Low point

This is the low point. I'm sleepy tired, tired of fitting in all the weekday morning runs, and weighed down by the creeping doubts about my progress and preparation. This low point, I know, is a coping mechanism, the way I have always dealt with everything big hanging up in my sites. After an enthusiastic, prompt, proactive, all-in start, after I determinedly hang in there through the middle, I gulp approaching the last real push. I tell myself that I can't swim for real because I can't put my face in the water or I can't apply because there were those extra hours that I should have been studying for the test. I'm not going to do it, I'm going to choke, I'm going to fall short, and worst of all, nobody believes me that this will be the time that I just can't do it.

And then I rally. Every damn time. I know I need to just drop the holding-it-all-together for a brief bit first. Well, Saturday is 20 miles, so it is time for me to mentally rally. Starting it off by collecting a few of my favorite marathon quotes because somewhere after music stops holding my attention, saying a few phrases over and over in my head helps.

Because this is what I tell myself at least once a Saturday:

"It is difficult to train for a marathon; but it is even more difficult to not be able to train for a marathon." -Aaron Douglas Trimble

Because I feel like a kid playing when I'm doing it right, and creative and powerful when at my best:

"There are as many reasons for running as there are days in the year, years in my life. But mostly I run because I am an animal and a child, an artist and a saint. So, too, are you. Find your own play, your own self-renewing compulsion, and you will become the person you are meant to be." - George Sheehan

Because I break it all down this way:

"I tell our runners to divide the race into thirds. Run the first part with your head, the middle part with your personality, and the last part with your heart."- Mike Fanelli

Because my life is no longer a line of obvious next steps, and I'm in search of those that are worthy:

"The race, the marathon, is a renewal of belief in one’s self and the ultimate expression of confidence that you have created the foundation that enables you to go the distance. " - Dolores E. Cross

Because this is how I feel setting my alarm clock, but I like the call and response vibe here:

"Running is a big question mark that’s there each and every day. It asks you, ‘Are you going to be a wimp or are you going to be strong today?'" - Peter Maher

Because reasoning with myself can (and should) only go so far:

"Doubt can only be removed by action." – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Because I want to live this:

"The difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank." -George Sheehan

Drizzle

Woke up tiiiiired at 7 and really really did not want to get dressed to run in the rain. By the time I stumbled outside, it was barely drizzling but very humid. I felt pretty good after twenty minutes and completed a 4 point something mile loop. The long sleeve shirt, selected in my still cool from yesterday's AC apartment, was tied around my waist after only a few blocks. Big drops from the trees splatted on my shoulder, ran down my back and woke me up. Almost as gentle as my alarm, the Rooster setting on my phone, chosen for the first and last time to wake me this morning. It makes waking up at that hour even more unnatural.

The leftover tree rain felt refreshing in the leftover sticky summer morning weather. Every time it comes back, I am grateful that the run is in November. There was an elevator inspector in my lobby this morning when I returned to the building, and I think he was not super excited that such a sweaty mess got into the elevator with him. I thought it would only be more awkward to apologize, but sometimes I wish for a back entrance to my apartment, far from the eyes of the suited or well dressed toddlers in fancy strollers- or anybody else.

First Giving Spotlight

Forty days 'til the marathon and hopefully far fewer of rain. I need to spend the next couple mornings running in it, but it looks like the weekend will be clear for the biggest run ever. Look at me looking on the bright side this morning...

Also, take a look-- I'm featured this week in the First Giving Spotlight.

Worst run ever

Nausea by mile 0.5. I spent the next 13.5 miles half walking, half running incredibly slowly, working hard to suppress my gag reflex each time I passed anything gross looking or smelling. Like sweaty, hairy backs.

I woke up this morning tired and not in the mood to run. My shins were tight, so I had to start slowly, and my legs were still worn out from the 18 miler. I was overworked and tired all week, and on top of that (and because of it), I missed two short runs during the week, which makes me second guess how I'll do when the weekend rolls around. All of this goes to explain why after feeling craptastic in the very beginning, I completed the mileage. I was afraid that I was making up excuses to tell to myself to get out of it. Turns out, not so much.

This morning's run was much much harder than the 18 I did last weekend. Every minute was painful, and none of it was very satisfying.

The good news: I didn't fall behind on the schedule; I did the complete mileage. Also, I got to see a couple of elliptical bikes. And it's over.

I'm going to need to seriously psych myself up for 20.

Harlem Hill

Tight shins again this morning, so I jogged very slowly for fifteen minutes to warm up. No problems after that, except that it felt like someone was pulling my feet back to the ground each time I lifted them. My legs didn't even feel very tired or sore; they just felt subject to a whole lot of mega gravity. It's a good thing Saturday will be 14 again. My legs are going to take longer to recover than after the last long one.

I circled the top of the park, which I do rarely. I'm not sure why I don't turn to go up there often. I don't mind the hills- they're really not bad, and they're shaded by big leafy trees and boulders. Harlem Hill adds some variety, and I like running by the drained pool. They've always seemed full of potential to me, and I think about rolling around inside on a skateboard or roller blades. Everything on wheels looked good this morning, easy and efficient.

With the winding around under the pool, crossing the top of the park is deceptively longer than it seems. I was out for an hour this morning. I hope the slow, longer "short run" helps keep me loose and speeds up recovery from the weekend.

Antsy pants

I need to rest after a long run, but after a while, I get seriously antsy pants. Broke out the bikes to do a big loop around the park. It wasn't much of a real workout, but it got the muscles warm and moving, and got some serious perfectly fall temp-ed wind on my face. I was flying around the park. There's nothing like running it a few dozen times to make my biking feel so speedy.

The hardest hill, which used to be the kind of hard that made me think I'd have to get up and walk it, is now nothing to think twice about. I didn't whine and I wasn't winded.

I'm so looking forward to more perfect fall weather and more of the fallen, trampled leaves smell.

Here's the schedule of Saturday long runs and where I am:

7/31 -10
8/7 - 12
8/14 - 10
8/21 - 14
8/28 - 12
9/4 - 16 (no class)
9/11 - 14
9/18 - 18
9/25 - 14
10/2 - 20 (Grete's + 7)
10/9 - 13.1
10/16 - 20
10/23 - 14
10/30 - 8 (on course)
11/7 - 26.2

18!

The hardest part of the 18 mile run was holding myself together every time I saw a mouse.  It must be shit-we're-running-out-of-time-before-the-cold-comes;-quick,-scamper-about-and-build-a-nest! time for them. And apparently all the great nest building material is across the path from the ideal home site location. For the right location, Manhattan real estate is worth running around for.

Unfortunately, in the exact spot I saw a mouse at the base of the reservoir alive, I then saw him smushed into the asphalt on the next go-round. I squirm thinking about it, which is what I've been doing every time I've seen a squirrel this weekend.

Anyway, the running on the run went down just fine. All the slow people were missing. My guess is that they decided on Tuesday (the workout I never am able to go to) to do an alternate, and far more interesting than park loops, route. So that left me alone to run from Columbus Circle up the west side to the reservoir, around the extended bridle train reservoir loop (which cuts around at 102nd Street and totals 2.5 miles), and then, um, that again another five(!) times, and back down the west side.  I reached the end, after following the route laid out exactly, to see that my gps watch said I had only run 17.79 miles. Nobody cared about the exact mileage, but I would like the world to know that I did not peel off to get a finish line drink or walk or stretch. I ran another long .21 miles, exactly. I was hoping the marathon gods would see and reward me on race day.

I enjoyed the alone time. Had tight shins at the start, so I started out at a glacial pace. Then, after warming up, I ran 8 minutes and walked 1 for the remainder of the time. I ran the second half faster than the first, which is what I should be doing, but is incredibly hard to pace, and ran the last mile a couple minutes per mile faster than the overall pace.

This run reinforced for me that I've come a long way toward building up the necessary endurance, and the rest is mental. For me, that means staying in the moment and not letting my mind stray to how much longer or farther I have to (or worse, how I'll feel farther along). And I've gotten good at the mental part. I break everything down into stages to mix things up. One minute of walking after 8 running. One hour until a real snack.  One and a half hours until Gatorade Formula 1 (so much more powerful than the regular kind, but should only be taken when you're prepared to sustain the sugar boost until the end). Half way through, the ipod comes out. Once through a playlist and then, and only then, can I repeat a song. Every other walk break, I drink, and once I'm into the Gatorade 1, I drink two sips of that to one of water. I don't think that getting any of this done precisely does anything other than keep my mind occupied remembering where I am on the rules, inject a little variety into one step in front of the other ad infinitum, and, most importantly, giving me faith in my own formula to finish. It's all one big special dribble before a free throw.

Bikers use loud voices

Biking buddies don't chat, really; they yell. I've been there and I get it, the wind whips by your mouth and your ears, the distance between you and buddy changes as you maneuver around roller bladers, strollers, runners, morning power walkers, very small confused looking dogs straining their little necks up and back to self-orient, the parent and child sharing a scooter, and tourists who wait awkwardly in groups at the crosswalk unable to figure out why all of the aforementioned fail to observe the signal awarding them right of way. Because you're slow. And we're busy and important in our doing something, and you need to figure out how to bolt across during the breaks in traffic.

But to the (only relatively) stationary runner, with less of that pesky whipping wind, being passed, the conversation snippets come in very loud and very- I imagine- unintentionally clear.

"I said 'man, throw out a number and we'll consider it' and then we slammed him!"

"Because you can't ever ever say 'spider' to me in bed."

"Bird watching is so weird..."

I mentally connect the dots, filling in just about everything. I've got time to kill and little new scenery, as my short runs are, like today, fifty-ish minutes.

Legs feel good still- and stronger.  18 sounds like the biggest number ever. Way bigger than the cigarettes I never bought or the single lottery ticket I did.

Too sleepy

The temperature has dropped. The air conditioning, left on in the bedroom, chilled me last night, and the blankets were stolen. I woke up sleepy enough that I decided not to run.

And then I remembered that I had to. It was fear that falling behind during the week would make 18 all that much harder that got me out of my sweatshirt, out of bed and out the door.

My first deep breath outside was a relief; cool and dewy and in a breeze. I knew I'd be okay for the next 45 minutes, and I was. I was so glad that I brought my phone and was able (to try) to capture the rays shooting through the trees and the fog. They looked tangible and thick. You had to be there, I suppose, and if staying in bed was off limits this morning, I'm really glad I was.

Step down to 14 and more quinoa!

Saturday was a step down to 14 miles. I stayed with my group and focused my energy on continuous chatting around four laps of the reservoir plus bridle trail loop. Everyone found it difficult to mentally deal with the fact we had to make circle after circle, and over ground we've covered too many times already. This is where getting better at just staying in the moment is paying off. I made myself care acutely about everything that was said from the black and blue toenail war stories (a conversation to which I luckily have nothing to add) to what the men were likely doing at home (ESPN in anticipation of Sunday football, we all thought). Made it easier that I genuinely enjoy the group of women I've been running with.  Even if they laugh at my Nutrigrain bars as they whip out their Gu.

My joints felt far less pounding on the path of dirt and gravel, and I'm glad my body got this break before next week's 18 miler.  Over the run, I kicked up so much dirt that I ended up with a charcoal grey band of bridle trail above my sock line that took quite a bit of scrubbing to remove. After the shower, I crashed. I actually felt really good running, but I just fell too far behind on quality sleep over the week, and that deficit, coupled with exertion and too few calories, made me crash. Crash into a PJ-ed pile of blah for, um, the entire day.

Would love to say I woke up this morning feeling great, but I just kind of felt eh. My legs felt fine, but a migraine has been creeping up on me all day. Ah, well, at least I got the big run in.

And I took drugs, so even though I am not happy with my head, I made some healthy food to kick off the week. It's red quinoa, scallions, toasted almond slices, corn, salt and pepper, and parmesan shavings on top. And it's good.

Google image searching begins

Guess who's found an incredibly efficient mental break at work tool? And is gonna share.

These pictures get me all excited about the people who will be speeding by me and the scenery that I anticipate will have me thinking damn, good move, Kate, New York City is the place to do this.

In other news: today was cross training on the elliptical. The end. And yes, it was exactly that boring.

Just realized...

... in two months from now, I'll be done (and sore).

Bored to run

Not into it at all this morning. Not the 7am alarm, the leaving of the covers, the finding clean workout clothes, splashing cold water on my face, nor the standing at the island in the middle of Park Avenue waiting for the "locating satellite" bar display to hit the end to indicate I'd been GPS'd through the clouds.

This is the other side of the wow-I-just-ran-___- many-miles! high. The little training runs can be boring, and boring is harder to get through when getting through it isn't passive at all and I'm tired.

I thought training might end up being miserable, and this is nowhere close. Every week there's always one day that just feels like a chore, and today was it.

Tuesday tempo

I finally got a good (if short) tempo run in, but it was to count for Tuesday rather than really on it. I got back to the city yesterday evening at about seven and was out on Park Avenue by 7:45. Since I DO NOT RUN IN THE DARK WHERE I AM NOT IN EYE/EAR SHOT OF MANY NON-SCARY PEOPLE (loved ones, please reread the subtley highlighted portion), I kept to Park, running past the Armory, 324 doormen, and the Ferrari dealership (in case anyone was wondering, the location of choice for 60-70 year old male European tourists and their wives, if only to stand in the dark and peer in the windows) to Grand Central and back.

Nothing hurt or was especially sore from Saturday's outing. Between the sleep, rest day and the cool temp, I was able to run- not jog, really run, and enjoy it. The second best part: an extra hour of sleep this morning.

Stop, drop and run

I approached Saturday's 16 mile groupless run with a lot of trepidation. I focused on controlling what I could control, which ended up being mostly feeding and watering myself. A big whole wheat pasta dinner and only a single stolen sip of diet coke, and then a real breakfast of oatmeal, a good amount of water and a half cup of coffee.

A good amount of water ended up being not such a good amount of water. Five minutes in and three minutes into some "woods," I realized I had over-hydrated or under-waited before taking off. "Um, this is kind of private, right?"

Stop, drop and run.

Five minutes later:

"Now, this is totally private. Private enough."
"It's not private, it's a golf course! Are you crazy?!"
"Damn. I shouldn't have worn such bright shorts. How 'bout here?"
"Dude, are you crazy?"
"Talk to me when you've got to live with your bladder situation for another 14 miles."

Stop, drop and run.

All went smoothly from there. I chugged along, keeping to the slow but regular pace I set in the beginning. I did an excellent job of keeping my mind off the total distance of the day, the mileage left in the run and how much longer a marathon will be. I'm fine in the moment, I feel good in this moment, I'll have lots of moments that feel fine, just keep it up.

"Nutrigrain!" with the urgency of a surgeon calling for a scalpel! resulted in bar in moving hand within thirty seconds. My crew also rode ahead to check out the turns, calling them out to give warning, and allowing me to zone out and just follow rather than paying attention to to the route. I felt the conservation of mental and emotional energy from getting to be a follower. Spirits were buoyed each and every time I heard proud, strong, amazing, or great. Double points for actually sounding impressed. And the trees, golf courses, and estates kept my eyes busy and the air smelling like warmed grass.

By 14 miles, the furthest I had run before Saturday, I was working harder, but my form never suffered and I was able to pick up the pace for faster finish in the last quarter mile. A beautiful day, fun road crew and feeling the payoff of endurance training meant a good mood lasted throughout. I'm actually excited to go for 18 (after a down week, of course).

Crappy run

After a few days of feeling migrainey and generally icky, going to bed in full sweats (that's the grubby clothes and the perspiration) under down, I woke up at 7 to run. If I hadn't already skipped two days, I would have said to hell with it, but I couldn't trash the whole week. I've got to be able to physically (and mentally) get it together to run 16 miles this  weekend. Undermining either getting it togetherness is the last thing I want to do.

And just what I needed- still, hot, humid air and strong sun. Why, oh why am I doing this?! Suck it up. Another four miles down.

Our coach sent around an email last week in answer to questions for several of my group members about missing workouts. It can all be distilled into this: if you miss a day or two or a few, forget it those days and follow the program moving forward; if you miss more than that, pick up where you left off (and that means you're behind, which is apparently 'built-in' to our schedule). I am not good at being behind. Being behind makes me want to give up. I do better being ahead; then I just want to widen my margin of victory. Whatever that says about a few things I might want to work on, it's my inner workings, so, fine. I'm playing my keep-psyched-about-this mind games within those bounds.

As I do the 16 mile run this weekend on Long Island with my bike along caddy staff, the staffer better have some "you are the best runner ever"s and "oh yeah, the first ten miles are much harder than the last six"s and "you look great!"s to throw at me. In marathon training, there is no room for 'just being honest'.