Wednesday's Run

I have a plan.  A running plan.  An actual written schedule for my training runs.

I'm running four times a week:  Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday.  Sunday is "long run" day, Tuesday and Friday are basically Time On Legs.  And starting this week, Wednesday is "Speed Training" day. 

I hesitate to use the word speed  in relation to bipedal locomotion done by me. 

The nice people at McMillan Running have a training pace calculator.  They are nice people because while they want to sell training advice to "serious" runners, they don't mind giving some free stuff away to those who are strictly dabblers like myself.  You put in a recent race time, an actual time over distance you've done at your current level of fitness.  Then you put in a goal time.  What comes out as a result is a table of paces for various types of training runs.

I find the McMillan paces useful for two reasons.  It can help keep me from doing my Sunday long run too fast -- and that can keep me from getting injured.  And it can also give me a mental boot in the butt to do my Wednesday run faster than I think I can. 

Wednesday was scheduled as a 30 minute Tempo run.  My "good" recent 5K time was 29:51, and my goal time for now is 28:30.  (I'm old and slow, get over it.)  So the Tempo pace range was 9:46 - 10:04 per mile.  That is quite a bit faster than my Time On Legs runs.  Nevertheless.  I had to do it.  Cry in the dojo, laugh on the battlefield, and all that.  You know.  If wishes were horses then beggars would ride -- well if wishes were training runs then couch potatoes would be improving their 5K times. 

You plan the run, then you run the plan.

I did it.  And met the pace goal.  And had to fight my stupid brain which kept telling me I was gonna die, DIE!  Take that, stupid brain! 

Next Wednesday I only  have to do 5 X 400M in something like 2:14 each.  Only. 

Progressing toward a post-surgery 5K PR at end of April. 

Dark and early...

Up at the usual time, it was of course an hour darker due to Daylight Savings Time.  There was a little sliver of nearly-new moon up just before dawn.  As I began my run, several deer unconcernedly walked up the hill to go to bed -- night shift / morning shift. 

Just to make life more complicated, the parks department has closed my favorite stretch of trail due to landslides.  That shortens my possibilities for hill runs in that direction. 

This morning I went up to the road closure, and did a double loop on another hill to make a total of 4.3 miles with 1700 ft. of climb.  Wheee! 

This makes two weeks (training weeks -- I'm back to thinking of my life as my run schedule from Monday through Sunday) of running four times a week: run Tuesday, Wednesday; weights on Thursday (half an hour of arm and shoulder work with light dumbbells); run Friday and Sunday.  I break it up like this:  short (junk miles / mental health run) on Tuesday, Tempo or Intervals on Wednesday, Moderate time-on-legs run on Friday, and Long Run on Sunday. 

Right now "long" isn't very long.  But progress is progress, and sticking to it is sticking to it. 

Become one every day

What Do I Want To Become - Every Day?

“It was in Antioch that the disciples were called Christians for the first time” (Act. 11, 26) ...
To be a Christian means to go up to the mountain to which Christ leads us. To enter into the temple of the living God that is formed in us and in our midst by the Holy Spirit. To be Christian means to continue to become Christian, learning from Christ the ways of the Lord so as to be able "to walk in his paths" (cf. Is. 2, 3). To be a Christian means to become one every day, ascending spiritually towards Christ and following him. In fact, as we recall, when Christ first called those who were to become his disciples, he said to them: "Follow me".

I can still hear these words the way Pope John Paul II pronounced them, in his steady and careful way.

 The quote is from the address he gave at the Mass at Candlestick Park, San Francisco, September 18, 1987. 

This dialectic of being and becoming is central to every aspect of our identity.  For example, a license and a ceremony can turn a single man into a husband (in a way), but being  a husband requires taking up the task of becoming a husband  every day.  A biological juxtaposition can turn a childless man into a father (in a way), but to really be a father in a meaningful way, the man must enter into the character of fatherhood, walk the walk of fatherhood, and be  a father by becoming a father  every day. 

Aristotle uses the term "actualization". Potentially being can turn into actually being.  How?  By doing the impossible: by actually being what you are not.  The example I remember is playing a musical instrument.  Say someone doesn't know how to play the piano. (Well, how could he play the piano?  He doesn't know how!)  In order to learn he must practice, which involves -- actually playing the piano.  If to play and to not-play were somehow radically exclusive, all learning would be impossible.  In the real world, however, people do learn to play the piano. They practice, and little by little they play more and better.  Actualization.

"To be a Christian means to become one every day."

To be a ____________  means to become one every day. 

What do I want to become?

Resolution Runners

There is a new crop of New-Year's-Resolution runners out on the trails.  The really superior ones start a week or so before New Year's Day so as to feel all exercisier-than-thou next week. 

I can tell by the socks of course.  The beginner balks at laying out $100 +/- for a pair of actual factual running shoes, but particularly shies away from paying $9.50 for a pair of socks! 

But I can also tell by their faces, and responses to my greetings.  There is a look of fear in their faces, and there is no response to my "Hello" or "Happy New Year".  It seems to be fear of being caught in the act of something.  Fear of being recognized.  Recognized as a failure?  Recognized as a running newbie?  As for the response or lack of response, maybe I'm just so funny looking that it takes their breath away.  Maybe they are running too fast and have no breath left to take away.  But I don't even get a wave or a tilt of the head or a smile.  Just a look I call "The Pole-Axed Cow" -- the wide eyes just before the complete collapse.  (To be fair, it is not just newbies that  give me the Pole-Axed Cow look.  I get it from the IronMan guys, the deathly serious out-to-prove-something guys a decade or two younger than me (I'm 55) and still acting out their adolescent pride.)

For all the new runners out there, let me say two things. 

First, it's totally okay if the gear comes later.  When I started running in 2004, it was cotton socks, cheap all-purpose training flats, and cut-offs.  I remember doing the Couch to 5K the first time, that big day of the 20 minute run, in cut-off BDU pants that had cargo pockets and came down to my knees.  Oh, and I carried a digital kitchen timer for those first weeks of timed run / walk intervals (did not have a digital watch at the time)!  So -- gear will come later, and to suit your comfort (and income) level. 

Second, it's okay to respond to greetings by other runners.  Honestly, runners are some of the most welcoming and inclusive people!  Your local group may vary.  Maybe where I am is exceptional.  But I don't think so.  The attitude that says "Only Competitive Runners Allowed" is extremely rare.  Many race directors are or have been very fine competitive runners, and they are happy to see runners of every ability level in the field.  But it's not just race events that will welcome you.  Many runners remember their start too, since we weren't all naturally gifted talents that climbed success upon success from Middle School on.  We're glad you're here.  We hope you'll stay. 

Start your kick whenever you're ready

Each calendar year resembles a road race.  That's just the way I've thought about it for several years.  Most of the races I enter are 5 Kilometers, 3.107 miles.  So to me the calendar pages correspond approximately to the laps of a 5000 meter race on the track.

You start out with the pack at the top of the year, intense and focused.  You try to maintain some kind of pace.  By the time the "dog days" roll around, it's like that part after the two mile point where my attention starts to wander; my stride length and frequency drop off unless I struggle to maintain the pace.  

But here are heading up to the finish.  If the year were a 5K, then this coming Saturday (December 1) would be the start of the last quarter mile.  You can stick it out for one more lap, can't ya? 

Feel free to shift gears and kick it in.

Saturday Afternoon Run

Four miles yesterday between hours of steady rain. 


My running has been infrequent.  Discretion / Valor kind of thing. 
Two weeks ago, daytime temps in the 80°F range.  Lately, we've had 40°s and fog or 50°s and rain -- and everybody at my house seems to be deathly ill with some kind of snotty, croupy cold. 
Sometimes rest is just what the immune system needs. 
But it sure felt good to get out and do some of those "mental health miles" yesterday!

Ten Pounds - What's That Mean?

I was going to tape these ten bottles of water together and strap them on around my middle as a graphic representation of carrying around "a little extra weight."  (But that was too much work.)

Here are (10) each, 16.9 ounce water bottles.  Roughly ten pounds.

They seemed pretty heavy when I carried them into the living room for the photo.

So here's the question:
Why should I carry that much weight around under my skin all day every day?  Why would I want to burden myself with those "few extra pounds" every time I go running?

Ten extra pounds may not seem like a lot to some people.  But I can remember how I felt several years ago, when I was running more, and feeling better, and feeling happier. 

Right now (14 November 2012) I am ten pounds lighter than I was in February 2011.  Twenty-one months of taking the steps toward better health and overcoming the obstacles that kept me on the couch.  Doctor appointments.  Hernia surgery.  Recovery from surgery.  Dealing with work during the recovery.  Starting to exercise (walk) more.  Starting the Couch-to-5K program (again).  Running again.  Running a 5K race last February.  Finishing a 15K race in September.  Occasionally choosing the healthier snack (or no snack).  Learning to believe in myself some more again.  I feel pretty good about all that.

Anyway.  I am still about 6 pounds heavier than I was six years ago.  We'll see where it goes from here.  As the running miles add up, and the lifestyle evens out, maybe I'll be lighter, stronger, faster.

Gotta run . . .