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.