Week in Review

90 miles
2 doubles
2 days in DC
15 mile long run
5 AFDs

My second 90-mile week is in the books, and I'm surprisingly no worse for the wear. That's not to say I enjoyed every minute of it, but I'm certainly growing stronger and more confident with every passing day. It's nice to head out the door for a 12-mile run and not think much of it. Though the weather is oppressive, I honestly don't think about it at all except during workouts. On every other day it's just a fact of life, something that doesn't even factor into my consciousness. To constantly dwell on it would be a pointless waste of mental energy.

That said, the weather conditions I'm about to encounter will surely make North Carolina seem tame in comparison. I fly to Texas tomorrow afternoon to spend four days in Dallas and Austin before returning home late Thursday night. My mileage will likely suffer, due more to the travel and work obligations than the weather, and I'm hoping against hope that I'll return home feeling fresh and light for Saturday night's Beat the Heat as opposed to heat-addled and exhausted. We'll see.

Without question, the best part of the past few weeks' running has been exploring some new and/or rarely visited routes. Since the beginning of July I've logged some single-track miles within a relative stone's throw of my front door (Renaissance Park on Tyvola, a 10-minute drive, and Anne Springs Close in Fort Mill, just a few miles across the SC border), as well as a few solid outings in my hands-down favorite urban running setting, Washington DC. Anytime you can cover Capitol Hill, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the National Mall, Teddy Roosevelt's Island, Georgetown, the C&O Canal towpath and the Mt. Vernon Trail on foot is a win in my book (as is any route traversed with the incomparable hostess Ms. Jilane Rodgers). I may not be able to afford to permanently reside in the District, but I'll gladly take any opportunity to visit on behalf of Craft and Karhu.

Other notables for the week? A much-needed massage from Byran, a bitchin 4th of July BBQ (if passing out on the living room floor at 7pm isn't patriotic, then Jordan isn't a true American), storm chasing down I-85 and a narrowly missed copperhead blitzkrieg on the Davidson trails today (after which Allen may or may not have screamed like a little girl with little pigtails, despite the fact that I was apparently the one who narrowly escaped death). All in all, not much more a gal can ask for in a week's worth of training.

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McAlpine Death March

3 mile w/u
Target: 3 mile @17-low; 2 mile @11-low; 1 mile @5:30 all w/800m jog
Revised target: 3 mile @sub-18; 2 mile @ 11:30; 1 mile @sub-5:40
Re-revised target: Don't drop out; try to hang on to Spada
Actual: 17:37 (5:50, 5:50, 5:57); 11:52 (5:53, 5:59); 5:41
1 mile c/d
Total: 11 miles

I realize that reading about how brutal the weather is might be getting a little old. And I swear, I'm doing my best to not dwell on it in every single post. But today in particular merits an exception, so please humor me as I address it up front and then move on to the nitty gritty details. The facts themselves need little elaboration: upon finishing the workout, I consulted my personal weatherman (i.e., the iPhone) and learned that the temperature was 78 degrees, with 91% humidity and a dew point of 73. The temperature wasn't the issue. Rather, it was the stifling, sweltering, stagnant air that had me literally flinging sweat off my body in every direction less than two miles into the warmup jog. Around this time last year I posted a blog written by Paul's coach, Tim Budic, which succinctly argues why the dew point is the most reliable indicator of how weather affects performance. Similarly, a current LetsRun thread explains dew point and even offers one person's aptly titled "Misery Index," or a combination of the temperature and dew point. Peruse both of these useful links at your leisure, but just know that today's weather was bordering on dangerous.

Regardless, there was work to be done. As Jordan, Paul, Spada and I set off on our warmup jog we tried not to dwell on the weather, but nonetheless noted we'd be amending our ambitious prescribed paces in favor of survival. Spada and I decided to start out at 5:50 pace for the first three-mile segment, which I knew might prove difficult considering the conditions, but I was willing to give it a shot. For me personally, I knew the most important thing was not to lose contact with Spada or else I'd be left sputtering in no-man's land indefinitely.

The first mile, which began with a slight downhill from the three-mile marker on the trail, felt comfortable enough. By a mile and a half, however, my breathing began to noticeably labor, and despite passing through two miles at Spada's side I could tell he had more in the tank than me. He pulled ahead for the third mile, during which I made a conscious decision to back off or risk not finishing the workout. Even at that, I contemplated dropping out. After all, the interval finished at the Old Bell parking lot--how easy would it be to just call it a day and slink wearily back to the car??

But of course, we pressed on. The half mile recovery jog was over before we knew it, and within seconds of starting the second interval Spada had already dropped me. For the first mile I kept my eyes trained on his back, marveling with jealousy at the ease of his stride. It looked like he was barely jogging! I silently reminded myself to apologize to him after the workout for doing so little to help him run faster. A few minutes later, however, I noticed something strange: despite how much I was struggling and how much he appeared to be doing quite the opposite, the gap between us was almost imperceptibly narrowing. With each stride I gained another fraction of a meter, and by the time we reached 1.5 I'd pulled up alongside. He had towed me along for the first mile and a half, and now I would return the favor for the remaining 800 meters. Though this would be our slowest mile split of the day, it was also when we were working the hardest to fight through the cloying air and piercing sunlight to simply hold the workout together. We finished side by side, our breath ragged and gasping.

With only one hard mile to go, you'd think we would be elated. Instead, I again questioned my ability to continue. The only saving grace was knowing that Jordan had stashed a Nuun bottle at the start of the Footlocker course where we'd begin our final interval. If I could just take in a few precious sips, hopefully I'd be able to regulate my body temperature enough to finish strong. As Spada and I shuffled along beside each other, I voiced what I knew he was thinking: even if we barely broke six minutes for the mile--even if it was the hardest six-minute mile of our lives--we'd still be running under our goal marathon pace. For today, that would be enough. My spirits began to lift ever so slightly as I offered him encouraging words. Suddenly: disaster! Jordan had taken the water bottle! In hindsight, the action makes perfect sense; we weren't returning to that spot again, so if he didn't snag it on his way past then we might not get it back. In the moment, I was crestfallen. I literally asked Spada for an extra 30 seconds of rest to mentally regroup, which he didn't seem to mind allowing.

Maybe it was the extra recovery, or the knowledge that we were almost done, or the motivation of finally being able to match Spada stride for stride, but for whatever reason I felt surprisingly strong on the mile. After expecting to barely break six, I found myself passing through the halfway point comfortably on 5:40 pace. I kept the effort level high, but never straining, and was pleased to finish up with my fastest split of the day without going to the well. Considering that just minutes earlier I'd questioned even attempting the mile, it's hard to not look at that as a victory. Overall, though my splits were unremarkable, this workout actually ended up being a surprise confidence booster. If I can run below marathon pace in these conditions, I have to think that when the weather breaks--in, you know, three or four months--the same pace will feel like a breeze. A cool, dry, delightfully comfortable breeze.

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12x400 at JCSU

2.5 mile w/u + strides
Target: 12x400m @75 or faster w/400m jog
Actual: 12x400m w/200m jog
75, 75, 75, 79, 74, 74, 73, 73, 71, 74, 73, 72
3 mile c/d
Total: 10 miles

There are few prospects less appealing to me than waking up at 5:30am to almost immediately begin sprinting around the track. (For reference, I'd put it somewhere between, say, attending a Star Wars convention and sitting front row at a Justin Bieber concert.) Fortunately, knowing I'd be sharing the oval with Caitlin, Billy, Eric and even potentially the Paul and Spada show made dragging my body out of bed slightly more bearable. I'd gone to sleep thinking the plan was 16x400 with 60 seconds rest, which seemed daunting. I awoke to a text from Mark Hadley via Caitlin saying that the workout actually only called for 12 repeats at 75 seconds or faster with a 400 meter jog. While the idea of running fewer intervals was obviously welcomed with open arms (feet?), I knew that running faster would prove challenging. Despite that, I was also not thrilled about the longer rest; 400 meters might not seem like a lot, but when you're moving at a snail's pace between every interval it could potentially draw out the workout much longer than any of us would like. Fortunately upon arriving at Caitlin's I learned that she was on the same page, so we agreed to up the ante and try to hit the same splits with only half the rest. We're crazy like that.

All in all, the workout went quite well, especially considering my current mileage volume. A quick snapshot of the past seven days, beginning with last Wednesday, looks something like this: 12, 18 (14/4 double), 14 (9/5), 12 (w/workout), 12 (hilly trails), 12. Well-rested I am not. With that said, I was surprised to be able to lock into 75-second pace right out of the gate. It normally takes my old grandma legs three or four jolting laps to find the proper tempo, but today they snapped right into the pace. Except for the noticeable 79-second outlier for #4--during which I inadvertently chastised the boys for taking the first 100 out too fast, causing them to apply the brakes a bit too liberally for the remaining 300--every single interval was at or below target pace. (Speaking of outliers, that 71 for #9 accidentally happened after we took a few extra seconds of rest to guzzle down some precious agua. Guess it really perked us up.) Our 200-meter jog was consistently at 75-80 seconds, more than the minute I always took when cutting shapes under Simmons' tutelage but far less than the 2:00-2:30 that Mark had prescribed, and up until the last few intervals I felt like it was perfectly adequate. My underlying fatigue finally showed through on the 12th and final lap, when Caitlin and the boys ran away from me like I was standing still, but otherwise I couldn't really ask my body for more than it offered today. If I can make it through the next few weeks of high mileage, I just might end up pretty darn fit!

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Week in Review

90 miles
3 doubles
2 days in Charleston
5 runs with Jordan
5 AFDs

It wasn't easy, but I managed to hit my mileage goal despite having to seriously backload the week. My body is tired but strong, and I'm looking forward to challenging myself and pushing my limits even further in the coming weeks. Gotta just keep doing what I'm doing, one day at a time.

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McMullen Tempo With the Big Dogs

2 mile w/u + strides
Target: 8 mile tempo @6:00-5:50
Actual: 6 miles in 35:40, one mile jog (8-8:30?), one mile @5:47
2 mile c/d
Total: 12 miles

Originally I'd planned on joining Caitlin for her nine mile progression run on Friday, but after Thursday necessitated a 14 and 4 double I knew I needed an easy recovery day before cranking up the engines again. Fortunately the all-star trio of Paul, Spada and Mike Beigay were gracious enough to extend me an invite to their Saturday morning session, so with Jordan in tow I set off toward McMullen just as the sun was rising.

After an unexpectedly gorgeous day on Thursday, in which the weather gods mercifully offered low humidity and a tinge of crispness to the morning air, I was hoping against hope that Friday and Saturday would bring more of the same. Friday morning felt downright cool, albeit with slightly higher humidity, but I could tell as soon as I stepped outside this morning that we would get no such respite for today's workout. Oh well. Our warmup jog was easy and relaxed, and I took solace in the fact that I wasn't completely drenched by the time we returned to our cars. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. With a few final encouraging words we set off at a brisk pace along the dirt path, Paul leading the charge with the rest of us flanked in a "V" formation behind him. I tucked in and hoped to just get carried along.

To be honest, I never truly expected to be able to hang with them the entire way. Maybe some people (i.e., Jordan) would respond that with such a negative attitude I'd already sealed my fate before the workout even began. I knew that running with them for at least five miles was realistic, but the end result would depend on just how much they decided to drop the pace during the second half. I felt relatively comfortable at our four-mile U-turn, despite dropping a 5:50 for mile three, but once we started heading back the other way I could feel my effort level rising precipitously. Mile five was also 5:50 and my breathing was noticeably labored. Each time we hit a bend or slight incline in the trail I could feel myself losing contact with the group by another few meters. Jordan gamely held back, offering encouraging words and entreating me to stay focused, but I knew I was done. I made it to the sixth mile marker before coming to a stop and waving him ahead to catch the group.

After catching my breath for a few seconds, I slowly began to jog back. I was disappointed that I wasn't able to finish the workout, especially since this is my goal marathon pace come winter, but I also knew that the purpose of a tempo run is not to run yourself to exhaustion. As I approached the penultimate mile marker I decided I'd pick up the pace and try to bring it in with a sub-5:50 effort. If I hit the 800m mark slower than 3 minutes then I'd shut it down, but I passed the marker comfortably in 2:53 so I continued homeward. I finished with ragged breathing and heavy legs, but I was satisfied that I'd somewhat managed to salvage the workout.

Overall, I had a great time mixing it up out there with a different workout group. And it goes without saying that I'm thrilled to have Jordan back in action, not to mention the fact that he cruised through this tempo as though he'd never missed a beat. With the workout behind us and a holiday weekend ahead, it's time to relax and enjoy some much needed recovery!

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Good Old-Fashioned Southern Road Trip

3 mile w/u + strides
Target: 200m-300-400-500-600-700-800-700-600-500-400-300-200 w/60-90 sec. rest
Actual: Above, starting at 5:30 pace down to 5:15-5:10
2 mile c/d
Total: 9 miles


Charleston's Cooper River Bridge

After a few hectic weeks of work and travel, I was beyond excited to spend a few days relaxing with my parents and Jordan in Charleston, SC. Though Jordan frequently visits accounts there (and was actually in town the previous week), neither my parents nor myself have ever been. After receiving what turned out to be a fabulous hotel recommendation from a friend and a vague idea of some touristy things we wanted to do, our trip began to take shape. Once my parents touched down in Charlotte on Sunday afternoon we set off for our riverside peninsula destination.


Ma mere et mon pere

In short, though the trip was wonderful from almost every perspective, one area that proved less than pleasant was running. With lows barely bottoming out at 80 and highs cresting the mid-90s (with humidity percentages following suit in the inverse), finishing a run with shorts that looked as though I'd fallen into the Cooper River was pretty much the norm. On Monday morning's easy run with Jordan and my pops I didn't mind it so much. The pace and conversation flowed easily and we were able to steal a few patches of shade, plus it's hard to complain about the gorgeous view with the Battery to our right and the harbor to our left.


Enjoying some R&R on the pier near our hotel

Tuesday morning was a different story.

At Jordan's suggestion, we rose before the sun to venture across the bridge to Mt. Pleasant for a track workout. He's worked out once or twice before with Irv and his crew from On the Run, so we hoped to meet up with them for a few laps together around the oval. As we exited the car and eased our groggy legs into a long warmup jog, I remarked to Jordan that even at 6am the conditions were reminiscent of the sweltering 13.1 Chicago from several weeks ago. An auspicious portent it was not. Even though the workout Jordan had prescribed (read: made up during our jog) didn't sound terrible, my already sweat-soaked shirt indicated that it wouldn't much matter. With a burgeoning bad attitude rising quicker than the sun, I rather petulantly whined to Jordan that he should have to pull me along, just like old times. Though I'm pretty sure he hasn't done so much as a stride in the past few months, he agreed without hesitation. I had my old partner back in action and just in the nick of time. Within the first few intervals I could tell that my breathing was unusually labored and my heart rate quicker than normal. The hot, damp air seemed utterly devoid of oxygen as I struggled to gulp enough down in between intervals. After the first few I stopped clicking my watch and instead concentrated on not falling off Jordan's hip or, worse, dropping out. I overheard Jordan saying that the 800 was 2:40 and the second 400 was 75, but other than that I honestly don't know many splits. It's been a while since I felt quite so terrible during a workout, and that's saying something. It wasn't my finest hour, but thanks to JSK I got it done.

Though the workout conditions weren't ideal, our recovery protocol certainly was. The expansive whirlpool tub in our room and easy access to the hallway ice machine made a post-workout ice bath a no brainer. I replenished (possibly over-replenished) my lost calories with pumpkin french toast at breakfast at our hotel, the Vendue Inn, and a huge burger from Pawley's in Columbia on the drive home (as seen on Guy Fieri's "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives"). Not surprisingly, a few good meals proved to be a great way to cap off our trip and erase any lingering disappointment from my workout! I can't wait to travel to Charleston again--only maybe I'll wait until autumn next time.

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Week In Review

70-71 miles

2 doubles

4 days in CHI

3 AFDs (oops)

As promised, I enjoyed a relative down week of training. Though my mileage wasn't terribly low--and, in fact, would've been higher if I hadn't confessed to Jordan on Saturday afternoon that I was already at 65 miles, thus inciting him to relegate me to a measly five mile run on Sunday--there were really no workouts to speak of. True, I did do 16x1 min. on, 1 min. off with Caitlin at an ungodly early hour on Tuesday morning, but what the session delivered in speed it made up for with a relative lack of volume. The remainder of my runs took place in Chicago with new friends like Jill--whom I originally met at 13.1 Miami, then 13.1 NYC, then hung out with in Dallas, then reunited with at 13.1 Chicago--and old friends like Claire Shearman, my former Mizuno co-worker who now designs apparel for New Balance. Five or six years ago we both moved to Atlanta sight unseen to undertake new positions in the running industry and quickly became inseparable morning running buddies. Some of my fondest memories of the ATL include Claire, which made it a real treat to be able to spend some time with her and countless other industry peeps at the Fleet Feet conference this past week. (It's like a high school reunion, only with people you actually want to see!)

The best part of this week in running? Knocking out my Sunday five miler with JSK by my side. I've missed my running buddy over the recent weeks and months as he struggled through a series of debilitating injuries, and nothing makes me happier than the prospect of returning to our almost daily routine of matching each other stride for stride (that is, when I'm not making him block the wind and drag me through workouts while I stare at his back).

Looking ahead, my mileage increase will begin on schedule tomorrow. Several of my early runs will take place in Charleston, where I'll be traveling with Jordan and my parents after they arrive later today for a much awaited visit. A running mecca it is not, but the one positive about logging the miles in Chucktown is that it will make Charlotte seem cool and devoid of humidity by comparison when we get home. Either way, it can only make me tougher.

Let the summer training begin!

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