Poodle Man Revisited

The other day I was driving down the road that leads to my parent's house in Roswell and I saw Poodle Man. I almost didn't recognize him since he wasn't with Poodle but was with Indeterminable Breed of Dog(for short I will call him Tan Dog). Admirably, Tan Dog was leashed. So different from the Poodle days... Poodle Man waved and I noted that he was even slower than he use to be but there he was, still out there putting on foot in front of the other.

Seeing him reminded me of that blog post I wrote nearly four years ago and when I got home I reread it. And there it was: six minutes and fifty-nine seconds. A one mile personal best. . .

Fast forward nearly four years later: The past six months have in particular been a bit torturous for me. I've been trapped in the real life "valley of darkness" as Steph and I say--referring to the low point one always experiences in any long endurance event. You know you will have your turn there and you have to get yourself through it. And if you've ever been with me in a race and seen me in throes of the valley of darkness then you know I like to be left alone.

But this turn in the real life valley of darkness has just been too long. It has been riddled with injury after injury (ITBS, ankle tendonitis), sickness (pluerisy, bronchitis, asthma and a MRSA infection under my eye), a do not start (Mystery Mountain Marathon), a shameful do not finish (the Atlanta Marathon at mile 17) and just some personal minutiae that individually isn't so terrible but poo piled up on poo? Well, the stench will near cripple you.

So yeah, I've been pitiful and feeling sorry for myself and haven't been writing because I personally don't appreciate listening to those type of people much less being one of them. I have long said that I think one of the best traits a person can have is the ability to laugh at themselves. But I found, quite unhappily, that I was no longer able to laugh at myself and well, I didn't want anyone to know. Besides, why write about what I myself didn't want to read?

I have been told that I'm kind of funny. And really, next to being called skinny, I think that is the best compliment ever. I love being funny and making people laugh. I mean, really, what's better than spreading joy? But all that stacked up poo? It has eaten away at me and I have definitely lost my sense of humor. I found I could no longer fake it. It was too hard to pretend the light, the funny and the witty when I absolutely haven't been feeling it. So I quit blogging.

But I have really, really missed blogging. I compose blog posts in my head all day long yet for some reason can never bring myself to actually write them. Scared that stinky poo would find itself in and I would, possibly, reveal too much (not sure I believe that). Maybe I've been scared that I've lost "it" or, worse, that I never had "it" and really, after all, I am not that interesting or even all that funny (little more likely). I suppose it doesn't matter what the precise reason was why I wasn't, couldn't blog I just know that I wasn't up for facing any more poo when I was already down. I just couldn't be the Bob Mould of blogging. (No offense to Mr. Mould. I am a huge fan. Just not so much into the dark writing myself these days.)

I have decided though; fuck it. I don't care if it sucks. I am not going to care if I am not funny, not witty, not interesting because I am still here. I am still, like Poodle Man, putting one foot in front of the other. So, I might be a little less bright, a little slower but you know what? Even my crappy 5k a month ago (en costume, no less)was at a six fifty EIGHT average pace and that is still better than I was 4 years ago. And well, I know it ain't much but it is just enough to inspire me to keep on keeping on with it all.

Puffed Up and Pouty Like a Swollen Creek

I can't talk about Fight Club yet. I am sour on things; bratty and really don't have a lot nice to say. Everything is off, out of place and just plain not copacetic in my little corner of the universe. Yes, I am hiding--throwing sticks and tossing stones and just not ready to come out. Maybe when it is sunny here again I will.

I do feel guilty for neglecting the blog. I haven't written because I am so negative lately. I can hardly stand to be around myself; much less spend time, thought, and words giving it a name, labeling and cataloging it here for you. I can't even find humor at it--at myself and well, that almost never happens. The yuckiness that I feel lately is thick and chewy and I want nothing to do with it and trust me, neither do you.

Yesterday though, when the sun peaked out a tiny bit, I did go for a little run in the morning and while not fantastic it was okay because it didn't hurt, I could breathe and of course, I was getting to run. But I didn't feel great and it was totally disgusting down by the river where I ran: sewer smell, gray and red mud slicks, twisted and broken trees, mushy gravel and occasionally, an impassable flood pool. All that on a mostly paved path.


In the afternoon I was feeling even better and really wanted to get another workout in. But Tuesdays Beau has his theater class . Typically, while Beau is in class, Carmella and I go shopping or go down by the river and she rides her bike and I run along side her. However, having seen the condition of the trail that morning and knowing Carmella's sensibilities I knew that wasn't going to work out. And because of the general lack of resources, as discussed in the previous post, shopping was out too.

So I convinced Carmella to go on a hike.

I convinced her by telling her we didn't have to run and that we could bring Lola.

Beau's theater class is in the historic section of Roswell and right near the old mill.
The mill area has been completely transformed in the last 10 or so years. When I was younger I thought of the area as a bit sketchy but now I am not even sure if I can afford to breathe the air over there it is so fancy and cute in it's pretentious small town quaint. (Hmm, that sounded a bit snarky. See, I told you I am not nice lately.)

I have heard that there are hiking trails over there and I have been wanting to check them out as I am always looking for new places with new sights to put the miles in. I have no idea how long they have been there but as far as I know they were not there when I lived over in that area during grad school. (I lived a block over on the street with all the churches. A huge 2 bedroom for $500 a month with hardwood floors that I had all to my little lonesome. It was cheap and wonderful and that is where I lived when I very first started running. Ah, nostalgia. . . )

At any rate, for those who have not been there and are also in need of a new place to run it looks like there are quite a few trails and they go all the way down to the cliffs at Allenbrook . How long the trails are I don't know-- the maps I saw didn't say but I am really really bad at reading maps. You go and figure it out and report back to me.

The trails are a little technical, probably most like the ones at Sope Creek. I don't know if you can mountain bike on the mill trails or not. I did not see signs saying one way or the other and I did not see any mountain bikers or really anyone else on the trails.

I brought my camera and we took pictures along the way.

This is the waterfall at Vickery Creek.
I am not totally clear on the names since I saw that it was called Big Creek in a few places. All I know is that I use to hang out a lot down at the waterfall off Sloan Street in high school and we called it Vickery Creek and we could walk straight across the top. And sometimes, never me, people jumped off the waterfall.

This is how it looked yesterday. I was kind of scared just to stand near it. Betting no one is jumping off it or walking across the falls this week.
There are mill ruins all over. Most people hate kudzu but one of the things I love about the landscape of the South is seeing the battles between the vines and the architecture. It is a war in slow motion.


Even though she made me promise we didn't have to run. She ran most of the time. Seriously. She is so silly. Running? It is what kids do. That walking crap is for old people.

I have never seen so many mushrooms in the area as I have this summer/fall. In fact, I have been wanting to make cut outs of Smurfs and put them under the mushrooms on the trails I run on. I think people would like that.

In my not so scientific study of local trails in the area and mushroom life the ones at the Lieta trail are the most interesting: bright pink, red or the spotted variety. At Kennesaw Mountain and at the mill trails all I've seen are the brown and white kinds and toadstools.

We walked down Sloan Street to check out the Founder's Cemetery.
I could stand it only long enough to take few pictures. I got chewed to pieces by mosquitoes if I didn't keep moving. I can't believe how bad the mosquitoes are and here it is mid fall.Aren't they usually gone by now? It it terrible. My legs look like I have the pox!

Do you see it? In this picture?

The ray of light? The sun? It is what I am hoping for these days. Trying not to read too much into it that I saw it, however briefly, in a cemetery. However, it is October so I suppose that makes sense. . . somehow.

Maybe?

Mojo MIA

I know. I suck. No blogging. And that is because I am over(under?)whelmed by summer. Can't seem to get it together.

I am desperately missing the marathon but this 90+ degree heat is not making me want to get out there and run at all. I am totally lost.

But I can feel an organization tsunami coming so maybe things will come together and I will once again be a running, cycling, swimming, blogging machine. Right now though I am sloth and slogging slowly through the heat and the lack of child care that is known as summer.

Pray for me.

2008 Silver Comet Half Marathon Race Report

Don't be fooled by the title.

One of those words in there is a misnomer.

This is my 3rd year running the Silver Comet Half Marathon. I really like this race simply because in the past I have done very well at it. In fact, my 2 fastest half marathon times are from this race: 1:41xx and 1:36xx. I even placed both years top 3 in my age group. This race is also the perfect marathon tune up. The past 2 years I have trained through this race; meaning, no taper-- just raced it as my last hard run before my marathon taper.

Well this year going into this race was a little different. First off my fall marathon is 2 weeks later this year than the previous 2 years. Second, if you have been reading my blog for a while, you know that I have complained off and on since last January about various calf problems. And if you have been reading then you also probably know that I have not had what I would call a successful race since November of 2007. Though, in retrospect, I will admit that Ga ING marathon was a pretty good effort considering I was coming off an injury--or rather still had an injury.

My training hasn't been great. Sure, I've put in a lot of miles and effort-- but duration doesn't always mean "hard effort". To perform well in a race you definitely need to put in a hard effort in training. So while I have put in a lot of time and miles hardly any of it was under a 8 min pace for the past month.

The reason I have purposely avoided a hard effort in training is that when I push the pace my legs give me issue and I can't recover fast enough to continue to train. However, if I go slow I can put in the miles--lots of miles. But as soon as I dip below that comfortable forever pace of 8:30 Bam! I start having problems. Distance is not an issue for me but speed**, apparently is. And well, to race you kinda need the speed part. It is the key component of running fast.

**I feel compelled to add that this is relative. I am by no means an elite runner by any standards. I am just talking about being faster than I was.**

Despite all this I had been cautiously optimistic that since I was "taking it easy" in training that I could put up a good race. A PR of sub 1:36 wasn't likely but it wasn't out of the question either--at least that is what I told myself. In September I had done 2 12 mile training runs that came in under a 7:30 avg pace. I figured my speed** was still there. The question was more could my legs handle it? That was the unknown for me and recent experiences told me: Not likely. Still though, ever the optimist, I didn't dwell too much on the odds. . .

My training had been going okay. I was, if nothing, being consistent and cautious. I was working through my injury: icing, massaging, stretching-- babying it. However, I was, I admit, definitely pushing the envelope with the mileage this month.

I've run a long run ( 2 21 milers, a 23.5 miles and 25.3 miler)and a medium length run of 13-17 miles every week. The first week of October I jumped up to 58 miles with only 4 days of running. The next week I ran 65 miles. The following week I ran 72 miles and was on my way to 53 miles for last week as a cut back week. I ran 10 miles at marathon pace on Monday. I ran a 21 miler on Tuesday (50 seconds slower than goal marathon pace). On Wednesday I ran close to tempo pace for 6 miles. Thursday and Friday were to be easy days.

On Thursday my house of cards came crumbling down on me. On my 3 mile "easy" run my calf completely locked up on me. I hobbled my way through it for a 9:21 avg pace after having gone out at least 2 minutes faster. After wards my calf was swollen, tight and tender to the touch. I babied the heck out of it and stayed off it Friday. I hoped and prayed over it.

Fast forward to this past Saturday: race day.

I woke up and everything felt good. I could still feel some residual knots in my calf but it was softer, better--still melon firm but not rock hard. So yeah, better. I went in with the optimistic attitude of "you never know" --really thinking it was all going to workout for me.

I drove to the start and parked at the middle school as I have done the past 2 years. This gives me the opportunity for a .8 mile warm up. I started out slow, easy pace. About 4 minutes in my calf started to tighten up.
Uh-oh, not good.
I slowed the pace and even walked a bit. The tightness turned to that familiar ache and reached down and was griping my arch. Nope, definitely not good. But! (I thought,optimistically still consoling myself.) This happens frequently when I start out. Most times the muscle relaxes if I keep the pace easy enough and I can later push the pace. This is how I have done all of my long runs. By the 3rd or 4th mile almost always the tightness/pain is gone and I can run a faster clip. For 20 more miles I should add. Certainly, other issues arise: hip pain, IT band tightness etc. But I consider those an aspect of the distance and they are not debilitating like the calf issue. Meaning, I can run through those at whatever pace. With the calf issue I cannot maintain my pace. Often times I am even forced to walk because the tightness doesn't allow my muscle to flex. It is immobilizing. Again, though. If I go slow enough I can usually work through it. . .

I got to the start area and still had about 15 minutes to warm up. I went behind the building to this open grassy area and did strides and then stretched. Basically running back and forth; really giving my legs a good warm up.

I lined up for the race in my usual spot--about 10 feet back and off to the left side. After a bit of a wait the horn went and we were off. I purposely held back. I didn't have a watch since I have yet again broke the strap of my Garmin but I was keeping the tightness at bay. I knew I wasn't going too fast. Other than my leg I felt very comfy and strong. At the mile split a 7:20 pace was called. That was pretty much perfect since last year I ran an average 7:23 pace. Definitely not out too fast.

Even still I could feel the muscle getting tight and the cramp coming on. So I slowed down. This was hard because while I was definitely capable of holding, even pushing the pace I knew I couldn't. So I got passed a good bit. I just looked down at the ground. Because of this I missed the 2 mile split call.

The tightness was getting worse and was now really hurting. So I pulled back a bit more. I heard the 3 mile split but can't remember exactly. It was 22 something. Either :36 or 46. I really can't remember. However slowing down had helped and while my leg wasn't exactly comfortable and loose it was starting to feel better. I took that to mean I was past the worst of it and could open up my pace. I started to push without issue. I felt really happy and felt like I was running how I should be running. I focused on not thinking about the pain and started picking people off. Anyone who runs a race knows that is the best feeling in the world. Being cautious and mindful of my calf though I would run up on a group and feel out their pace before passing--certain that I could maintain before pulling past them.

I missed the 4 mile split but sometime around then the pain and tightness came back full on. I still tried to maintain the pace I was running --since I just passed all those people-- but I could feel myself compensating my stride. It is hard to explain and it may not have even looked like how it felt. But it felt like I was pulling around a stiff leg and leaning to the right. My left foot was even hitting my right calf at times. I tried to focus on running from the hip, imagining my legs were like the hands on a clock--like how Ryan Hall's look--even and smooth-- and fast. I looked down and bitterly observed the runners' in front of me. Their calves. They looked loose, soft, not permanently flexed and stiff like mine felt. I hated them and their perfect calves.

And then my left foot went numb. My heart sank. It was South Carolina all over again. And then I wasn't running. I walked for a second and then stepped off and stretched. Someone in front of me was doing the same. I felt a teeny tiny bit better that someone else was struggling.

I got back on the course and tried to run. I couldn't. So I walked.

I walked past a kid calling splits. I asked him what mile this was, thinking--knowing--it was 5 but really wasn't sure. He said "I don't know, but you're at 36:50."

For a split second I felt optimistic realizing I wasn't really off pace for a PR or even, at the least, finishing close to last year's pace. All this, of course, assuming I could pull it together. I mean, energy wise I felt great. Warmed up and ready to race. I started running again and was instantly reminded of the vice that was holding me back: my left calf muscle. I asked a guy who passed me if this was mile 5 and he confirmed that it was.

And, just like that, I was done.

And just like that I quit. I stepped off the course and watched as people passed me. A few optimistically called out to "hang in there" and "that I could do it". and yes, I knew I could do it but I wasn't about to hang in there for 8 miles of pain and discomfort and possible permanent injury.

So when there was a break in the crowd I crossed and headed back the way I had come. Again a few people called out to me "Not to do it!" and I just ignored them, not making eye contact. I walked down to the trail opening as runner after runner passed me and asked the police officer blocking traffic how I could get back to the start. I explained, that I was quitting: I was injured.

He told me to wait right there. I did as told and when he had a moment he called a ride for me. He told me it was going to be a bit and offered to let me sit in his patrol car since it was cold. I told him I was fine and that it was humiliating enough to have quit the race that I didn't need people thinking I was also getting arrested. He laughed and said that I would get cold and change my mind and the offer was still open. Of course, right then I vowed to not change my mind no matter how cold I got. I am so stubborn and dumb.

And he was right.

About 2 minutes later I was cold! But it wasn't bad. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself as I watched the throngs of runners with perfect calf muscles pass me. I thought about Steph and her attitude. Her always positive attitude and how she cheered everyone on during the South Carolina Half despite her tummy woes and decided that being sad and negative really wasn't doing me any good. So, I got over it. Quitting-- it just didn't matter in the large scheme.

I cheered for people as they went by and tried my best to be encouraging. Admittedly I am not a natural like Steph. And I guess I wasn't doing all that great of a job being positive because Lauren passed me and asked if I "was okay?" And another lady stopped and gave me her jacket (I had on a skirt and short sleeves--way under dressed compared to most but dressed fine for one who planned on racing. Le sigh.). She told me to leave it on the post for her. I am glad people were still nice to me even though I felt a bit of a pariah for being a quitter.

A few minutes later I got to see the leader coming on the return.
I was glad I got to see that. He looked amazing! Wish I could run like that!
And, he had a almost a 5 minute lead on the these guys:
I was hoping to see the lead girls come by but my ride showed up. And oh boy, does the universe has a sense of humor when it comes to me.
I had to ride in a police car anyway.

I know some of you might be surprised (others, relieved--Mom, Dad) but this was my first time riding in the back of police car--having never been arrested. It was kinda exciting! And I was surprised by how little space there was! And that it was really clean. The officer giving me the ride laughed at me taking pictures of myself and offered to take one of me.
I told him I got one but I would love it if he would hand cuff me and pretend to arrest me and take that picture. I guess the answer was no since all he did was laugh and the handcuffs never came out.

He was really nice and drove me back to my car. I hurried and drove over to the finish hoping to see the leaders finish but I missed the overall winner. I got there just in time to see the girl leader finish. Unfortunately though not in time to get her picture.

I commiserated briefly with others who were there but were injured and couldn't race. Birds of a feather, you know. . .

I left because I was really cold and couldn't stay to watch for others to finish since I was driving to Bainbridge after the race. Details of that trip will be in another post --so don't ask (Lala).

As a recap, of course, I am sad that I didn't finish the race. This is my first ever DNF. Quitting really is hard! In theory it sounds like the easy way out but when you are committed and passionate about something stepping away from it is just about the hardest thing in the world to do. I've often wondered what would make me quit a race; since I see myself as a person that pushes herself through just about anything. Generally, I view "just finishing" as an accomplishment and is always one of my race goals. In the past I have always been happy that I fought my way through pain, sickness, and misery to just finish when a race wasn't going my way. Quitting, really wasn't ever an option for me.

However, I can also say with absolute confidence that Saturday I would have still been sad if I had finished. Finishing the race would have gained me nothing but making my injury worse and probably force me to drop out of the Atlanta Marathon. And to me that was a more devastating choice. So yes. I quit. I quit one race in hopes that I can still run another--maybe even, dare I think it, race the marathon on Thanksgiving.

So. . . I am taking a full week off from running and hoping that gives my calf enough time to heal and recover and I can resume training for the marathon. I know that doesn't sound like a lot of time but the way I see it I haven't taken more than 3 days off from running since I had the flu 4 years ago and even then that was only 5 days. I've run through every single injury I've ever had--even sprained ankles. Some I've even raced through. So for me I think 7 days of not running is a huge step in the recovery direction.

That said, I do plan on cross training-- weights, swimming, cycling, yoga etc. I just can't imagine not exercising everyday. That would make me depressed. And, I should add, in the past 7 years--since Carmella was born--I don't think I've ever gone more than one day of not doing some form of exercise. So I just can't even fathom. Call me addicted, I don't care. Exercise is just what I do. Like shower or brush my teeth.

However, I am a bit lost on how to resume my training next week and if you have suggestions or experience I would like to hear it. I've toyed with a few different ideas:
Jump back into a high mileage week (60-80 miles)--as was my plan for this week and next--and just continue to a 2 week taper and pretend this week just didn't happen.
Or . .
Resume my base running mileage of 40-50 miles per week and then do a one week taper.
Or. . .
Do a reverse taper and build mileage back up so that race week is a peak mileage week.

Thoughts? Opinions?

As always thanks for listening and of course, congrats to all those that ran, raced and/or Pr'd the Silver Comet last weekend!

Stay Tuned !

Oh no!
Why is Nat in the back of a police car?
Why is Nat wearing this silly hat?


Who cares, but boy doesn't she look smart in glasses?

Hi there dear readers that I love!

I have had a busy and crawzeey weekend and promise to write up my boring blog posts about it as soon as I get a chance. Right now I need to crawl my way out from under the mountain of laundry that has a accumulated from neglect and have to go teach an art lesson on Charles Schulz to Beau's class this morning.

But till then I leave you this picture:

Sigh.

If only my Aunt Boo was Obama's running mate this whole deciding who to vote for would not at all be a problem. Seriously. Obama needs Boo on his team. Heck, I think McCain could use her too.

Wait a minute.

What am I thinking?

Boo for President!

I hope they have a write in option on the ballot.

Band War

Steph invited the kids and I to join her and her girls at the Lassiter Battle of the Band.
Steph has a thing for marching bands. She was in the band in high school. I wasn't. I am not musical. At all. I did once have a boyfriend my senior year of high school that played sax in the marching band. But really, other than that, I don't remember much about my high school marching band. But that might also be because I didn't attend many football games. Spectating has just never been my thing. I get easily bored. I prefer to do, not sit.


And speaking of not sitting, this morning I did my long run. It went off well--21.5 miles and no severe foot pain! Just the regular long run pains. I was actually happy to have them.

I thought. This? This is normal.

So I am relieved I got it in and I am over the hump and able to move on with training for (some) fall marathon without a nagging or permanent injury. And, I actually had my highest running mileage week since last April, gosh, maybe even March. Partly, of course, this is due to the race last Sunday but overall this week I managed 58 miles running (4 days total), 121 miles cycling (4 days total), and 3.5 miles swimming (3 days). I am planning on dropping the bike mileage and replacing it with more running. As much as I don't want to do it I think higher running volume is what is going to get me faster. I hope at least. It has worked before. 50 mpw just seems to be keeping me the same. Gonna have to make another go at those 70 mile weeks. Ugh. It is gonna hurt. I just know it.


Oops. Sorry. Digression. This post is about the band wars. . .

So anyway, after I finished my run I asked the kids if they wanted to go see a battle of the bands. It surprised me that Beau knew I was referring to marching bands as he started marching and pretending to play the drums. Carmella wasn't so sure she wanted to go but Beau talked her into going to "the band war"-- as he called it.

Like Beau, I was thinking it was going to be a bit more intense. You know like a Bring It On sort of thing but instead of cheer off's there would be march off's. But no. It was all very organized and pedestrian. Maybe march off's happen in the finals. We still have our wrist bands and can go back any time we want today.

But we will probably not since I am already tired from having to walk up and down the bleachers. I am all marched out, to say the least.
Steph sat all the way at the top of the bleachers. Sure the view was great but it wasn't easy going back down.

Anyone who has ever run a marathon understands exactly what I am saying about going down stairs afterwards (up really isn't a problem for me).

Can you say Tin man?

I've posted this before but it cracks me up so much that it bears re-posting just in case anyone missed it last time: