A Farewell To Socks

Like most athletes, I'm a little obsessive about my gear.  Well, some of my gear.  Other stuff I don't give a crap about.  For instance, running shoes - don't really care.  I'll run in any decent minimalist shoe.  On the other hand, there is only one running bra I will even consider and that's the magically bounce eliminating Freya Underwire Running Bra.  Underwire.  I recommend that bra to women like it's my job.

I also have one pair of extra special socks that I save for my longest runs.  I'd bet I've run 400 miles in those socks, probably more.  I think I've worn them for every race I've run in the last 4 years. Today I had a 16 mile run on the calendar. Of course, I pulled out my fav socks.  I wish - oh how I wish - I knew what brand and style of socks these are.  These socks were actually a giveaway at a race expo a few years ago.  For months I've watched them get progressively more threadbare and this morning I debated switching to a pair that wasn't about to fall apart, but decided they could make one more long run.

I was about halfway through my run when I realized the heel of my sock had disintegrated. I was on my way to one epic blister and 8 miles from my car. (How do you force yourself to run 16 miles?  You don't.  You force yourself to run 8 miles.  The last 8 miles are a desperate attempt to get home.)  I managed to stuff some paper towel inside my sock and it miraculously held up for the remainder of the run.

And I held up for 17 miles, overrunning my training goal by a mile.

Double Digit Mileage - Oopsie!

I took the last two weeks off from running for a trip to South America.  I packed my running gear, but there was so much to do that running took the back seat to drinking wine and eating beef.  I don't know how the people of Argentina and Chile stay so thin since they have so much yummy food and wine and they consume it in USA-sized quantities.  I know how Europeans stay slender: portion control.  South Americans seems to eat big, eat late and drink all day.  They have some miracle metabolic gene while I have a fatty-fatty-bombalaty gene. (I started posting trip stuff at: http://thirteenhourflight.blogspot.com/.)

This Saturday, it was time to pay the piper.  I was a bit behind on my training calendar and needed to do an 8 miler.  Since I hadn't run that distance in awhile, I decided to do the ultra-flat bay loop.

Here's the problem with doing the bay loop.  It's boring.  Buh-buh-buh-boring.  When I'm driving to the bay, I can see the highway exit for my all-time favorite run in San Diego: Sunset Cliffs.  From the name, you can deduce it's a hilly run with some 10-14% grades.  Despite my distaste for hills, I cannot resist the beauty of that run.

It was a challenge, but I felt really good and ended up tacking on two extra miles.  Felt good, but my quadriceps where screaming on Sunday.

New Team Starts Earlyish

I'm starting with a new running team tomorrow morning bright and are-you-kidding-me early.

It's been nearly 2 years since I ran with a team.  I've been running - or not - whenever I woke up on Saturday morning.  Tonight I spent roughly an hour prepping for the A.M.

Hat
Running dress
Shoes
Socks
Peanut butter shot
Water bottle
Recovery drink
Water bottle
Phone
Cash
Directions to the meeting up point.

I think I've got everything.  Oh and guess what time we start. Guess.

5:30 A.M.

Really.

I'm In!!

After years of entering the lottery, I finally got a spot in the race. I'm nowhere near marathon condition, but the New York Marathon has always been my dream. There's so much to figure out...race calendars, hotels, travel, training plans, running partners.


Right now, I'm not worrying too much about anything.  I'm just thrilled to be in it.

Vineman Ironman 70.3 - Run Leg: What Happened to My Beautiful Plan?

As someone who's run more than 40 half marathons, I was confident that I'd be fine on the run. Hubris! I was okay on the first three miles, but then I started to get a tummy ache from the Gatorade. That's when I did something boneheaded. I stopped taking Gatorade at the aid stations. With the broken bike, my race had gone on nearly an hour longer than I expected and you can't race unless you consistently replace electrolytes.

After awhile, my stomach ache subsidied, but the long uphill run in the afternoon sun just toasted me. By mile six I was cramping a bit, but I wasn't all that tired. For a long while, I could see a guy running behind me in the distance. When I walked he walked and when I ran he ran. I convinced myself to keep pushing for him, because I knew I was setting the pace for him. If I quit, so would he. Like I said. Moral support - rule legal and greatly appreciated.

After the turnaround, I ran into the tie-dye guy who talked me through the bike repair attempt. I'm not sure when I passed him, but he was still on the outbound leg of the run.  I ran over and hugged him.  I love you tie-dye guy!

It was slow going, but at least I was going until about mile 9.  That's when I started cramping horribly. I couldn't push off to run without my calves locking up entirely.  The last 3 miles of the course took me over an hour to walk.  I was losing so much time that I was afraid the course would close.  I decided that it was a public street and they couldn't force me off the course.  I'd finish that race even if they were done giving out finishers' medals and they'd all gone home.

Luckily, it didn't come to that.  I got to finisher's chute and there was Steve cheering for me.  Actually, the volunteers waved me into the wrong chute and it ended in a dead end.  Steve had to tell me to go under the rope and run to the actual finish line.

Ah, sweet relief and sweet victory.  Broken bike, crampy run, fear - you can all kiss my Finisher's Medal.  I did it!