOLY SHIT I came in 2^nd in my age group.  How the heck did that happen?  I have never even come close to placing in this race.  I did what any rational person would do and checked out 1^st place to find I had missed it by 3 seconds.  WTF.  I did a little mental gymnastics to think if that was the chick that passed me at mile 4….and I don’t think so.  Either way, after beating myself up a bit, I realized I 100% gave it my best and made peace with it. 

Stuck around for the award ceremony to collect the goods and found out that less than 20 seconds separated place 1 and place 4 in my AG – which is insane. I also found out I was 15^th overall women out of 600 which just blows my mind.    I immediately felt better about my missed 1^st placed and posed for pics with the amazing fasties that placed in their age group.

After the race I headed out for a 4 mile easy run and a day full of fun with family – what a great season opener – I couldn’t be more pleased.  What does this mean for my marathon in 2 weeks?  I have no clue.  A 5 miler and marathon have so little in common that it’s tough to guess.  But the confidence is there to give it my best shot, so this “pre game” race was totally worth it.  Runnin’ of the Green for the win!

Coffee Milk Week 12: The Magical Mystery Tour

It's like the old saying goes....some weeks you're the hammer, some weeks you're the nail.  And sometimes, you have to decide, well, fuck it, I'll just be a power tool.

And now that I've gone that way with my analogy, I'm not sure I like it.  Fine, I'll be a tool.  Nothing new there, anyways, am I right?

Don't answer that.

And now that I have absolutely no idea where that even came from, let's talk about the week.  Oh right, the mind set.  That's where I was going.  After last weeks shitty runs, the whole "life throws you a curve ball" came into play at the beginning of week 12 in the form of an email from the Race Director of my upcoming marathon - "Gary Oceansport".  I wish I was so cool to have a name like that.  While Gary Oceansport (let's call him "GO", which may be even more appropriate given his RD status) may have many talents in terms of Race Directing, it would seem that course information is not one of his fortes.  The typical RD sends out an email about a month in advance with race logistics - timeline, packet pickups, important course markers such as where the porta potties and Gatorade are, etc.  They also usually include a map of the race course from mapmyrun or similar.

This email was no exception, right down to the maps.  The email narrative referred to the attachments and made sure we knew the numbers on the maps were not miles, but rather, turns.  And that the course would be marked very clearly.  Good to know.  And then I opened the attachment labelled "marathon".  And saw this.

I'll give you a few minutes to review that.

In case you're still confused (hell, I am 7 days later), that's 40 turns for a marathon.  And a random cross over to say "hey" to the people a half mile behind you as you RUN THEM OVER.  I did what any normal person would do - I freaked out and whined on social media.  My favorite comment off of it likened it to a maze on the back of the paper kiddie menu place mat at a family restaurant, which, when you think about it, it does bear resemblance to that, or...

A kids cereal box.  Luckily, I have ample experience with kiddie cereal from Rob and Biz, so this week I scrapped my run training and just navigated cereal box mazes with the hope that this kind of race specific training will get me out of Rhode Island alive.  Or maybe not.

All kidding aside, the reveal of the new course has me re-thinking my race goals in terms of A) getting lost, B) running the tangents of 40 turns, and C) losing momentum on 40 turns.  I'm not a happy camper, but one of the ways to handle endurance sports well is your head space to deal with these mind f*cks, so I'm trying to be positive.  Meanwhile, I'm putting my affairs in order and plotting elaborate kidnapping plans to bring someone with me to act as my lead biker.  So far, I'm striking out with  a big fat zero for takers, but I'm pretty stubborn charming.  I'll get a sucker. Or just throw 'em in my trunk.  Too bad I don't have a trunk.  Shit.

In terms of actual running, it was a pretty fantastic week.  What was supposed to be a step back week ended up pretty average in terms of mileage - I upped my speed for my speed work (1.5 mile repeats at a 7:45 pace) and nailed my tempo run.

My planned long run of 10 miles ended up being a 14 mile long run with The Banter, who, despite my best efforts at being annoying as shit during our partner runs, still agrees to train with me.  It was a fantastic workout done at an 8:24 pace that allowed us to chat the whole time and afterwards, I still felt like I had quite a bit left in the tank.  Score.

Mileage for the week:

Running: 53.9 miles

Swimming: 5000 yds

Biking: 60 miles (super proud of this one - I actually got on my bike 4 times!)

With less than 4 weeks to go till race day, I have one final long effort, a race Saturday (local 5 miler to practice actually racing before I toe the line at 26.2, even if its short), and time to spend nailing down nutrition and super important things like race outfits.

Even though I was thrown the curve ball, I'm still in the game.  While it might not be the perfect race to BQ, it still smells like a PR to me if I play my game right and mother nature cooperates :)  And if I make sure to eat my Lucky Charms while studying the back of the box, of course.  After all, its almost "GO" time!

Coffee Milk Week 11: I Go To Extremes

And so it goes.  I suppose after 3 round the bay runs, a non PR jaunt was in the books.  I also should expect that not every week of training will be unicorn streamers and balloons.  Or perhaps I should get a clue and reset my expectations to the reality channel and give myself a break.

We all know that won't happen.

And before I get into my while "I'll take some whine with that cheese" mode, I should mention that most of my runs this week went great.  I had mile repeats that kicked ass at a 7:15 pace (yes, I finally updated that one!), a great 8 mile tempo run, and my easy runs were even run at a pace that would leave my non existent coach proud of me.  (9 minute miles, FINALLY).  I even took the day off from running before my 16 mile long run.  Look at me, being all smart and shit.  (I'm kind of lying here...I did do a 25 mile ride, but hey, I didn't run.  Let's be positive here).

The Hanson plan calls for 16 miles as the longest run during their plan - the thought is that you have fatigued yourself so much that you are training the last 16 miles, not the first.  16 miles shows up again one more time, directly after a 10 mile long run effort.  Those bastards.  It makes sense, when you think about it.

At this point, I really feel the need to remind myself that long run pace is an 8:45.  It makes me look like an ass when I tell the story of the long run.  I'll need it in writing when I taper and become a run hole.

If that ain't accurate, I don't know what is.

Ahem, long run.  So, of course, it was IBR long run day, which is really less of a long run pace and more of a how far can you go faster than you want to without dying kind of thing.  I ran with my buddy Ken, who becomes more and more awesome to me every week (today was no exception).  He was of course amenable to my 16 mile run idea, because he's super cool like that.  Much to our delight, there were 8 people crazy enough to join in for the 7am run - weather was low twenties, light snow, crap roads.  Awesome.

Crap would be the theme for this run.  Ken had been sick during the week and did a 4.5 hour brick on Saturday.  I had no excuse for my stiff legs other than the fact that I'm kind of a wimp, but at least I owned it.  We set off and realized about 6 miles into the run it wasn't gonna be a PR day (which, really, after Ken told me we hit the back 13.1 miles two weeks ago in 1:41:xx, come on.  You gotta know that that's not happening every week).

Time to hit the pavement!

We did pretty well up until about mile 10, when the downhills became steep, and the uphills steeper.  I usually feel like I'm holding Ken back somewhat - this time, it was pretty evident we were riding the struggle bus together.  We tried not to trash our quads going down, ran half the uphill, then power walked.  We still hit 13.1 in under 1:45, which was nothing to sneeze at.  And thank god I didn't sneeze, because I'm pretty sure I would have answered the age old "If a bear runner craps in the woods and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?"

Except in my case, poor Ken.  And at least I hit up the god send of a port a potty some angel placed right on the bay at mile 14.

And now that you've stopped reading (bless you if you had the nerve to continue) I can assure you that the last two miles, while nothing to write home about, were uneventful.  We finished the 16 miles in just under 2:10 (2:12 with potty break) for an 8:07 pace.

It's ridiculous that we were both bummed, given the fact that an 8:07 pace is basically marathon pace for me in my wildest dreams.  But hey, neither Ken or I are sane - as I headed to the Y to swim after doing a 2 plus hour run and he headed home to ride the bike.

These people I hang out with.  They crazy.  And I love them.

Week 11 Miles:

Running: 54
Biking: 45
Swimming: 4 (ish)

This upcoming week is a step back week again, which includes two ten milers and upping the tempo run and speed run length (9 miles and 2 mile repeats, respectively).  So...to specify, a long run step back and that's about it.  Hey, no one said chasing dreams was easy.  And thank god for that, cause I don't do easy!