Maintenance Mode

I'm 93% sure that I've settled on using an 18-week plan for my spring marathon, which means I have about two weeks before my training cycle begins.  Though the lack of structure is refreshing, I'm not totally sure what to do with the downtime at the moment.  Part of me wants to cut back a bit and enjoy a few weeks of extra sleep, more chocolate, and zero push-ups.  But then I feel guilty, worrying that I'll lose my fitness, and I certainly don't want to start marathon training in a deficit.  So I waffle.  I have a few lazy, eat-all-the-food days and then switch back to moderation and my typical workout plans.

This weekend's unseasonable snowfall, which did nothing to improve my motivation.

I've been a bit surprised by my unevenness during this period.  I've never trained for more than two races per year, so much of my time is spent in between training plans.  I'm disciplined and can remain committed to my fitness regime even without an immediate goal on the horizon.  So what's different right now?!

I think it's the sheer magnitude of 26.2.  I know I can follow the plan and do the prescribed workouts.  I know I'm dedicated and determined.  I know I will give my full effort and do the best that I can in training and on race day.  But there's plenty that I don't know.  I don't know if I can rack up the mileage and remain injury-free.  I don't know if the rest of life's worries will sidetrack me from my training.  I don't know how I will handle the mental and physical low in the late miles of the race.  I don't know what it will feel like to keep pushing past the point of exhaustion.

But even in my moments of dwelling on the "don't knows", I'm really just antsy to begin the challenge.  The road will be long and full of unknowns, but the reward will be worth the trials.  I can't wait to change all of those "don't knows" into "knows".  Come on, December 8th!!  I'm ready for you.

My Achy, Breaky Glutes

I've noticed a little bit of twinginess (that's a word, right?) in my right knee since my half marathon last month.  A slight bark when I've been sitting in one position for too long.  A whisper for the first mile of a run.  A whimper when climbing stairs.  I was sure that it was just overuse from the recent training cycle, so I increased my foam rolling and stretching regimens but otherwise just ignored it.  Good things always happen when you ignore warning signs, right?

My dear foam roller and Stick.
While good and loyal friends, they can't solve all problems.

On Monday, I finally admitted that it wasn't getting any better.  With marathon training dawning in less than a month, the last thing I need right now is an injury.  I reluctantly consulted Dr. Google and was surprised to see that my symptoms matched up with those of runner's knee.  But that often stems from weak glutes, I told myself.  How could I have weak glutes?!  I'm a squatting machine!

Or rather, I was a squatting machine.  You know, five or so months ago...  It turns out, all that glute strength disappears when you fall off the squatting bandwagon.  Who knew?

My ego bruised, I set out to do some clamshells, fire hydrants, and side-lying leg lifts to rebuild my former glute strength.  And was I ever humbled!  By the end of my "easy" sets of 15 on each side, my glutes were burning.  Clearly, my glute strength these days leaves much to be desired.  On the up side, my right knee has been silent since last night.  Two days of renewed commitment to glute strengthening, and my knee is happier than it's been in a month.  Now my achy glutes, on the other hand, are another story...

Do you ever suffer from denial regarding your body's strengths - and weaknesses?

Lessons from my first 13.1

While we're reviewing progress on my current training cycle, why not relive the beauty (and the misery) of training for my first 13.1?  I like to think that I learn from my mistakes, but maybe you can learn from them, too.  If you've never tackled 13.1 before, read on to learn the highs and lows of my first attempt at that distance:

Find a plan that works for your life and stick to it.  A simple Google search for half marathon training plans will yield an unfathomable number of results. Some have you run 5 days a week while others help you get by on 3. Some include speedwork, others rely heavily on cross training, and yet others focus on time rather than mileage. Find what works best for you and make it happen.

Train with friends. I had the pleasure of training and racing with my neighbor, and the friendship and accountability she provided was invaluable. The long runs seemed less hard with her alongside me, and I couldn't blow off a cold, early morning workout knowing that she would be out there waiting for me. I also trained virtually with a terrific group of ladies through Strava. My BRFs, both physical and virtual, made the training a wonderful experience. 

Log all workouts, both runs and cross-training. I'll admit that I'm a super nerd and a data junkie, and I love checking off boxes to mark my progress. Seeing the vast number of workouts at the beginning of a training plan feels overwhelming, but slowly checking them off feels gratifying and serves as a reminder of how far I've come.

Look at all those boxes to fill and check off!

Recognize an injury early on and seek immediate treatment. I lived in major denial for the three weeks preceding my race, believing that my body was cranky rather than injured. Seeking help after the race, I learned how pain-free running could be! If only I'd admitted injury sooner, I could have enjoyed race day more fully.

Learn the difference between niggles and serious problems. The aforementioned injury was of the serious variety, but I treated it like a niggle. Now I'm more keenly aware of what is an acceptable level of discomfort and what requires a call to a professional. 

There will be crappy parts of the training cycle. There will be workouts you don't want to do and days when sleeping in sounds better than lacing up. When those moments hit, know that it won't last forever. Do your best to ride the wave and hang on until you make it to the other side. Like all things in life, running and training are all about ebb and flow. Without the crappy runs, we couldn't fully appreciate the good ones. Embrace the suck.

A training plan doesn't just train your body; it also trains your brain.  During the training cycle, you will encounter moments of doubt when the magnitude of 13.1 miles seems overwhelming, to say the least. Doubt is part of the process. Knowing that doubt will come and dealing with it constructively is a huge piece of half marathon success.

Hold on to the finish line feeling.  After crossing the finish line, my feeling of pride and accomplishment was indescribable.  I chose to do something hard, I worked my tail off, and I made it happen.  How often in life are things so cut-and-dried?  In the months since my race, I often reflect back on that day and the finish line feeling.  I call on that strong, confident, badass version of myself when I need a little extra push to get through life's current challenge.

Courage, strength, resolve: a perfect recipe for 13.1 success!

If you've raced 13.1 before, what other tips or lessons would you add?

What goes up...

About three weeks before my early-April half marathon, I felt a twinge in my hip.  I had run a 10-mile training run on Sunday (which was an amazing, all-the-stars-aligned sort of run) and then on a stupid, 3-mile Tuesday morning run, something felt off in my right hip.  I ignored it, stretched more than usual, and hoped for the best.  To no great surprise, all my ignoring, stretching, and hoping did nothing to heal my poor hip.  I continued training, though I ran very little in the 10 days before my race.  After I crossed the finish line and hobbled for several days, I knew I needed professional help.

I found an incredible chiropractor, herself a mother runner, who worked hard to put my body back together.  My lowest vertebrae were misaligned, likely from pregnancy more than running, though the constant pounding of the road certainly didn't help matters.  Under her guidance, I took a complete break from running for two weeks and then tentatively returned at the end of April.

Since I've returned, almost all of my runs have been top-notch.  I feel like I'm in the zone: my body is strong, my brain is engaged, my heart is happy.  Every time I lace up, I remind myself that this zone of running nirvana can't last; eventually, I'm going to have a crappy run.  After all, what goes up, must come down.  I leave my house half-expecting to bonk on the run, but each time I've returned grateful, rejuvenated, and full of life.

I'm at this peak, and I fear the inevitable pit.
Could I just skip the pit and settle for the reasonably-priced snacks and drinks?

To make this string of amazing runs all the more unbelievable, the runs have been wrought with opportunity for complaining and agony.  We have launched into a full-on St. Louis summer, complete with palpable humidity and scorching temperatures.  But I haven't minded.  Torrential rain threatened to blight my run commute last week.  But I just felt all the stronger because of it.  Even fighting through last week's treadmill run left me feeling elated rather than defeated.

I know this can't last.  Such zen-like states are fleeting, in both running and life.  So while I am trying to soak up the beauty of each run, I can't help but wonder when the other shoe is going to drop...