So I joined Facebook FINALLY, and oh what an anthill I disturbed! I don't know whether to be overjoyed or dubious. I was able to make some apologies for past indiscretions, and I was able to reconnect with people I love. I can see how it can become an addiction, but I am so busy and distracted, I think I will be o.k.
I embarked on a 3.5 mile tempo (accelerated) run today. I modified it. I made it even faster. I did the 3.5 at an 8:15 pace--I felt fantastic, and I was still able to sing along to "Smack My Bitch Up"--Prodigy. I think this is the fastest I have run in awhile, and it plants the seeds of speedtraining inside my psyche. Who wants to be fast versus who wants the longest distance without blowing a brain artery? I really need to incorporate the speed training back into my schedule, and my crosstraining has fallen by the wayside.
I have my last mary in May. If I do the triathlon Bob wants me to do, I am introducing all the other shit I have given up BACK into my schedule. Where the hell am I going to find all of this? I have to add a 20-mile cycle into the weekend with a long run on Sunday.
Whatever. I always figure out a way. I miss explosive training.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Donna and Things
I had a 15-hour sleep-a-thon last night! Thank goodness I have an understanding husband. We went to the Donna Expo today; and much to our dismay, we discovered we were assigned to the last corral AGAIN. WTF??? The woman who wants to run with me got assigned a faster corral and she put a slower finish time. Go figure. No worries. I am going to hide my bib.
I feel good, weather looks iffy. There is a 35% chance of rain. NICE temperate everything else...not too hot, not too cold. I am thinking this may be doable.
I feel good, weather looks iffy. There is a 35% chance of rain. NICE temperate everything else...not too hot, not too cold. I am thinking this may be doable.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Decision Time
After a good race yesterday--finished seventh out of 47, I awoke and did a quick 3.66 at just a sub-nine/8:45 minute mile. FELT fantastic. But the nature of this beast is if I am going to crash before the weekend. I have had a change of plans--a faster runner wants to run the full with me. I only hope I don't hold her back. Decision made. I am running 26.2 with Donna and friend on Sunday. Pray for me. I want to finish healthy. She is so much faster. I am intimidated.
I never know when the mono sleep is going to hit. I slept 13 hours Saturday night.
I never know when the mono sleep is going to hit. I slept 13 hours Saturday night.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Winter Beaches Run Today
I did what I said I wouldn't do this year--another beach run. Bob was going for the ten, and he wanted me to go with him. I was going to catch some rays, and I just awoke from a 12-hour post mono slumberfest. I haven't run or worked out in three days. I can't wait to SHAKE THIS DAMN BUG.
Bob said I may as well run it, and I was not too keen about it. I injured my tendon last year doing the ten-mile. For some reason, sand and I don't a nice runner make. Bob enjoys the beach, says it "cushions" his stride. It is the opposite for me, usually I have a hard time navigating the eddies and inconsistencies.
I decided to do the five mile, and I did a mile warm-up to "feel out" how I was going to run. Was I going to race? Or was I just going to run? I just decided to do whatever my legs told me to do. I hit mile one at 8:38, and I panicked a little--but then I just told myself I wasn't going to look at any more mile markers, and I didn't. I kept my eyes downcast, and just enjoyed the beautiful weather. The sand was smooth, and I sailed through the race with minimum effort--finishing in 46:00...tying my five-mile PR.
Bob is adamant I don't go for the full marathon next weekend. I may have to concede and do the half. I guess I am putting all my marbles in the Pittsburgh Marathon. I got to be better by then, right? RIGHT???
Bob said I may as well run it, and I was not too keen about it. I injured my tendon last year doing the ten-mile. For some reason, sand and I don't a nice runner make. Bob enjoys the beach, says it "cushions" his stride. It is the opposite for me, usually I have a hard time navigating the eddies and inconsistencies.
I decided to do the five mile, and I did a mile warm-up to "feel out" how I was going to run. Was I going to race? Or was I just going to run? I just decided to do whatever my legs told me to do. I hit mile one at 8:38, and I panicked a little--but then I just told myself I wasn't going to look at any more mile markers, and I didn't. I kept my eyes downcast, and just enjoyed the beautiful weather. The sand was smooth, and I sailed through the race with minimum effort--finishing in 46:00...tying my five-mile PR.
Bob is adamant I don't go for the full marathon next weekend. I may have to concede and do the half. I guess I am putting all my marbles in the Pittsburgh Marathon. I got to be better by then, right? RIGHT???
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Ocala: Cold, Hilly Horse Country Half Marathon
After returning to running after a illness-imposed hiatus (I have run maybe a total of 15 miles since the Goofy challenge in small increments), I finally had my "break-through" run yesterday after a speedy seven miles. As I burst into the house, I head for the bedroom to talk to Bob while he was getting his running crap together for the Ocala marathon. Feeling exalted, I sang, "I could have done a half-marathon today with NOOOO problem." Famous last words, and Bob called me out on it. "Ya know, Lee Ann," he snickered. "They have a half tomorrow." All I could think about was the "rolling hills" described on the race's homepage.
I got called out by Bob, so I rolled my happy ass out of bed at 3:30 this morning to join Bob in his quest for marathon sexytime. He has had a vomiting issue his last couple of marathons, and it has killed his time consistently. More importantly, I am usually his target of choice for post-race chunk hurl. First thing I notice when we get into the truck is that it is FREAKING COLD. I am in racing shorts. My freshly shaved legs were virtual cactus appendages by the time we got to Starke.
When we arrive in Ocala, we notice frost on parked car windows. Did I say it was cold? Because it was cold. I did same dayregistration, and I couldn't get over how small the venue was. In fact, Bob parked the truck RIGHT AT THE FINISH SHOOT. I sat and talked to Jen in the truck after my half watching runners come in. I felt very VIP.
About those rolling hills. I think it is utterly unfair and against the grain of creation's greater purpose to make a hill without a downside. I want to get that out of the way before I continue. That, along with fine crystalline mist freezing in my nosehairs, were my biggest "dag-nabbit, wtf am I doing this for" fodder for me to fixate upon. I suppose I am lucky. Ocala is horse country and that is EXACTLY what you are running through. I suppose I should be thankful for my frozen nares--I never once smelled horse dookie until the end of the race.
***More rolling hills***
I knew I was sucking at mile 9. They serve HEED at the waterstations manned by teenagers who are compelled to mix the aforementioned Heed in dubious concentrations. One station? A faint, pink-tinged watery substance. Another station? You may as well have handed me a cup of Robitussin. YIKES.
Anyway, if you have read this far, I finished in 2:10. I was trying to emit positive karma forces to Bob and the settled-stomach fairies who I believe in, damn it. Yesterday I wrote a time I predicted he was going to finish the race down in a magazine in his truck. He didn't want to know what I wrote, but I was out of the truck at exactly the time I predicted for him at 4:16:58. I spotted him coming to the finish at 4:16:00. I start maniacally waving and screaming for him to "Step it up, baby" and I received perhaps thebiggest stinkeye experienced in the years of our marriage. He finished in 4:17 and change. He said he threw up at mile 21, and a motorcycle cop was circling him like the anticipatory vulture swooping around a flattened possum.
I would do it as a full, but only if I was healthier. Not a bad race, quiet and non-eventful. Plenty of room to run without getting boxed in.
I got called out by Bob, so I rolled my happy ass out of bed at 3:30 this morning to join Bob in his quest for marathon sexytime. He has had a vomiting issue his last couple of marathons, and it has killed his time consistently. More importantly, I am usually his target of choice for post-race chunk hurl. First thing I notice when we get into the truck is that it is FREAKING COLD. I am in racing shorts. My freshly shaved legs were virtual cactus appendages by the time we got to Starke.
When we arrive in Ocala, we notice frost on parked car windows. Did I say it was cold? Because it was cold. I did same dayregistration, and I couldn't get over how small the venue was. In fact, Bob parked the truck RIGHT AT THE FINISH SHOOT. I sat and talked to Jen in the truck after my half watching runners come in. I felt very VIP.
About those rolling hills. I think it is utterly unfair and against the grain of creation's greater purpose to make a hill without a downside. I want to get that out of the way before I continue. That, along with fine crystalline mist freezing in my nosehairs, were my biggest "dag-nabbit, wtf am I doing this for" fodder for me to fixate upon. I suppose I am lucky. Ocala is horse country and that is EXACTLY what you are running through. I suppose I should be thankful for my frozen nares--I never once smelled horse dookie until the end of the race.
***More rolling hills***
I knew I was sucking at mile 9. They serve HEED at the waterstations manned by teenagers who are compelled to mix the aforementioned Heed in dubious concentrations. One station? A faint, pink-tinged watery substance. Another station? You may as well have handed me a cup of Robitussin. YIKES.
Anyway, if you have read this far, I finished in 2:10. I was trying to emit positive karma forces to Bob and the settled-stomach fairies who I believe in, damn it. Yesterday I wrote a time I predicted he was going to finish the race down in a magazine in his truck. He didn't want to know what I wrote, but I was out of the truck at exactly the time I predicted for him at 4:16:58. I spotted him coming to the finish at 4:16:00. I start maniacally waving and screaming for him to "Step it up, baby" and I received perhaps thebiggest stinkeye experienced in the years of our marriage. He finished in 4:17 and change. He said he threw up at mile 21, and a motorcycle cop was circling him like the anticipatory vulture swooping around a flattened possum.
I would do it as a full, but only if I was healthier. Not a bad race, quiet and non-eventful. Plenty of room to run without getting boxed in.
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