I really need to start blogging immediately after a good run. Some people say that running clears their heads, but for me it unleashes a flood of realizations- and really well-worded ones, at that. Of course, a half-hour later I can't remember them (at least not in the poetic form in which I originally conceived them). I will try, however, to incorporate what thoughts remain from my euphoric state into this update on my half-marathon training.
First of all, it (half-marathon training, that is) is in full-swing. After getting off to a slow start in late June , I realized in mid-July that I needed an established training schedule to which I could hold myself accountable. A true goodie-two-shoes, I work best when other people are telling me what to do. So I decided to follow Hal Higdon's Novice 2 half-marathon training program, with some adjustments since my training(/psychoanalyzing/epiphany-having) partner, Tara, created her own schedule to accommodate her more varied fitness interests. Since adopting that schedule, I think I have only skipped one run (as opposed to skipping one or two runs per week when I thought I was a bad-ass and could "run when I felt like it").
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| I am following this training program for my weekly runs. My running partner and I modified the long runs a bit. As long as you have a basic plan, you can make small modifications here and there if it'll help you stick to the plan. |
On the weekends, Tara and I have been getting together for our long runs whenever possible. We decided that we wanted to make those runs fun experiences. So far we have run at a lovely park with trails that loop around a lake and the Back Bay Trail in Newport Beach (followed by kayaking, after which I consumed about a gazillion calories guilt free!!). We've been trying a run-walk approach, something that was difficult for me to consider at first, but makes the runs so much more enjoyable and really doesn't slow me down because I can run harder during the run intervals. The key is to set intervals in advance and take the breaks even if you feel like you don't need them; this prevents you from "hitting the wall" and reserves enough energy to really push, and even skip your breaks if you want, at the end of the race.
Last weekend I skipped my long run in favor of running a 5k in my hometown. There was a 5k on my training schedule for next weekend, but I figured it wouldn't be a big deal to move it up a week; this was especially appealing because 1) It meant visiting my hometown and seeing my adopted Tehachapi family, the Schwartzes, on Mountain Festival weekend, the most lively weekend a tiny mountain community can sustain, and 2) Instead of having to leave with over an hour of extra time to accommodate the nightmarish parking situation borne out of 5,000 people trying arrive at the same place at the same time for a race in LA, I got to park literally across the street from the starting line and run familiar streets with less than 200 other runners.
I've been running fairly consistently for about 7 months, and it's been paying off. Though I'm still no elite runner, I am certainly running faster than I ever have. Starting with my 5k back in March, I have been slowly but consistently gaining speed. However, going into last Saturday's race, that 5k was still my PR, and I really didn't anticipate that I would break it, partly because of the elevation (over a 4,000 foot difference), partly because I was running alone, and partly because I'm always afraid when I've been running a lot that I'll suffer from fatigue and be slowed down. Well, none of those things ended up making a difference- I shattered my PR by a minute and a half! As a side-note, I like to imagine how this sounds to non-runners (having been one in the not-so-distanct past). A minute and a half doesn't seem like anything significant, but for a short distance like a 5k (3.1 miles) it means shaving 30 seconds off of each mile, which is no easy feat (no pun intended?).
I have kind of been reliving the experience of last weekend's 5k over and over in my head. It was emotionally and psychologically significant because it was my first time doing something that for me has been life-changingly important, running, in my hometown. I ran by old junior high and high school, up the street where I used to go to church with a childhood friend, past the little 4-room movie theater I used to hang out at when I was a kid and the Veteran's Hall where I got my driver's license when the DMV came out to Tehachapi once a week, and finally to City Park, the heart of Tehachapi as I remember it, where I spent countless hours of my childhood meandering to stands at the Mountain Festival, playing on the playground, and running around on the gazebo.
At the moment that I hit the proverbial wall (the point at which you want to just stop and be able to breathe like a normal person and not be in incredible discomfort, and you have to summon every ounce of mental and physical strength to push forward), I was running toward my old junior high school. It was literally looming directly in front of me. I wanted to slow down, really slow down, but then I thought about being in P.E. at that school, when I would have just given and walked; in fact, I probably wouldn't have started running to begin with. I thought about how I had this mental handicap back then that made me think that I couldn't run, couldn't be fit, and how I looked at the athletic girls in my class and secretly wished I could be more like them. And I kept running. I put my head down, began a chorus of "Push It" by Salt-N-Pepa in my head, and I rounded that corner right in front of my old junior high.
And then I kept going. Rounded another corner and saw the finish line with it's flashing timer. I was not happy with what I saw. Hard as I had pushed myself, that timer was telling me I was already two and a half minutes behind my PR. It would've been enough to make me give up, except my blessed memory stepped in to say that, no, that wasn't my time, because the race organizers had staggered the 5k and 10k runners by five minutes, meaning that my time was actually two and a half minutes faster than my PR. That was all it took. Salt-N-Pepa kept pushin' it in my head and I kept pushin' it with my legs for a minute that felt like an eternity, and I crossed that finish line with a new record. I placed second in my age group, which was not the most significant accomplishment given how small the race was and the huge gap between the first place finisher's time and mine (which would have easily been filled by my friend Audra if she wasn't 9 months pregnant!). Still, it was nice to be recognized for an athletic accomplishment at the awards ceremony, a novelty only a small town race could provide.
So that's it- the story so far. I still have the longest runs I have ever completed and a 10k ahead of me, but if the rest of the journey is a lot like what it's been so far, then it'll be bittersweet when it's over. Thanks for reading :-)
-Melissa
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