Magnolia Road Run – She’s a Bitch

I admit it. I’ve been getting  a bit psyched out about my run with Dean K. It’s two weeks from today. Here’s what’s causing the nerves:

1. I’ve never done a trail race
2. I’ve never done 20.4 miles on trails, racing or otherwise
3. I’ve never climbed 2,721 feet on trails running from 8,000 feet to 9,400 feet. I can hardly breathe just typing it. Would it be wrong to run with on oxygen tank?
4. I’ve never run/pooped alongside a celebrity runner
5. I’ve never done 1-4 above all at the same time

You’d be nervous too.

Dean and I shared emails yesterday. I do love to say that. I told him I might cry if it gets too hard. He told me crying is good because it adds to the drama. At least I am being up front and he can’t say I didn’t warn him.

My interview with the big man is by phone on Tuesday. Thanks so much for your interview question ideas. They were a great help. I’ve compiled a list of some good ones, so stay tuned later this week to be the first to read the interview Q & A!

In preparation for the upcoming race, I told you I wanted to run the famed Magnolia Road west of Boulder. Ken and I did it today. This run has quite a reputation. She’s hard. She’s tough. She’s not for the faint of heart. She takes you up into the clouds. She chews you up and spits you out. This is what the bitch looks like on my Garmin (spoiler: yes, I did make it):

  I stole this from someone:

The alarm went off way too early at 5:45 a.m. I lay awake in those pre-dawn moments when you snuggle down into your sheets, face planted against the drool-drenched-mattress, knowing that you are way too tired to even think about getting out of bed let alone running 15 miles.

Ignoring each other because that’s what we do in the early morning, Ken and I filled up water bottles and my bladder with Accelerade and water. I grabbed a cup of steaming coffee for the 45 minute drive to the start and tried to choke down a piece of cinnamon raisin bread (whopping 32 carbs per slice!).

I loaded up my new hydration pack with the bladder and two 20 oz bottles of liquid. I had two GUs and my camera. Oh, and some Wet Ones should I need them during a roadside squat.

We got to the start at 8,100 feet by 7:00 a.m. The road had just changed from paved to dirt, which was fine with me. 50 degrees. Perfect.

Here’s where I look like I’m doing a l’il Irish jig:

   

By mile one, I knew the pack was not going to work for me. It just didn’t fit right and kept swinging dramatically from side to side with each step I took. Since I would be taking about 30,000 steps that might be an issue. I had the straps as tight as they would go. Don’t get me wrong. I think the pack itself is comfortable, light weight and practical. I just think it’s too big for puny self. I will say that once I removed the bottles, I still had some jostling of the bladder, but it felt much better and served me well during the run.

Since I follow everything that is told to me on the internet, I had cleaned out the bladder with Polident denture cleaner. Spearmint. Probably not the best move, but my water was minty fresh for the run and so was my breath.

As we headed up the first huge hill, we hit mile one huffing and puffing like we had just finished 15 freaking miles. Only 14 more to go. I hid the water bottles knowing they were causing the pack to move so drastically. I would have to survive on the 1 liter of liquid in the bladder. It’s kind of neat how I would transfer from the bladder in the pack to my bladder. Anyone else find that fascinating?

The hills seemed endless. Just as  you’d crest one and have a bit of a downhill respite, you’d be greeted by another incline shouting, “Oh, yeah? Try this one, you pussy!” At about the two mile point a herd of runners flew by us going the opposite direction. Damn University of Colorado cross country team. I know they love this run, as it was made famous by the CU x-country team in the book “Running with the Buffaloes.” Humbling to say the least watching these guys fly by, effortless.

Here come some of those damn buffaloes. They need to slow the eff down:

 

We trudged on and up.

At mile seven, we hit the Peak to Peak Highway, crossed over and ran another half mile on a rocky dirt road. At the turn around, we had our GUs, stretched and headed back. We both felt pretty strong at this point.

If I haven’t said so already, this road afforded amazing views of the foothills and the Rockies. Wildflowers grew everywhere. Occasionally the route would open up to a high altitude pasture with grazing cows and horses. The air in Colorado is so crisp, cool and bright with no humidity, especially up that high. Kind of like Florida. Or Texas.

Here is where we crossed over the Peak to Peak Highway:

   

Ken runs by a pasture:

 

And up a hill:

Told ya’ it was pretty (not me, the scenery dummy):

I did not have to stop to crap on this run. Miracles never cease to happen. So I did a fake out for you. If only I could poop with shorts on. Well, I can but it’s not pretty.

Here’s where I tell you about my studly husband. He has run several half marathons this year, and is training for another in October. He has never run more than 13.1 miles at a time. Today, he ran the whole flippin’ 15 miles with me. He wants you to know he has his first blister on his tender toe. Ever. Cue the violins. I smell a marathon in his future even if he doesn’t.

Nearing the end, some dude passed us on the last gargantuan hill leading to the car. I picked up the pace and kept a steady 20 feet behind him. He was letting out the most ungodly sounds – like he was either yakking or dumping or both. But, I think it was just an “I’m going up a big hill and I’m tired” GRUNT like none I’d ever heard. Think I’ll try that one with Dean.

Overall Stats:

15 miles
2 hours, 28 minutes
1,650 feet elevation gain
1,650 feet elevation loss
9:44 average pace (okay speedies, you try to run this bitch fast)

I do feel pretty good after the run with the exception of an aching ass. I’m glad we took it kind of slow.

Don’t forget my giveaway! Ends Friday.

Crap at the Track

Okay you East coasters and Midwesterners  in the middle of a heat wave, don’t kill me. I have to admit that this week I’ve been spoiled by very cool running temperatures. My long run on Sunday was 50 degrees and overcast. For all of the complaining I did about feeling exhausted on runs, this cool wave has restored my confidence. Trust me. The heat f&%!#s with you more than you know. Cut yourself some slack.

Week two of marathon training and I’m feeling strong. I am only running four times per week. One long, one tempo or speed/interval, one mid-week longer run, and one short recovery run. Of all the runs I still find speed to test me the most. This week’s was the following (not many intervals due to it being the start of the training cycle):

2 warm up miles
2 x 1600 with 800 recovery jogs
2 miles cool down

The end result was:

Mile 1: 9:03
Mile 2: 9:07
Mile 3: 7:09
Mile 4: 7:11
Mile 5: 9:41
Mile 6: 8:38

I went to the local middle school track. You might recall that last summer while running at this track I had a bathroom emergency and ended up dropping some friends off in the cluster of pine trees by the track. This is the one and only spot within miles to squat. It was a lifesaver. Even if it is my son’s school, I feel I can defile it if I wish. What’s worse? A bit of waste in the trees or messy pants? No one likes a mom with messy pants. Especially a 12 year old.

On Tuesday my stomach was cramping even before the intervals began. I feared the worst, but knew I had those trees to fall back on if needed. While I’m doing some warm up laps, guess who shows up? Mr. City Worker Spraying for Mosquitoes. And guess where he’s spraying? Around the track. In the pine trees. In my outside bathroom.

I panicked. How the hell was I supposed to have a bathroom emergency with Mr. City worker around? I eyed him throughout the whole run, navigating how I could crap if need be. When he left towards the end of my workout I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t end up having to use the trees, but it was nice to know I could if need be. Kind of like how when you’re on an airplane and the captain turns off the seatbelt sign. Even if you don’t have to at that moment, you like to always have the option.

Here’s the thing. In the midst of my second 1600 I found myself thinking how the hell do people run entire races at a 7 or sub 7 pace? It took every ounce of energy I had to just do it twice. I continue to bow down to you speedsters.

Don’t forget my Scape Giveaway!

Suck It, Wall

Here’s how my taper is going (yes, Jamoosh, those are all microbrews):

In my quest to run a flawless marathon during which I meet me time goal, do not mess my pants. and feel energized and pain free the entire time, I have been doing some reading. Mentally preparing you could call it.

Last week, I referenced an article by Michael Bane called, “Breaking through the wall” (Men’s Fitness, 1999). There was discussion of pre-race brain training. Now it’s time to look at how to avoid the wall (i.e., an apparently insurmountable physiological barrier which stops you in your tracks), and if you can’t do that, then what to do when you hit it and hit it hard. We are assuming when your face slams up against that invisible vertical concrete slab, you will not consider quitting. It is simply not an option (unless you are injured, paralyzed, get your period or your legs fall off).

The following is from the same above-referenced article:

Five ways to avoid the Wall (but, there are no guarantees): 

1. Train realistically. Athletes have a remarkable talent for self-deception. The best way to know how you'll respond in a situation is to practice that situation first. If you're training for a marathon, at least one of your training runs needs to be 26 miles. If you're training for a race that takes place at night, some of your training needs to be at night.
2.  Cross train. The more you move toward harder endurance events such as a marathon, the more overall balance seems to pay off. I like to trade off sports (for example, biking and running) to keep my interest up and injuries down. The added plus is that my overall higher level of fitness helps carry me through longer events.
3.  Avoid judgments. Fine athletes talk themselves into quitting because they were running below par. You need to set these judgments aside on race day.
4. Prepare mentally. Forget happy talk; you're going to hurt. But you know that already. In my mental rehearsals, I try to be as realistic as possible and acknowledge that it's going to be painful. I also remind myself that, despite it all, I've crossed a lot of finish lines.
5. Plan flexibly. Remember, long athletic events tend to be chaos systems. You can't foresee everything nature is going to throw at you. Mental flexibility is your greatest tool for getting past the Wall.

Six things to do when you hit the Wall

1. Say, “shit, shit, shit.” (I added that one)
2. Keep going. "Program" yourself before the event that you're going to press on regardless, even if you're barely moving.
3. "Table" your thoughts. The easiest way to quiet those negative thoughts is to set them aside. Sometimes I actually visualize a locker-like box, where I stuff all my negative thoughts away until I have the time and energy to deal with them.
4. Get out of your head. Don't dwell on how amazingly awful you feel. Focusing on a really attractive woman running nearby can be a great distraction. I've done it, and it works. Hormones are wonderful things.
5. Try bribery. Depending on just how bad you're feeling, a judicious dose of deferred compensation can help. I've gotten myself out of some grim times with the promise of a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food if l cross the finish line. (The bribes can get pretty big: At one point, I had to buy myself a motorcycle.)
6. Open negotiations. Give yourself permission to quit if you'll only go another 10 feet ... another quarter mile ... even around the next corner. I have climbed entire mountains by cutting interim deals: "Another 200 vertical feet, then I'll sit down and reevaluate ..." After that 200 feet, it's, "Hey, I don't feel so bad ... maybe I'll go another 45 minutes and then I'll quit." Keep repeating this until you're so close to finishing that you can say, "What the heck? Let's wrap this puppy up."

I think it’s all great advice, especially the one about “getting out of your head.” I distract myself with attractive women as well.

The one point I take issue with is, “If you're training for a marathon, at least one of your training runs needs to be 26 miles.” This is a personal choice, but for me, running 26 miles is too hard on my body to do twice in one training cycle. My long runs (10+ miles) this training season were 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 11, 16, 18. 5, 18. 5, 13.

Thoughts?

Q & A Time

I don’t get tons of questions from bloggers. Probably because I’m no expert on anything, and everyone knows it.  But, occasionally I get a query and I don’t want to leave you hanging. So, read on:

Apple Crumbles asked, “The day after a long run, say 18 - 22 miles or even a marathon, do you feel depressed or cranky? I'm trying to figure out if I refueled correctly or if it's simply over stressing.”

Hello my Apple Crumble friend! What are apple crumbles anyway? Reminds me of cobbler or streusel…hmmm…streusel.  But, I digress. Yes, I get a bit out of whack the day after a long run or a race. Mostly it’s because I’m usually taking the day off and don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not running and getting that adrenaline fix. However, sometimes, I’m just glad to have the freaking day off!

Certainly after a race, especially a marathon, there is that mental letdown of knowing what you have worked for over the past months has come and gone. My advice, be kind to yourself and don’t spend too much time dwelling on if/why you’re in the mood you’re in. Just re-focus and put your energies elsewhere. Like making something with apples that crumbles and sending it to me.

FitMacDaddy proclaimed, “Man, I would not be a runner if I had your intestines! I can't even poop in someone else's house, let alone on the side of the road. I've been known to hold in my poops for entire camping trips!”

Then he wanted to know, “What is your marathon goal now that you're such a speedster?”

Wow, Mac Daddy. My hope for you is that you never go on a two week camping trip. And not pooping in people’s houses? That’s hard core. I think I’ve stopped-up every toilet of every friend and acquaintance I’ve ever had. Then there was one time at that frat party, but I won’t go into that.

As far as my marathon goal – did you just call me a speedster? I think I love you. Seriously. My goal is a very original one. I don’t think any other blogger has ever mentioned it: to BQ. But in reality, I like to have several goals when racing. I’d take any of these end results, but would prefer #3:

1. Beat 4:03, the time of my first marathon
2. Break 4 hours
3. BQ by coming in under 3:50:59. I have been training to run a 3:45 marathon, but we all know just because you train for a certain time doesn't mean you get that time. A girl can hope and dream, can’t she?
4. Win the race by running a 2:12 marathon. Totally doable.

Jennifer (URL not available) queried, “You may have answered this question before but do you carry TP with you on all your runs? The pooping doesn't concern me as much as the wiping. If you do have TP with you what do you do with it?”

Excellent question. No, I do not carry TP and I’ll tell you why. The roll does not fit in my fuel belt. Really, I don’t carry it because the whole thing is gross and inappropriate and yucky with or without the TP. If I use TP then I have to stay in the shit position longer, find a way to dispose of the TP (I am NOT carrying it home along side of my cell phone), and be aware of how much I am NOT washing my hands after wiping. And if I want to wash my hands after wiping that means I need to bring some antibacterial soap and it just never ends. Kind of like that book, “If You Give a Mouse a Pancake” and how he’s going to want syrup and a plate and a napkin to go with it. Live simply.

LMC stated, “I absolutely love the new background on your blog. Is it the Colorado River?”

I have no clue what it is. I would like to lie and say that yes, in fact, it is the Colorado River and I took this picture while I kayaked down thus river right after running a marathon. But truth be told, I got this off of the new blogger/draft site. If you haven’t visited this site and you’re with Blogger, give it a try. It will improve the aesthetics of your blog and we will all thank you for it.

Steve Q. questioned, “Can glow sticks be used as tampons?”

Fantastic question, Steve. I have never used a glow stick as a tampon, and I’m guessing it’s not advisable. I know things get dark in there, but do we really need to make it glow?

Kim exclaimed, “I did 18 miles this morning and thought of you. I was jogging along, working out the morning farts when all of a sudden - RED ALERT - it was not just a fart. Got it clamped in time but had to find a bathroom fast - luckily the assisted living place nearby was open. Thanks, old people!”

She then asked, “Aren't you glad I think of you when I have to crap in the middle of a run?”

I am wiping tears from my keyboard right now because of how touched I am. When people crap and they do so in my name or at the very least think of me during the act, it is incredibly flattering. BTW, going poop in an assisted living place is genius. You could do it on the seat or even in your pants and it would be par for the course. You could also steal a couple of Depends on your way out.

Apple C. wanted to know, “What are the Hammer / Heed products? Can you offer a link? I have a whole box of GU but I can't stand the stuff.”

So, my crumble friend, have you made my dessert yet?

The Hammer/Heed products are all the rage, especially for those of us plagued by GI issues when we run.  Their claim to fame is that the gel and sport’s drink products are full of ingredients that are easier to digest than most sport’s stuff out there. You can read to your heart’s content HERE, but basically you get a tasty and affordable product with the essential carbs (23 g.) and electrolytes, but it’s gentler on the tummy. Only 2 g. of sugar. The sport’s drink, HEED, is less sweet than most drinks because Hammer uses Xylitol - “a natural substance that can be found in a variety of fibrous fruits and vegetables.” Check it out. I ordered 32 serving powder for about $20. And Ms. Apple, they have an apple spice gel that is yummy. Without crumbles.

Sarah admitted, “I actually had potty issues on my long run today and I thought of you....is that strange??”

No, Sarah, not strange at all. Many people think of me when they have “potty issues.” I’m pretty sure Obama takes dumps with me on his mind.

Meg noted, “Super run and hey, YOU QUOTED Buddha on my blog! You never cease to amaze me with your depth and breadth....from poop to the very spiritual. You didn't make that quote up, did you? Just wonderin'.”

Meg! Do you realize you just gave me credit for creating something said by Buddha! No, I didn’t make up that quote. It came right from the big bellied God himself.  He who thinks I write like Buddha will have the kingdom of heaven at their fingertips.

Any other questions or queries? Any add-ons to my answers? Go for it.

Overflowing

Running Tip: Now that spring has sprung, dress light! Wear clothing that is suitable for about 10 degrees warmer than it is. Unless you are training to run Badwater. Then just wear your down coat in the sauna.

Okay, seriously blog world. Is that all you’ve got??? Many of you entered my giveaway, yet so few were courageous enough to send a picture of yourself looking ridiculous. So, what I take from this is that you all want free stuff, but don’t want to put yourself on the line and look stupid. That actually does make sense. Or, maybe it’s a time issue. As in, do you guys really have families and jobs and marathon training to tend to?

How am I to have a fruitful photo contest if you don’t send me your obnoxious photos? Here are the perks of taking a photo risk with me (here come the bullets):

• The odds are in you favor - especially for the guys. GUYS, send in your pics.
• You get five extra entries to the giveaway
• You have a chance (and a pretty good one) to win a really cool hydration pack worth $70
• I know modeling and talent agencies comb my site looking for potential subjects. This could be your big break.

I’m done begging and pleading. Do what you want. But just know I expected more. Don’t you wish I was your mother? I could say this to you everyday.

Today I’m going for twelve miles. I wish for many things on my longer runs. To feel strong. To be present. To see the beauty around me. To not shit. That last wish is a tough one and is usually not granted. It would be a more realistic wish if I said, “To not shit my pants.” Shitting goes without saying.

That said, did I ever tell you the story of my most embarrassing moment? Believe me, I have a laundry list of them, but this one takes the cake.

I was 18. I thought I was in love for the first time. My then boyfriend, Michael, wanted to take me to meet his grandparents in Annapolis. But prior to this blissful meeting, he wanted to take me to his favorite deli for a rich, huge, calorie laden Ruben sandwich and chocolate malt (foreshadow). This sounded good at the time.

Here’s what I remember. I ate the whole sandwich and drank the whole malt. We walked outside and it was about 95 degrees and humid. The tar on the road was steaming and stunk. You know when you feel sick, you notice all the sights, smells and sounds around you. They are vivid. In your face. They all make you feel worse.

We got to Michael’s grandparents condo. It is important to note this was a condo. Not much room to run and hide (foreshadow).

We sat around conversating (anyone watch the Biggest Loser? Anyone annoyed by Victoria who used this word, convesating, in a sentence?). Suddenly, my stomach cramps up. The pain is so severe I’m can’t carry on a conversation. I excuse myself to the little powder room off of the living room. I blow it up and flush it down. No harm no foul (NHNF). I return to my seat on the couch with Michael’s grandpa, “Poppie” and his grandma.

Not a minute later, wave two is upon me. The cramping is intense. The need to use the bathroom again is urgent. I excuse myself again. You can get away with one trip to the bathroom, but two trips in five minutes and you should probably just announce to everyone present, “I have diarrhea!”

This time when I unload, the toilet hesitates. It swirls and bubbles, but eventually agrees to ingest what I’ve put in it. I am praising the Lord, promising to only do good deeds for the rest of my life.

I head back out to the family, who by this time knows I’m sick. I vaguely remember grandma dimming the lights and telling me to lie down for a moment sweetie. I stretch out a bit, already feeling humiliated, but knowing the worst is behind me (foreshadow).

Are you kidding me? Wave three is in the house. Shrouded with shame and trepidation, I again head for the bathroom. It’s hard to believe I had anything left, but I did. With sheer relief because I felt so much better and knew I got it all out, I flushed the toilet. Only this time, the water hesitated as if to say, “Really? You really think you can drop this kind of a load and I’m just going to take it with no consequences?” I watched the water churn slowly, then it started to rise. Little whispers and pleas flew from mouth, “Just go down. Please go down. If you go down I’ll do anything. I’ll join a convent. I’ll stop having pre-martial sex. I’ll give all my savings from working at Roy Rogers to charity. Anything!” But, the toilet gods did not listen and did not care. The shit water rose and rose until it was spilling and gushing from the toilet. I pulled up the small rectangular rug on the floor and watched, horrified, as the shit water started to seep under the door and out into the hallway.

Now, stop reading for a moment, and think to yourself. WWID? What would I do? Seriously. What would you do? What could I do? It’s not like I could sneak out the back window, although I wanted to. I had to call for help. I had to call the first love of my life who I had not so much as farted in front of to help me. “Michael!” I yelped from the bathroom. Michael came over and screamed, “OH MY GOD!” He then called in Poppie, who kindly told me to step aside as he brought in the mop.

And there you have it, my friends. Don’t ever say I didn’t tell you my deepest and darkest secrets. I think since I just put this out there, the least you can do is send a damn picture.

Drinking: Kirkland coffee brewed by Starbucks

It Gets Messy Sometimes

Am I the only one who has unexpected issues while running? Do you know what I'm referring to? Not to be graphic, but my G.I. tract sometimes goes ape shit when I run. Well, not like I'm shitting like an ape, but you know what I mean. I can be perfectly fine, head out for a run and start having issues.

Take today for example. It's 65 degrees in Longmont, so I headed to Boulder to do the Eagle Loop. Half way into my second loop and miles from the car, I start having issues. I don't know how much detail you want, but suffice it to say that an unexpected start to something womanly plus an episode of something made funny in the movie "Along Came Polly" hit all at once. (Okay, if you haven't seen the movie, you still must know what a shart is, if you don't, look it up).

I am sure this can't be just happening to me.

It's so random, too. I ran an entire marathon without so much as a fart and then I go on this benign seven miler today and I'm a mess.

Don't get me wrong - it was still a great run. How could it be bad being in the bright sunlight, looking at the Rockies and running amongst the cows and horses?

Like I've said in a previous post: I'm always glad I did the run when it's over. Even if I needed to be hosed off.

If you're comfortable, share with me if this happens to you, what you do about it, how you prevent it.