Striving for a sub-20-minute 5K

Two months ago, I got the Women's Running issue with a 5K training plan ("Break 30, 25, or 20 Minutes").  I looked at the plan and realized my times fall right in between the 25 and 20 minute plans--25 minutes involves intervals at a 7:45 pace (my easy runs are at 8-8:15), but intervals in the 20 minute plan are 6:16.

I had never run anything that fast before, even for short intervals, so I put the plan aside to focus on half marathon training and the relay I did last weekend.

Then one morning, I tried out a fast interval.  I did repeats at a 6:16 pace, and even though I was holding on to my treadmill for dear life, I was hooked.  I started following the plan around three weeks ago, and today I had a breakthrough speedwork session: 5 miles, with 6 quarter mile repeats and 1 full mile at a 6:11 pace, with a mile recovery.

Definitely the fastest running I've ever done.

I know the treadmill doesn't have wind resistance or hills (I use a 1.0 incline to adjust for some of that), so I'm guessing a mile at that pace on the track would be much harder for me, but it was still a very positive experience.

But now I'm nervous!  I signed up a few weeks ago for a Halloween 5K on Saturday morning. I wanted to do it for fun--my daughter is coming with me, I'm wearing a tutu, it's a super hilly course, and I just started this plan.  However, I'm also hoping I can feel like the speedwork has made a difference.  I decided to have two goals for the race:

1. Keep my pace under 7-minute-miles throughout the race.
2. Feel like I am pushing myself for me--not to stay in the position that seems right for me.

Every time I try to run fast, I get a little scared and pull back. I guess I don't want to feel like I run out of steam, so I keep myself in a safe, comfortable spot--and I often decide on where that spot is based on who is around me rather than how I feel.  Once the fastest women are well ahead of me and the slower women are behind me, I stay in my position instead of pushing myself.

I'm already more nervous about Saturday than I have been about my longer (half marathon) races!

Finishing the Fall 50

On Saturday, I finished the Fall 50 as a member of a 5-person relay team.  Our group brought two teams paired approximately by pace so that we could all run our segments with a partner.  I ran one leg with my boyfriend (who could not, incidentally, "kill the hill" at the end of our leg--even though he's naturally a slightly faster runner than me, I wound up waiting for him at the top) and the other with Liz.  

Liz just recovered from an injury that involved a few months off from running, and she was nervous about joining our team again.  We met last year when Matt was injured--Liz became my default partner, and I was absolutely terrified about running with her: she has a high school and college track background, plus tons of age-group awards and fast races under her belt, and at that point, all I had accomplished since having my daughter 4 years earlier was bonking during one half marathon and finishing another. We ended up being an amazing team: we pushed each other and managed to run at a 7:45 pace across two of the hilliest legs of the route last year.  This year, despite her injury, we got our pace down to 7:25 for a challenging 4.1 mile leg.  Running with Liz, and talking to her about training, has given me much more focus and determination about training than I had before.  Where I used to measure my success by miles logged, now I find myself thinking of new ways to push my boundaries and challenge  myself.

Being able to pass at least eight people during our leg while running in tutus was pretty awesome.  I definitely had a girl power kind of race as I thought about how many people probably saw our outfits and thought we'd be too "girly" to work hard right before we powered up a hill. 

Next year, we're planning on running the race together as a two-woman team.  I haven't run a marathon (or at least, not one I'd like to remember: before my daughter was born, I ran/hobbled one through a stress fracture and another through serious diarrhea) and don't want to train for one, but 25 miles broken up by time in a van, proper hydration, and stretching seems more manageable while also sounding like an amazing challenge.   

Vegan foods for runners

(Yes, sometimes I do feel like I'm being tugged to the finish line of a race by the prospect of oatmeal, vegan muffins, or pasta with soy sausage!)

In this month's Women's Running magazine, three of the recipes look delicious and include only vegan ingredients:

Apple raspberry crisp
Molasses almond cookies
Tropical smoothie

I love that the tropical smoothie is dairy-free but included in the article on calcium and its importance in helping runners keep their bones safe and strong, because so many people believe that vegans are deficient in this crucial mineral.

The vegan desserts are even more exciting, especially since they're in an article that's not specifically on vegan food (it's about replacing refined sugars with natural alternatives like agave, date sugar, blackstrap mollasses, honey, and brown rice syrup).

I eat a predominantly vegan diet.  For me, that means eating low on the food chain but including occasional fish (once every week or two, I eat salmon for its healthy fats, and I take an omega fatty acid supplement) and yogurt when I crave it (which is normally once every two or three months).

When I was younger, eating vegan involved extensive label reading, which made me ultimately feel like I was too obsessed with food.  I stopped eating vegan for awhile, first dropping my whole vegetarian identity in the aftermath of a meatloaf craving but then rebuilding so that I was eating vegetarian in a mindful but not obsessive way.  Now I don't stress too much about being vegan; I just am.  I feel stronger and healthier when I eat balanced vegan meals, and I don't beat myself up if something non-vegan winds up on my plate: a few days ago, the barista at my favorite coffee shop accidentally gave me non-vegan chocolate banana bread instead of the vegan blueberry bread I normally eat.  I knew after the first bit that he had made a mistake, but chocolate banana bread was a fun treat.

For runners, especially runners adding mileage, eating vegan does require some planning.  I'm used to it after more than 20 years of vegan or vegetarian eating, but I have evolved over the years.  Now I can quickly plan meals that involve a grain plus protein plus good fats plus either fruit or vegetables.

I get frustrated when vegetarian and vegan options aren't included in training plans for runners, because I know that the right combination of vegan foods can be incredibly satisfying and sustaining.

Earnest Bars in chocolate peanut are one of my favorite pre-run foods.  I normally eat one plus a pack of raisins around two hours before my run.  Afterwards, I refuel with stel-cut oats, peanut butter, fruit, and flax. I also love experimenting with vegan muffins and quick breads: I want to try to veganize the butternut oat muffins in Women's Running.

Does the word "vegan" on a label make other runners skeptical about taste or nutrition?  Do you have go-to vegetarian or vegan products that make you feel strong, healthy, and well fueled on a run?

Relay bound

I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon for the Fall 50.  This year, I'm doing it for the second time on a 5-person team.  Next year, my friend and I want to sign up as a 2-woman team.

Here's what I've packed:
Two sports bras
One running tank
Capris and two pairs of shorts
Two pairs of thigh-high Halloween socks
Three different weights of jackets (today the wind was 30 MPH--hoping for less on Saturday!)
A tutu from Target
A bag full of Luna bars (chocolate raspberry) and Earnest bars (chocolate peanut)
Peanut butter
Almond butter
Fig Newtons
My eyelash curler
My Garmin
Two pairs of running shoes
My massage stick
Icy hot

I am so excited!

Running uphill with my "chugga chuggas"

I just listed to the "Run Like a Mother" ladies' podcast on hills.  Perfect timing, since I'm doing a relay race in Door County next weekend that I know from experience feels like it's about 80% uphill:

http://www.fall50.com/

Last year, I was part of two five-person relay teams. We organized by pace so that the teams would be synchronized during the run.  It was the first time I ran with my best running friend, who is seriously the only woman I know who shares my love for running along with my overall feelings about goals, training, and racing (plus she's a divorced mom and runs at my pace).  We're uncannily well-matched but would never have known that until we ran two legs of the Fall 50 together.

She's been injured this year and almost dropped off of the team but rejoined when she finally started to recover.  We're running one leg together, and I'm running my other leg with my boyfriend, who is also very evenly matched to me for pace.

I haven't listened to the podcast on relays yet, but I will this week (and between now and next Sunday, I will have thought a lot more about relays--pros, cons, and costumes!). I'll also write more on the dynamics of running with partners and on a team later this week.

Right now, I'm in love with the way Dimity and Sarah called arms "chugga chuggas," as in the art of the train that pushes it forward and the part of the body that pulls a runner up the hill.

Since I live in a very flat area, my first hilly race messed with my head and my body.  I actually had to drop out of the half marathon in no small part because I let the hills psych me out.  After that, I sought out a personal trainer who recommended Chi Running. I read the book, which has amazing advice about how to learn to love hills.  Feeling my arms help me as I ascend and letting myself be pulled forward by my lean have really helped.

But so has advice I read from Kara Goucher. When confronted with a choice in routes between the easy and hard way home, always take the hard way.

I don't always do this, but when I read that statement, I assessed what I was doing: two years ago, I always took the longer way home to avoid the hill that leads to my apartment.  No wonder hills scared me!  I spent miles staying away from them.

I've started taking on that hill when I'm faced with the option of climbing it or taking the easier way home. When I want to work on speed, I pick flat routes. I know I should try hill repeats, but I haven't talked myself into it yet.  It seems like it might have the going-nowhere feel I get from my treadmill runs (I know they're good for me, but the scenery doesn't change).

This week, my goals are to rest and recover so that I'm ready for the race, to do some speedwork on Monday and Wednesday so that I feel sharp, and to take easy runs on Thursday and Friday that help me center myself.

Since the relay isn't a race that I can run for an age-group prize or a specific time, my goals will be focused differently. I want to feel strong on every hill and to take them with confidence and mastery rather than self-doubt, and I want to run with my partners in a way that feels good for us both.

To deal with the hills, I am going to use my "chugga chuggas" along with the skills I learned from Chi running. I'm going to divide the hills into segments so that I don't waste energy at the bottom--I want to take the final third of every hill strong and keep that momentum on the flats and downhills. I will also try to look at the hills as a chance to prove my strength instead of as something that makes me doubt my training.

And when I'm struggling, I'm following Dimity's advice to break it up: count steps and make mini-goals. I just hope this year the min-goals don't involve counting how many piles of wet, slippery leaves I have to pass before I reach the top of a hill with one of those signs warning trucks.

Of course, I may take all of the hills out of my runs this week so that I can save my strategies--and my muscles--for Saturday.

In January, this will seem like pleasant weather, but...

This morning ata around 3AM, I couldn't sleep because the wind was so loud it rattled the windows and walls of my house.

It's not inclement weather or a "weather alert"(I spend most of the winter tracking these days on intellicast.com, because running outside when the windchill is -30 isn't something I want to do by accident!). Still, any time the weather actually wakes me up, it seems like it might affect my run.

So I stayed in bed for awhile wondering if I'll be able to come up with a route that avoids the wind as much as possible. I am absolutely sure that wind resistance--like snow, ice, heat, hills, and all of the other things Mother Nature throws out there to keep running interesting--makes me stronger and that, without it, my speedwork on the treadmill is faster and easier than it would be on a track or a straight stretch of road.  And I know by the end of December, January, and February, I'll have written more posts about running through sleet, snow, and ice.

Last year, when I returned from an early morning run, my eyelashes were frozen and my then-3-year-old daughter decided to help me warm up by pulling the ice off for me.

Right now, though, as the seasons are changing, I think I'm a little more of a wimp about the weather than (hopefully!) I'll be in February.  It's much harder for me to leave for a run when the weather's transitioning from warm end of summer and crisp early fall to wild winds and crazy temperature changes.

I spent a few minutes asking myself: Will I be able to even hear my IPod over the wind if I bring it on my run? Should I shorten my planned eight mile run and try running six with some faster segments, or will I regret that next week when I'm running a relay race and know I missed my last run?  Can I make a route that avoids every gust of wind?

I won't regret running through wind and slightly colder temperatures once I'm back from my run, and I'll definitely look back on my October and November runs with a little bit of nostalgia soon, but right this second, I don't want to go outside and feel cold!

What kind of weather makes you dread going outside more than hitting the treadmill? I'll save my questions about how to quickly thaw out hands that are too cold to untie shoes for winter.

To Pass or Not to Pass (No, Not Gas!)

A few weekends ago, I ran a 5K and was schooled on passing. I had read in Kara Goucher's book that in races, we need to pass other runners "with authority." I've taken her advice on that before: in a small trail race I ran over the summer, I only passed other runners when I knew I could pick up my pace, sustain it, and re-position myself in the pack.

At the 5K, though, I did some crazy mental cartwheels about it: the woman looked like she was going at about the same pace as me, but I was also at about my maximum exertion level for the terrain. I knew if I passed her, she'd be RIGHT behind me and I wouldn't be able to run any faster, even for a short interval. I decided to try it, but I did it tentatively and without consequence. She passed me all of two seconds later and then, 2 miles later, was the women's winner of the race.

On training runs, I approach passing other runners with a very different mindset. I run at 6 in the morning, and I have profound respect for all of the other runners braving Wisconsin's crazy seasons before the sun comes up.  I very rarely speed up to pass someone if they're close to my pace, and if I'm running without a fixed route (which is most of the time--I use a Garmin or recreate my runs after the fact with mapmyrun.com, instead of leaving the house with an exact plan), I normally make a turn into a neighborhood or an alternate street so that I don't make a fellow runner feel like we're in a race.  I passed two women on a trail the other because there was no other option, and I made a serious effort to pick up my pace on the hill as I passed so that (1) I had that authority and (2) I looked like I was working hard--to me, it's MUCH harder to be passed by someone who looks like he or she is out for an easy, sauntering stroll than to be passed by someone who is booking it.

Today, though, I had no compunctions about passing a man when I realized he was wearing one of those garbage bag-like things wrestlers used to wear to hit their target weights.  Seriously.  I can't even imagine thinking that's a good idea!

Maybe I overthink passing--could be others don't really care (or they're not paying attention to me).  Maybe I could feel a little stronger if I passed people and didn't spend most of my time thinking, "I hope I didn't make that person feel bad about him/herself!" How do other people feel about passing other runners or being passed?

A Week on the Run

I start my running week on Sundays and basically use the following plan to structure the week:

Sunday: 2 or 3 miles at tempo pace, with 2 or 3 easy miles.
Monday: Speedwork on the treadmill.
Tuesday: Hills.
Wednesday: Speedwork on the treadmill.
Thursday: Easy.
Friday: Off, easy, or crosstraining.
Saturday: Long run (8 to 10 miles).

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I do my running in the basement after my daughter wakes up, and on Saturday I schedule a babysitter so that I can go outside for my long runs. I used to feel slightly guilty about  using a babysitter so that I can run, but I honestly believe that I can offer her a stronger, more balanced mother if I take that time for myself.

This week, my biggest goal is to take an off day on Friday.  I always include it in my week, but I haven't taken an off day since the half marathon I ran last month.  This article from active.com definitely gives a good picture of why rest is necessary (and how to rest without just, well, resting!):

http://www.active.com/running/Articles/What-to-Do-on-Rest-and-Recovery-Days.htm

Even though I agree with all of this, and I understand that balancing hard and easy days is crucial to making strength and speed gains, it is hard for me to deal with "mileage envy." I'm already a little envious of the extra 9 miles my boyfriend is going to rack up when he runs a half marathon in a few weeks (I'm doing a 4-mile race the same day), and I get a little critical when my weekly mileage drops below its usual level because of a rest or crosstraining day.

Plus, I genuinely love how I feel before, during, and after my runs. It's hard to give up that feeling in favor of a few pilates moves that just make me realize how tight running makes my muscles!

Focusing on rest seems like it should be easy--like I should be looking forward to Friday as a break from a week of training that my body deserves and maybe even craves.  But I love my runs and the way they help me structure my day, connect with my body, and center myself.  Maybe I can try using my rest day to somehow be mindful of the gains made through recovery, but it's much easier to feel stronger when I'm doing intervals with the Beastie Boys or Gretchen Wilson blasting on my ipod.

New Shoes, Old Shoes

Look!  I got new shoes. And they're exactly the same as my old ones.  

I switched to Nike Free after reading "Born to Run"--they're not quite barefoot running shoes, but they are incredibly different from the shoes I used to wear (with a support for my very high arches). I bought them planning to make a gradual transition but loved them so much that I completely stopped wearing my old shoes with the supports and ran around 42 miles on them during my first week, including a long (10 mile) run.  

Minimalist shoes are fairly controversial, and I decided to try them for the same reason many runners do: I had an overuse injury and didn't want to stop running.  

When I increase my mileage, I have tended to suffer from achilles tendon pain around my left ankle.  When I was in my 20s and training for a marathon, this became a stress fracture, and my recent experience was similar: I had completed a spring half marathon, and as I was training  for my fall half, I started having sharp, shooting pain every time I landed on my left foot.  

The pain was bad enough that I had to stop and walk on a training run with my partner several months ago.  The next day, I bought the Frees.  

The shoes haven't been a miracle cure. I also saw an ultramarthoner and Chi running instructor who gave me some form tips plus told me I have "weak feet." I've been doing foot exercises, but the Frees also do help me maintain proper form and strengthen the small muscles around my ankles and arches.  

Setting SMART Goals for a 5K

I've only run four 5Ks (one when I was in my twenties, three more recently--and two of these were not road races; they were Olde English-style trail/grass mixes through creeks and over hay bales), and I've never trained specifically for one.

This month, Women's Running included a 5K training plan with 3 goals: break 30 minutes, 25 minutes, or 20 minutes. At first, I was a little frustrated: I've hit 23:08 and 21:19 minutes in my most recent 5Ks, so 25 minutes is too slow but 20 sounded impossible, especially once I read the paces they recommended for intervals, hills, and tempo runs.

But then I tried a tempo workout on my treadmill--2 minutes easy, 1 minute race pace. And I did it! SO I decided to set some SMART (Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, Timely) goals that might help me hit the target.

Specific: Run a 5K in 20 minutes.
Measurable: It's a time goal, so I can measure my pace and progress toward race pace easily.
Attainable: Maybe! It may not be attainable during my target 5K, which is on a very hilly course, but that one will let me gauge my fitness and, if necessary, find another one.
Realistic: If I complete the training program, I should have a base of speed/strength that makes shaving off those 1:20 minutes difficult but possible.
Timely: My goal 5K is on October 29. That gives me just enough time to add in the speedwork, focus my training, and taper for the race.

Because of my frustration with time goals for my last few races, I'm also going to try to set some other goals so that I will be able to measure my success at following through with the training plan and having a strong race, but those goals are a little harder to plan and measure.

"Hey, Baby!" "Woo Hoo!"; Or, Why Do Guys Harass Women with Jog Strollers?

Running with a jog stroller is not easy. My daughter is almost five and weighs around 40 pounds. Trying to navigate hills, street crossings, and sticks on the sidewalk while talking with her, singing with her, and listening to her say, "Faster, Mommy, Faster!"definitely reminds me that I am a mother and a runner--the two cannot be disentangled two or three miles into a jog stroller run/

Running with a jog stroller is not sexy either.

At least, that's what I assume. So what's with the catcalls, the "Hey, Baby!," the "Whoo hoo!," and the horn honking that I elicit when I'm out at 6AM or 4PM huffing and puffing with my stroller?

I know catcalls aren't actually something that equates to sexiness: dudes just *do* it; it's not like they spend much time examining the women they honk and holler at, and it's certainly not true that they're paying as much excruciating attention to what a woman looks like as, say, we do when we look in the mirror.  I guess some guys just find yelling at a blur of pink and black running clothes socially acceptable.

Maybe running with the stroller makes it easier for them to identify me as a female jogger from further away? Maybe since they know I've had a baby, they think I want to, um, have their babies?  I have no idea what makes me as a mother runner more of a target for this than I am when it's just me (of course, why people feel like catcalls are ok AT ALL would need to be the subject of a much longer post!).

There is one guy who always greets me with a "Good job, mom!" when we run past each other on a bridge near my house. I love that recognition, and I appreciate it that someone is taking the time to give me a verbal high five for being a mother runner.

"Hey baby, if you were my woman, I'd push that stroller for you," however, doesn't really give me the same sense that someone appreciates the work I'm doing for myself--and really, for my daughter.

Today I Ran Fast

I started running with my father when I was 19.

Before that, I had been a drama geek in high school (with a brief and tragi-comic experience playing basketball as a freshman that mainly involved benchwarming but did include making one basket for the wrong team). I wasn't an athlete; I didn't have experience with coaching.

Because of this, I viewed myself as a jogger for many years. I didn't have a concept of "training" or "competing." My runs were very different from the suicide drills we ran for basketball.

When I ran with my dad, we would run the same 3-mile loop every day. I gradually built my mileage by dipping into neighborhoods, but I didn't track miles. I ran for 30 minutes or an hour, and then I came home to the rest of my life, the parts of my life when I was expected to be a daughter, sister, student, and girlfriend with a part-time job and a huge list of books to read.

Running was a huge part of my life during those years as I struggled through graduate school, a car accident, two long and unhappy relationships, marriage, a summer in Egypt, pregnancy, a move to the Midwest, a divorce, and the suicide of someone I knew.  Running helped sustain me through much of this, but I treated it like an old friend who could take whatever I dished out: I stopped running, I suffered through stress-induced junk food binges, I started running again, I backed off during pregnancy, and I started back with a desire to return to my old distances that was always countered by Mommy Guilt: an hour out of the house was too long.  When I got divorced, it was also often impractical.

Somewhere something snapped for me.

I realized that I had been a runner all along. I wasn't "just" a jogger.  Running wasn't something I did to burn calories or to get it over with--it was THE thing I wanted to be doing.  Even though I hadn't known it, running was giving me the strength I needed.

Being able to call myself a runner and to start viewing my running as "training" has helped me take it seriously in a way I never would have imagined: I value what it does for me enough to hire a babysitter on alternate weekends to help with my long runs, and I value myself enough to set goals that require me to put my effort into this process, this action that has given me so much.

Since I started viewing running as something that gives as much as I put into it, I've managed to cut my half marathon time down by ten minutes (from 1:51 to 1:41).  I haven't quite met my goal of 1:40 for the half marathon.  In fact, I almost cried when I realized I would just miss it at the half I ran last month because I've hit 1:41 in three races during the past year.

But I have discovered that I can run fast.

I ran a 10K in 42:44 and a 5K in 21:19, and I am trying to follow a training plan that will help me finish a 5K in 20 minutes or less.

So today I ran fast.

While my daughter was asleep, I spent 30 minutes on my treadmill in the basement doing race pace intervals.

Running fast wasn't my goal when I was younger, and I know I won't ever be fast in the elite-athlete sort of way. Learning that I can push myself to feel strong and fast during my runs, though, has helped me develop a set of goals that work for me as a mother and a woman.  They're goals that differ so much from the goals I set when I was in my twenties that I almost don't recognize myself. Or at least, I recognize that my goals have shifted with my values, my priorities, my needs, and my life.

When I run fast, I connect with my body in a way that I never did when I was younger. In some ways, I regret that.  Mostly, though, I am amazed at how much stronger and more confident I feel now than I did then.