Double Digits

Today marked a milestone in my running career: my first double-digit run. Ten miles.

Throughout the week, that number had been staring at me every time I opened my planner. It's appearance matched my feelings for it: it seemed large, but attainable; I was uncertain I could actually complete that distance, but something kept telling me I was ready.

I planned my route a few days ago. I would run two laps of the four-mile loop in the Park, combined with a mile each way to and from the entrance on 90th.

I set out around 9:30 AM this morning, feeling light and airy in just running shorts and a short-sleeved top. Today's weather was perfect for running: low sixties, partly cloudy with a light breeze.

I entered Central Park and began my first four mile loop. It was a bit intimidating, especially on the hills, to think I would be back again, facing the same challenges, only with an extra 40 minutes of running behind me. I felt strong when I finished the first loop; five miles down, five miles to go. I was only half-way finished?

I passed the exit and began to get a bit worried. Suddenly I wasn't so positive I could do the ten miles. But I needed to do it, I was too sick to run last weekend. I tried to think about how rewarding it would be at the end. I still have seven weeks until the half-marathon; to know I would only be 3.1 miles shy of that distance with so much time remaining would certainly be a confidence booster.

So I trudged along, very slowly in some parts, taking advantage of bursts of energy in others. I tried not to worry too much about my pace; my biggest concern with this run should be my distance. Shortly after I crossed-over to the West Side, I felt my body become completely focused on the task at hand. While during my first five miles I enjoyed the scenery and taking in my surroundings, the last half of my run was focused only on the distance I could see directly in front of me.

At about the seventh mile, there was no way I would let myself stop before I finished all ten miles. I felt the power in my legs, my core and upper body had kicked-in to sync and the bottom of my feet were surprisingly blister-free (thanks to a lot of Body Glide and two pairs of socks).

I finished the ten miles (10.08 miles technically) in 1 hour 27 minutes 50 seconds. I felt amazing; I felt like I could really be considered a runner now. That time breaks-down to an average split time of 8 minutes 42 seconds, which is about 20 seconds higher than my training program calls for. But I was not upset in the least - I was too proud of finishing my first-ever double digit run.

The windows have been open in the apartment all day. When I was younger, I could never figure out why Mum and Dad were so excited to open the windows when the winter chill had finally disappeared from the air. But now that I am cooped-up indoors pretty much all day, I understand that excitement. I understand wanting that fresh, pure air to blow through your house and overtake the staleness of the winter months.

Between a wonderful run, a replenished tummy and the breeze, I enjoyed an hour nap on the couch this afternoon. Afterwards, Mike and I ordered lunch from our favorite Thai restaurant. The afternoon was just as relaxed as the weather.

My muscles have felt a bit sore throughout the day. But combined with the fresh air in my lungs, it has been that feeling of soreness you get after a day of hiking or an afternoon swimming in the ocean. The type of soreness where your body seems to be thanking you for taking care of it and using it for something other than the grind of everyday life.

Rest & Recovery

Last week was exhausting. Tough workouts, lay-offs at work and fending off the flu. Combine this with the fact that my body was already worn out from the cold, dark days of winter and just getting out of bed in the morning can seem like the biggest challenge of the day.

Last Thursday was probably the worst day I have experienced in a long time. I heard rumblings of lay-offs well before Thursday and I knew HR had blocked off usage of all the conference rooms for the day. But nothing really prepared me for the gut-wrenching feeling of hearing an unsuspecting co-worker say, "Hey guys, where is conference room number two?"

That was 8:45 in the morning. For the next seven hours, I sat in the stunned silence of the office, watching familiar faces trudging towards the conference rooms. I felt trapped and nauseous; I had to remind myself to eat during the day so I could handle my workout that evening.

A week later, I still cannot put all of the feelings from that day into words. I was thankful to leave the office that day still being employed, but I couldn't stop thinking about those people, especially with families to support, who hadn't been so lucky. A tough tempo workout helped put things in perspective for me; all I could hope for was that this happened for a reason. I had to believe there was something more rewarding, more fulfilling waiting for them.

I busied myself during the weekend with projects around the apartment and running errands. All day Saturday, I felt exhausted. I could feel the stress and anxiety of the previous few days as a heavy weight on my chest; it seemed to resonate in every muscle in my body. I went to bed early Saturday night and slept for almost sixteen hours.

That's right, I said sixteen hours. I didn't wake -up until 12:30 PM Sunday afternoon. I knew there was no way I could put my body through a long run; just standing up seem to take every ounce of effort I could muster. I tried not to feel guilty about it, I tried reminding myself that I would only make it worse, but it didn't help much at the time.

Luckily, this week has been much better than the last. My body recovered from Sunday and has felt strong through all of the week's workouts. Morale in the office is closer to what it was pre-doomsday. The eather has been miserable, but the weekend holds the promise of warmer temperatures and Daylight Savings Time. I am so incredibly ready for the Spring days, just around the corner.

Faith

This past Sunday was the first long run for the half-marathon training program. I was to complete six miles, with my split times averaging 8 minutes 23 seconds per split. I was not worried about the mileage, but I was a bit doubtful about my split times. On a treadmill, this would be very easy to control. But, as you all know my hatred for treadmills, I always do long runs outside. I almost always run an average split of 8 minutes and 34 seconds on these runs, it's my "I feel like I could run forever" pace. Knocking-off 11 seconds per mile seemed a bit daunting.

I slept in a little later than normal on Sunday and, quite honestly, had to drag myself out of bed. The last thing I wanted to do was run. My body felt worn-down from the past week and my stomach was churning with the anxiety of an unsettled argument with Mike. The bleakness of the sky certainly wasn't helping matters.

The first mile to Central Park was tough. The air felt almost as heavy as my legs; I had overdressed for the run and felt clammy. I kept thinking about the argument. All my thoughts and things I hadn't said seemed to collect as a large lump in my throat.

With mile one completed, I turned left into Central Park. It began to drizzle. For some, this would have been cause to turn around and forget their run, but I have always loved running in the rain. And today, with the cool, soft rain drops kissing my cheeks, it felt extra special. It was mimicking my mood and, in a city that can often leave you feeling a bit lonely, it was nice to have the company.

The lump in my throat began to melt away and suddenly I didn't even feel like I was running anymore. My mind was lifted to place where it didn't need to encourage my legs to keep moving. Somehow, my body was moving effortlessly, affording my mind the opportunity to escape to some other place entirely.

I wish I could say things were perfectly clear at the end of those six miles and I had thought of the perfect way to communicate why I was upset. In all truthfulness, things still seemed a bit hazy and it still took some time to put everything into words. What those six miles did was give me the confidence and energy I was lacking in tackling a problem.

They made me realize that maybe Mike wasn't just being a dense-pain-in-the-butt, but maybe I hadn't made my point clear enough. This time, everything was put on the table, and some things were presented in new ways. My effort was validated with a "Eureka!" moment, where I swear I saw a cartoon light-bulb glow above Mike's head. Argument solved.

Oh, I finished the six miles in 50 minutes and 23 seconds. Average splits? 8 minutes and 23 seconds. Maybe I all I really needed was a little bit of faith.

10 Weeks and Counting

Today marked the beginning of my half-marathon training program. I have spent the last few weeks researching and evaluating training programs in attempts to find one that would fit into my schedule perfectly - not an easy request by any means.

But, I believe I have found a winner, a training program which closely mimics the running schedule I have been keeping for the past few months. There are only three runs per week: speedwork on Tuesday, tempo run on Thursday and long run on Sunday. While the pace you are expected to complete these various workouts is faster than most other programs, it allows for such a schedule where you do not have to run every day of the week.

I know myself fairly well by now and I knew a program that required me to run 5-6 days a week wouldn't last very long. The first few weeks would have been fine, but then I would become bored and burned-out. When it comes to working out, I have found I need variety in order to keep me going. With the program I have chosen, I can cross-train 2-3 times a week, which will not only keep me interested, but also place more value on each of the three runs throughout the week.

Today, being Tuesday, was a speedwork day. Unfortunately, both runs on Tuesday and Thursday will have to be on a treadmill, at least until the sun stays up past 5:30 PM. So I completed the prescribed session - 4 x 400m at 6:37 pace with a 2 minute recovery jog in between - during my lunch hour. After the first 400, I wasn't quite positive I would be able to complete the remaining three sprints, but my body settled into the faster pace and I was back at my desk before I knew it.

I am looking forward to the next ten weeks. I am anxious to discover what I will learn about myself both as a runner and an individual. At the end of the ten weeks, I will have not only completed a half-marathon, but I also will have begun the pastry program and the cold months of winter will be a distant thought. I'm happy to have you all along for the ride.

Happy Valentine's Day