So yesterday I had to log a forty-five minute tempo run, according to my about.com half marathon training plan for "intermediate beginner runners" (whatever that means). And, I was going to get up and do that before work, but we all know how this one goes . . . right, I turned off the clock. This constant battle with my alarm clock is driving me batty and makes me feel guilty and probably has something to do with my inability to fall asleep earlier than 11:00 p.m. Sometimes I get up for morning runs, but the majority of the time I feel as though I’m glued to my bed and then I come up with some lame excuse about how I need rest so I can be alert at work, which is pretty true. No one wants a half awake editorial assistant making sure their communications materials are proofread and accurate—you can’t do this job, which takes intense concentration, unless you’re wide awake. So, more often than not, I tend to lunge across my bed and turn off the alarm.
Oh, the best laid plans . . .
The good news is that I did finally do my tempo run after work, but not before I had a snack for fuel. Usually around 6 or so when I get home I am starving! Most runners will tell you that the pre-run snack is an important element to a successful workout, as long as it is light and healthy. However, you do need to give your body some time to digest it. So after having a small bowl of cereal and milk, I did take some time to let it digest (good thing too, because it was really humid in Oak Park when I first got home from work). I finally trotted outside some time after 7:00 p.m., which would have been fine, except that it’s not summer anymore, so the sun sets earlier these days.
My bad. I started my run quick and easy, and it felt good for say, about a couple minutes, then I felt as though I was lagging. Ironically, I find that when I take a rest day (Monday), sometimes the next day into a run my body takes more time to adjust and go into “auto pilot mode” as I like to think of it (i.e. smooth, controlled pace). I’m thinking, Okay, you need to keep pushing, today is all about pushing it. Even though I didn’t want to, I did. And, after the 2 mile-marker (I’m just guessing on this time-wise, because I have no idea where it actually was on this particular route I took), I started to feel so much better.
That’s when I realized the sun was going down. Oh yeah, it’s September. Running was much easier in the summer months when some mornings the sun was shining and it actually made me want to jump out of bed all fresh and go for a run or head to lake shore after work for a quick jaunt. The sun was going down, and I was pretty far out, jogging through the back neighborhoods of Oak Park. You can’t turn around now, that’s not going to help. It was pretty dark by the time I passed through the park on LeMoyne for a water break, and I knew I still had halfway to go. So, what did I do? I kept pushing steadily along, and you know what? I think I actually increased my speed on miles 3 and 4.
Thank God for street lights, I thought. I was running not just to complete a workout, but to get the heck out of the dark and get home. I wasn’t really concerned about my safety since I know this is a very safe area (okay, I was a tad concerned), but I was more concerned about the fact that I was running in dark shorts and a dark gray tank top and had low visibility. The street lights weren’t that helpful. So I kept pushing. Actually, pushing it felt really good. And, I ended up finishing at a 9:00 minute mile average pace for the 4 ½ + mile loop that I ran, which made me feel pretty great since for me, that is fast! (Unfortunately I ran a bit less than forty-five minutes like I intended, but that was okay, considering the circumstances!)
I guess this is common sense, but when you’re running from someone, something, or the dark, it really helps quicken your pace. Tuesday's incident reminded me of another time when I was running towards something, and it happened when I was studying abroad in Cambridge: while on an evening run I sort of made a wrong turn and got a little lost in the backs of the colleges there. It was pretty scary, but all I could do was keep running until I got somewhere familiar since I knew walking wasn’t going to get me there any faster. I did find my way home, and in doing so I ended up tacking on twenty-minutes to my work-out. Phew!
I’m determined to increase my speed over the next few months, especially after this half marathon. I won’t be going for any more pushing-twilight runs in the near future, since they’re pretty creepy, but what I’ve learned just might help my mindset as I continue to train for my big day . . . What's one of the secrets to speed? Run with purpose.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
double digits
Jogging is very beneficial. It's good for your legs and your feet. It's also very good for the ground. It makes it feel needed.
--Charles Schulz, Peanuts
On Saturday, I did something I never imagined I was capable of doing: I ran for ten miles. Straight. (Well, okay, I actually took a couple water breaks and had to wait at some stoplights, but other than that, I ran the whole way!) I did it in two five-mile loops around the neighborhood, which included one of my favorite roads to run down, Thatcher Avenue. I recently discovered this road while logging miles in training for my first half marathon in October. It’s a calm, tree-lined stretch of pavement in front of beautiful houses just on the edge of River Forest, and I often encounter fellow runners while I’m making my way down the sidewalk. The path ends at Division Street, where I usually hang a right (you can’t turn left, technically) and then pass by the campuses of Dominican University and Concordia. Then comes a park just across the way from the church I enjoy attending, which is a marker for my favored water/restroom stop, and then it’s back down Division towards the architecturally stunning homes of Oak Park. I feel blessed to live in such a nice area to run.
I’ve read that breaking the double-digit mileage barrier is a momentous occasion in the life of a runner, and I’m writing about it this evening to say that, yes, actually, it is. At least, it felt that way to me! I was so proud to be done, because it was hard! I knew this day was coming, but I was a little anxious about it since I'd never ran that far before and the weekend prior to this one, I had to break up my nine-mile run on Saturday due to fatigue. That Saturday, I was actually feeling pretty bad somewhere around mile seven—but I just pushed through because I thought to myself, “Well, if you don’t do this now, what are you going to do on race day?” That’s what’s kept me going throughout this entire journey—the drive to succeed, to finish, and to do it strong.
Training for my upcoming debut in the world of half marathons has been difficult, but incredibly rewarding. There have definitely been some bumps along the way, including a couple repeat offenses to my body (wholly my fault) during which I went for long runs when I was clearly in no condition to be running. (I paid for it later, but I’ll spare you the details.) I was stubborn, and I didn’t listen to my body. And I had another scare about halfway through training when my left hip issues from cross country days of old came back to haunt me. I was pretty miserable when it started feeling sore again, I had just gotten to the point where I was feeling really solid about my training. The pain sort of when away, but I haven't been to PT, which my doctor recommends, yet. (My first appointment is this week.)
So back to double digits . . . After I finished my run on Saturday, I felt exhausted, but as though something had changed. As I lay on my yoga mat, drenched in sweat, stretching my hip, and worrying that I was never going to move again (it had already been fifteen minutes on that mat, and I thought that was kind of pushing it), I felt incredibly empowered. It is amazing what your body can do, when you put your mind to it. When I clocked in my average pace for my run using mapmyrun.com’s workout calculator, I came in at 9:20 average miles, which is great, for me! I couldn’t even believe it, and I was so proud I had held to that pace (on average). After I got over my initial tiredness, I felt really alive and energized, and I was starving. I pretty much felt that way the whole day, too (that was great, except for the part where I was a bottomless pit!). All day, I felt in awe of my body, and so fortunate and thankful for God’s gift of good health and physicality.
Ever since I started training for this run, I finally felt that I could call myself a runner. Prior to this training program, I was running--along with other activities--to stay fit, usually on a weekly basis. For some reason, perhaps it was the ambitious undertaking in mileage or sticking to a consistent training program, now naming myself a runner finally seems to fit. I’ve always loved to run, but I find that now I look forward to it and feel empty without it, in a way I never did before. After the half marathon is up, I’ve decided to start a speed training program, and I can’t wait to see where it takes me!
I think taking on new challenges and then seeking to achieve those goals is perhaps one of the most meaningful journeys in life. Whether the outcome is success or failure, I believe that the path in and of itself is valuable; and my case, I’ve grown every step of the way. Has there been a time in your life when you committed to a big goal, and your journey towards achievement left a lasting impact? Is there something in your life that you could work towards? Don’t hold back. Dive in. You might just surprise yourself with what you can achieve.
--Charles Schulz, Peanuts
On Saturday, I did something I never imagined I was capable of doing: I ran for ten miles. Straight. (Well, okay, I actually took a couple water breaks and had to wait at some stoplights, but other than that, I ran the whole way!) I did it in two five-mile loops around the neighborhood, which included one of my favorite roads to run down, Thatcher Avenue. I recently discovered this road while logging miles in training for my first half marathon in October. It’s a calm, tree-lined stretch of pavement in front of beautiful houses just on the edge of River Forest, and I often encounter fellow runners while I’m making my way down the sidewalk. The path ends at Division Street, where I usually hang a right (you can’t turn left, technically) and then pass by the campuses of Dominican University and Concordia. Then comes a park just across the way from the church I enjoy attending, which is a marker for my favored water/restroom stop, and then it’s back down Division towards the architecturally stunning homes of Oak Park. I feel blessed to live in such a nice area to run.
I’ve read that breaking the double-digit mileage barrier is a momentous occasion in the life of a runner, and I’m writing about it this evening to say that, yes, actually, it is. At least, it felt that way to me! I was so proud to be done, because it was hard! I knew this day was coming, but I was a little anxious about it since I'd never ran that far before and the weekend prior to this one, I had to break up my nine-mile run on Saturday due to fatigue. That Saturday, I was actually feeling pretty bad somewhere around mile seven—but I just pushed through because I thought to myself, “Well, if you don’t do this now, what are you going to do on race day?” That’s what’s kept me going throughout this entire journey—the drive to succeed, to finish, and to do it strong.
Training for my upcoming debut in the world of half marathons has been difficult, but incredibly rewarding. There have definitely been some bumps along the way, including a couple repeat offenses to my body (wholly my fault) during which I went for long runs when I was clearly in no condition to be running. (I paid for it later, but I’ll spare you the details.) I was stubborn, and I didn’t listen to my body. And I had another scare about halfway through training when my left hip issues from cross country days of old came back to haunt me. I was pretty miserable when it started feeling sore again, I had just gotten to the point where I was feeling really solid about my training. The pain sort of when away, but I haven't been to PT, which my doctor recommends, yet. (My first appointment is this week.)
So back to double digits . . . After I finished my run on Saturday, I felt exhausted, but as though something had changed. As I lay on my yoga mat, drenched in sweat, stretching my hip, and worrying that I was never going to move again (it had already been fifteen minutes on that mat, and I thought that was kind of pushing it), I felt incredibly empowered. It is amazing what your body can do, when you put your mind to it. When I clocked in my average pace for my run using mapmyrun.com’s workout calculator, I came in at 9:20 average miles, which is great, for me! I couldn’t even believe it, and I was so proud I had held to that pace (on average). After I got over my initial tiredness, I felt really alive and energized, and I was starving. I pretty much felt that way the whole day, too (that was great, except for the part where I was a bottomless pit!). All day, I felt in awe of my body, and so fortunate and thankful for God’s gift of good health and physicality.
Ever since I started training for this run, I finally felt that I could call myself a runner. Prior to this training program, I was running--along with other activities--to stay fit, usually on a weekly basis. For some reason, perhaps it was the ambitious undertaking in mileage or sticking to a consistent training program, now naming myself a runner finally seems to fit. I’ve always loved to run, but I find that now I look forward to it and feel empty without it, in a way I never did before. After the half marathon is up, I’ve decided to start a speed training program, and I can’t wait to see where it takes me!
I think taking on new challenges and then seeking to achieve those goals is perhaps one of the most meaningful journeys in life. Whether the outcome is success or failure, I believe that the path in and of itself is valuable; and my case, I’ve grown every step of the way. Has there been a time in your life when you committed to a big goal, and your journey towards achievement left a lasting impact? Is there something in your life that you could work towards? Don’t hold back. Dive in. You might just surprise yourself with what you can achieve.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
old school
Some weeks ago, my mom and I found ourselves riffling through some old report cards and papers of mine from way back when (I'm talking my elementary era, which was in the late early nineties). Exactly why we were up to our arms in worksheets and handwriting samples (both mine and my brother’s) escapes me, but it was spontaneous and fun, and that experience really impacted me. For a moment, I had a glance of what it might be like to be a parent one day, watching my own child grow and learn. My mom’s still proud of my work samples from years past: “Look at how detailed that old drawing was!” “Can you believe you wrote this in fifth grade?” she remarked.
I have to admit, revisiting some of those old papers and projects was sort of embarrassing, especially samples of my earliest writings, including a cheesy poem I once wrote for one of the pastors at my church (all the stanzas rhymed, but sometimes awkwardly so!). Yet some of my work surprised me—it wasn’t too bad. In fact, it was kind of good—like this poem I found in a collection of nature writing I had to create for maybe a third grade project and a short story I wrote in fifth grade that eventually ended up winning a school contest.
Why don’t I write like that anymore? I mused to myself. And to be honest, I’m still wrestling with the question. I’m not sure when it happened that I stopped working on creative fiction and transitioned into the world of nonfiction writing, which is certainly exciting, but it seems as though I’ve been ignoring this other voice, this hungry creative impulse that longs to make something out of nothing. Writer Brenda Ueland believes the desire to create and express are a key signifier of our humanity: “writing (is) this: an impulse to share with other people a feeling or truth” (If You Want to Write 21) one has. I like that idea, and I think it rings pretty true for me.
Since my walk down memory lane, I’ve been thinking a lot about my writing, and how I can get better about doing it for myself and to share with others—not at my day job, that doesn’t count—on a regular basis. I’ve decided two things: First, I’m going to start posting more frequently. In order to do so, I’m not just writing about books anymore because as much as I enjoy that, I think this narrow scope was restricting my creative juices. Although I read often, what was happening was I kept finishing books, setting them aside to post on, and then putting off the post, as if it were a dreaded high school English assignment, even though I really like writing about books.
My other epiphany was short and sweet: whatever I do in life, I always want to be writing. I’ve been struggling a lot with figuring out my career ambitions lately, because although I enjoy my current job, I'm not necessarily passionate about it. I have yet to find a career path I’m ready to throw my heart into—a vocation.
This is my second attempt at getting this blog going—I’ll still be writing on stories, as I had originally intended, but I'll also write on the other ways that I nourish my mind, body, and soul. In short, my new focus will be journeys, which I think is an appropriate term to use as an umbrella for all of my interests. Right now I feel like a phony at this blogging thing, but maybe that’s because I haven’t made a serious commitment to posting on a regular basis. So. From now on, I’ll be commenting more frequently, and I'll try and remember what my mom said to me while we were looking at those “vintage” papers, as a means of moral support, “I always knew you’d be a writer, Erin.” Thanks mom! I hope this comes true.
I have to admit, revisiting some of those old papers and projects was sort of embarrassing, especially samples of my earliest writings, including a cheesy poem I once wrote for one of the pastors at my church (all the stanzas rhymed, but sometimes awkwardly so!). Yet some of my work surprised me—it wasn’t too bad. In fact, it was kind of good—like this poem I found in a collection of nature writing I had to create for maybe a third grade project and a short story I wrote in fifth grade that eventually ended up winning a school contest.
Why don’t I write like that anymore? I mused to myself. And to be honest, I’m still wrestling with the question. I’m not sure when it happened that I stopped working on creative fiction and transitioned into the world of nonfiction writing, which is certainly exciting, but it seems as though I’ve been ignoring this other voice, this hungry creative impulse that longs to make something out of nothing. Writer Brenda Ueland believes the desire to create and express are a key signifier of our humanity: “writing (is) this: an impulse to share with other people a feeling or truth” (If You Want to Write 21) one has. I like that idea, and I think it rings pretty true for me.
Since my walk down memory lane, I’ve been thinking a lot about my writing, and how I can get better about doing it for myself and to share with others—not at my day job, that doesn’t count—on a regular basis. I’ve decided two things: First, I’m going to start posting more frequently. In order to do so, I’m not just writing about books anymore because as much as I enjoy that, I think this narrow scope was restricting my creative juices. Although I read often, what was happening was I kept finishing books, setting them aside to post on, and then putting off the post, as if it were a dreaded high school English assignment, even though I really like writing about books.
My other epiphany was short and sweet: whatever I do in life, I always want to be writing. I’ve been struggling a lot with figuring out my career ambitions lately, because although I enjoy my current job, I'm not necessarily passionate about it. I have yet to find a career path I’m ready to throw my heart into—a vocation.
This is my second attempt at getting this blog going—I’ll still be writing on stories, as I had originally intended, but I'll also write on the other ways that I nourish my mind, body, and soul. In short, my new focus will be journeys, which I think is an appropriate term to use as an umbrella for all of my interests. Right now I feel like a phony at this blogging thing, but maybe that’s because I haven’t made a serious commitment to posting on a regular basis. So. From now on, I’ll be commenting more frequently, and I'll try and remember what my mom said to me while we were looking at those “vintage” papers, as a means of moral support, “I always knew you’d be a writer, Erin.” Thanks mom! I hope this comes true.
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