Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Leadville SR50 Week 9: What Happened to Spring, And My Motivation?

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.  Attitude, to me, is more important than facts.  It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think, say or do.  It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill.  It will make or break a company... a church... a home.  The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we embrace for that day.  We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way.  We cannot change the inevitable.  The only thing we can do is play the one string we have, and that is our attitude... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.
And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes” - Charles Swindle

I found this poem/quote in the back of a drawer the other day, something given to me by a coach of mine a very, very long time ago.  I didn't know back then how much it'd mean to me when I revisited it throughout the years later.

Yesterday's temps hit a howling 87 degrees (and I have a killer sunburn on my back to show for it) as I wrapped up my 10th week to the Leadville Silver Rush 50 with a nice little 35 mile jaunt on the bike with Kathleen.  Last week we had snow in the Denver area, today I'm being roasted to dissolution.  Somewhere, Spring got lost on it's way to Colorado and Summer's arrived at maximum speed.  I guess if there's one saving Grace to Spring's absence, my allergies are only at a code level orange instead of the normal red this time of the year.

I also just happened to hit my lowest running mileage during this training cycle, with a somber disposition to follow suit.

I guess it was bound to happen I'd eventually hit a major motivational slump, but I was utterly unprepared when it slammed me last week, and felt like a complete failure every day when I pulled up my killer training plan and couldn't muster up the strength or energy to run.  I logged a whopping 16 miles last week and about 900' vertical.  Go me.

I'm certain my bleak mood of having to lower my runner's flag to half mast was partly due to residual soreness from the 50k the week before (my calves were on fire all week, ouch), but I also think some of my doom was due to a plate that is just not merely full, but more so over-flowing with end-of-the-school-year activities.  When you're a working athlete-mom living the working athlete-mom life, these things happen, I guess.  But ugh, it hit me hard.  I'm sure in 2 weeks I'll be picking my nose out of sheer boredom....but right, I can't see one speck of that plate.

I tried to run last week, I did, but either my screaming calves or Mother Nature told me No.  Mid-week, when I found a window between Ryan's regional track meet events (he ran a new PR 1:56 anchor for the 4x800 :)), I scurried to the foothills to get in at least a few miles of vertical run in.  Got there, and it instantly started thundering.  I don't mind a little mind-cleansing rainy run to sooth the soul, but lightening's a different ballgame; I don't exactly relish the thought of being being burnt to a crisp on the side of a mountain.  I had a little meltdown, screamed to the skies above to just give me a stupid break, and soon landed back at the track meet.... missing Ryan's 2nd event.  I could have gotten on my treadmill later that night, but I didn't.  After the vertical fiasco run, I wanted stillness; I didn't even want a breeze to move my flag.

My attitude started to pick up a tad towards the end of the week when a group of women I work with threw me a 29th 50th birthday party.  I hate being in large groups ("hate" being the emphasis here), especially with a focus on me turning old, but the gesture was touching and I was deeply moved by their kindness.  I don't think I've laughed that much in a really, really long time.  I'm not sure why, but I even did a shot of tequila, and I rarely drink anything other than an occasional beer.  For some reason, I thought it was stupidly funny and doing it made me laugh....there is always a pocket of comfort in discomfort (a large group of people, for example) - I just had to be willing to find it.  My runner's mast was lifted, ever so slightly.



50-year-olds shouldn't be up so late, nor drinking margaritas and a shot of tequila; they may fall asleep on the table 
Saturday, I ended my coaching gig for Girls on the Run with our 5k "run".  The girls had an amazing season and progressed so much over the course of the past 12 weeks, I couldn't help but get choked up on race day, especially since I'm almost certain I will not return next year (I said that last year, too).  I've coached at the same school for the past few years; it's a low-income school where every girl is on a scholarship to participate.  Some of their stories of harrowing survival are heart-wrenching, I can't help but be reminded that, even when I have some pretty horribly down days, I could have it so much worse.  Flag rose again - how could it not!

My two run buddies.  We crossed just at exactly 40 minutes and the girls and I were super proud.  
Sunday marked an all chick's 5k race.  I talked my very dear friend, and old training partner, Tara, into running the race also.  Some long time readers (Maybe all one of you) may remember Tara's blog; she had a baby in the fall, and then fell off the blog planet, but she is a riot and makes me laugh - constantly.  Tara means the world to me and totally gets me and all my baggage; when she told me in the car on the way up there she was moving out of Colorado the weekend after we get back from Boise, I felt heaviness weighing like 5 million bricks in my heart.  I knew this day was coming, still....
Salty with tears and sweat.  I'm going to miss her like Whoooa bad 
The two of us twisted fellow Boise-bound friend, Katie, into running also (but we made her run the 10k, since running is her weakness.  Sort of like I should be on my bike 7 days a week since biking is my weakness.  Whatever, it's not always about me :)) and my Greenland crewing compadre, Julie, showed up as cheerleader.  Everyone needs a cheerleader, especially when my attitude towards running was still bouncing all over the map.  With my bleh disposition towards this race and Tara's horrendous stomachache, Julie got an ear-full of 4-letter words...but, as always, Julie just smiled and loved us anyway.

I'm not sure why I'm listing to the left, but I'm taking Tara with me
I couldn't decide how to really race this nor how much I really wanted it, which is never the best headspace place to be before a race. I decided last minute not to run by the watch and instead, turn it off and go by perceived effort.  But I had 'auto lap' on and the good ole watch beeped at mile 1: 7:04.

Crap.  Too fast?  I didn't really know.  I felt good but I had a sneaking suspicion my zippy pace wasn't going to hold for two more miles.  Right I was.  Mile 2: 7:18, mile 3: 7:40 (after slugging through some almost knee-deep waters where a creek over-flowed on the path, which left me spent and pretty much mentally giving up).  I finished with a fairly decent time, for me: 22:41, and a 5th place finish overall.
I swear, I only counted 3 women ahead of me, so not sure why I'm not 4th overall ...not that I'm being a
big baby about it or anything!
I raced it poorly, evident by my increased pace per mile, but my overall finish time was, I think, the 2nd best 5k time I've had in the past 5 years.  For a 'not a big deal' race, I didn't beat myself up over my lack of ill-paced stupidness, like I did a week ago at the Greenland 50k.  I had fun, I had a good overall finish time, and by the end of the race, I wanted that flag raised to full mast... the race, and time spent with people I care so deeply for during the past week, helped inch it closer.  I'm not really good around people most of the time, so this is pretty big stuff.

I finished the week with the leisurely sun-soaked bike ride with Kathleen, chatting about life's little hiccups, knowing that the things we're both dealing with won't always be as they are.  Suddenly, I looked at her, smiled, and knew I was ready to tackle Leadville again.  If anyone ever needs a lift in life, Kathleen can handle the job well!

My mindset may not be fully intact for the ambitious races I have in the upcoming weeks, but my training rut is officially over, just like Spring.  It's time to pursue my goals with the optimistic abandon of a child.  I feel the flag almost at full mast; I'm going for it.

Leadville, my game's back on - Maaahhhahahahahah!

P.S.  Brendan leaves Saturday (as in THIS Saturday) for 3.5 months with the Blue Knights.  So proud of that kid, he worked so hard for this...but damn, my heart's hurting, despite BK prep crap scattered from one of my house to the other.  He's going to have an incredible summer filled with some amazing experiences.  I hope he embraces the opportunity he's been given and never gets down on those days that are going to be super tough, just as Charles Swindle says (I'm going to copy the poem and put it in his backpack.  I'm sure he'll roll his eyes when he notices, but I know this kid well...and I know he'll cherish my sentiment).  Ah, the parallels between his Blue Knights and my Leadville journey ....

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Leadville SR50 Week 10: Pace Is Not A Goal

I want to start this post off by saying that I love my children.  All the moms out there probably know what is coming next, but in case you aren't a mom, I will explain.  When a mom starts off with "I love my children," the next thing to come out of her mouth will be a complaint about motherhood.  Kind of like when someone says, "No offense," the next thing to come out of their mouth will be horribly offensive.  (If you are from the south you can substitute "no offense" with "bless your heart.")  It is like the former statement offsets anything negative said in the latter statement.  Like, "No offensive, but your face makes me want to throw up."  And, "I love my kids, but if they don't shut the hell up I'm going to sell them on Craigslist."  "No offensive" and "I love my kids" made those totally acceptable statements.

No offense, but when I had the VERY rare opportunity to drag all my kids, and my achy post-race body to dinner the other night, after I had just run a brutally tough race where I conquered Mt. Everest (4 times),



I instantly found the Craigslist phone app when I asked my kids to pose for a "nice family photo"  ....




Bless their hearts .... do you think they are in need of some sort of family therapy?  Maybe I can find a group discount on Craigslist, I now have the app at finger's reach.

On to running, which isn't really as entertaining as my kids (after Leadville, I'm starting a "Stupid Things My Kids Do" blog)... unless I write about the brainless things I do running or cycling (I doubtlessly need to include myself in the new blog)...

I'm entering a phase in my training for Leadville where the miles and the vertical climbing need to get longer.  Joyous. I run 99.999% of my long runs alone (all runs, basically, not just long.  Cue the violins).  I map out where I need to go, drive a long-ass way to get there, run, go home, crash. Ignore kids, dinner, mail, phone...repeat.  This pretty much sums up my long run days.  I know my body pretty well and how it responds to these long, solo plights; fun at first because it's exploring new stomping grounds and tackling more vertical miles in a month than I've probably done in my entire running career.  I'm not complaining, I love that I'm embracing a world that has frightened me for so long and I haven't given up, I'm enjoying the rewards my body is reaping from the hill work - and more than happy not to hear any longer,  "No offensive Honey, but you have a big butt....bless your heart."  Hill work can have give the body some pretty impressive advantages!

But eventually, long vertical hours running alone can do some wild things to my headspace.  Thoughts of wild animals peering behind rocks, creepy old men lurking around, songs on my iPod I never want to hear again - ever ever ever ever, podcasts that make me want to vomit they're so pointless, audiobooks I've missed whole chapters because I got sidetracked wondering if creepy old man was looking at me the wrong way.

So to offset a few of solitary long runs, I'm entering the world of The Trail Race.  

I was brought up in a racing world where a time clock was held over my head and I ran laps repeatedly around a track based on a specific time (I watch Ryan go through this same scenario, daily).  Races were time tests and the reward of those tedious laps, if all panned out well, was a personal best.  You enter race, you performed your best.  Period.  But endurance trail running isn't like that, at least not for newbie trail runner me.  I'm learning (and not the easy way, either) to chuck the watch and let my ego fly out the window because pace means basically nothing; all I need to really know is time and elevation.  I thought as Leadville grew closer (Holy crap it's getting close!), I'd enter a few hilly trail races to use as long training runs.  Get me away from creepster old dude.  Put me in an environment where I am forced to keep moving forward ....no ...matter ....what.  No more road racing here on out to Leadville (let's just not count the 5k I'm doing Sunday ;)), I'm entering the zone where every mile - on the trail - is really, really REALLY vital.

Since I know y'all stalk my blog daily (no offense, but the number of daily hits are dwindling rapidly.  Actually, I don't follow my stats, I don't really care - It was just perfect timing to use "no offense" again :)). you've seen I had two trail races since my last post.  Let's just do a quick recap, since you're chomping at the bit to hear all about the glorious triumphs (aka: I am still alive).

Cheyenne Mountain 25K, April 27th (15.44 miles, 1821' vertical)
I went down to Colorado Springs a couple months earlier to run some of the course with my friend, Kathleen (the .01% of the time I get to run with someone) so I had a little bit of an idea how challenging it was.

For some reasons only known to those who work for Garmin (no offense, but Garmin folks suck), my elevation profile display actually worked for once (normal display is flatlined, even if I run 3000', or more) so I get to share it.  Starting on an incline was challenging and I worried about my pace and if my effort was too ambitious.  Since the trail was a single track so for a good mile, my pace was at the mercy of those in front of me.  But it soon thinned out eventually and I could do my own thing....but the problem was, I wasn't really sure where my "own thing" needed to be - this thing had to be run on effort, not pace, and I couldn't get a good reading of my body and what it needed to feel.  I was running with my friend, Aimee (who I've never gotten the pleasure to run with before...an awesome triathlete who is the kindest, sweetest woman) and we were trading positions in front for the first 4 miles.  When we got to the aid station at mile 4, I told her I was pulling back, I thought my effort was too hard, yet a half mile later, we came upon a sweet little descent (finally), and I felt my effort was too easy, so I took off and I left her.  My "effort" was all over the map and I struggled to feel exactly I needed to be.  Inexperience was evident.

Myself and Aimee pre-race.
That last climb from mile 7.5 to 11 was a doozie, and the terrain became pretty technical with large outcrops of rock.  I learned from my awesome hill running clinic that I just needed to put my head down, place hands on knees and use them to push down and power-walk this sucker when it became too beastly to run.  I found that my power-walk was actually as fast as most running around me so I wasn't losing too much ground on people (important for the competitive freaks like me), and bonus: once I'd get to the top of the uphill, I wasn't so winded like everyone else, and I was rewarded with an enormous amount of strength in me... I started passing people like it was my job; it was incredibly empowering.

When I got to mile 11, I stopped to take a salt tab and a guy passed me who told me to come with him.  He looked strong and I knew he was my meal ticket to finishing the last 4 miles well, so I clipped in behind him and we shared a few laughs together how I was his wingman.  He was all for it and so encouraging to me.  We were flying down this mountain, and climbing strong the hilly parts - I was having a blast, finally, and my stupid head stopped playing mind games with my effort.  With a little over a mile to go, we came to the last aid station and I grabbed some electrolytes (both calves cramped up a mile earlier like a total mother ..), gave my speedy pacer the thumbs-up (with a nod of approval from him) and off we went.  It only took a minute before the finish line came into view ... and no offense, but I dropped my pacer like a once bad drug habit (not that I have any experience in that arena).  I actually felt a little bad about using him to drag me to this point, but that thought only lasted a microsecond; he told me to gun it in if I had it in me, and somehow I did.  I sprinted like it was the last lap of my old infamous mile races from eons before and I crossed - feeling pretty dang satisfied.

Um, yeah...that's a podium 1st place 50-99 age group finish, thankyouverymuch
2:40:49
AG: 1/9
Female: 14/100
Overall: 50/188

Greenland 50K, May 4th (30.81 miles, 2198' vertical)
Ah, Greenland 50k, my first completed "ultra" distance and longest run I've done to date.  It should be ranked up there as one of those greatest accomplishments in my running career, but I'm not sure it honestly was.

The website describes this race as:
"Colorado’s fastest 50K! With Pikes Peak as your backdrop, you’ll cruise over a soft dirt trail on your way to a new personal best.  The entire course is run on dirt trails. With wide, smooth double track trails, the Greenland Trail 50K is a very fast course and also very beginner friendly."
Let's review that statement from my perspective and compare:
Pikes Peak was definitely my backdrop (gorgeous, blanketed entirely in white).  I did not cruise, I felt lethargic from step one.  The dirt wasn't exactly soft, the first 3.5 miles (times 4, because this was a 4 loop course of 7.75 miles each) mimicked something more like a walk along the beach in thick, heavy sand.  It was absolutely not fast.  And if this is a beginner friendly course, then I'm going to die in Leadville.  I did get a personal best though (hard not to when it's a new race distance), so I'll walk away with at least one check mark in the positive category.

At the start line, terrified
My friend, Bob, who I happened to run into before the race
(he finished 23/238 place).  Incredible runner
with an incredibly warm heart; he waited after his 25k race to help me

 right after my 3rd lap
Greenland really wasn't a bad course - it was actually very beautiful and the 4 laps didn't bother me mentally whatsoever, like I thought they would (just the climbing Everest 4 times is all).  But something was off I and struggled to keep a consistent paced time each 7.75 mile lap.  Instead of pulling back when I felt labored early on, I instead pushed through those difficult miles, trying to maintain a pace which felt more like a tempo run than a long, slow ultra paced run, even though my watch read a number far slower than my base paced training runs.  Red flags were billowing in my head but inexperience at this distance told me to ignore them and it'd get easier.  I'm not sure where I got that idiotic idea, it's not like any marathon I've ever felt too fast at the start ended in a glorious finish, so why adding an extra 5 miles to any marathon distance I've done is going to miraculously get easier was beyond me.  I just didn't know what to expect, I guess, and went with a pace in my head instead of an effort. Stupid watch.
Lap 1: 1:14
Lap 2: 1:15
Lap 3: 1:19
Lap 4: 1:21
When I look at those stats I pulled from the website, they don't paint a picture as to what I actually experienced.  I felt like I pretty much succumbed to the proverbial death march around mile 24 and could only muster a few runnable yards here and there as I climbed up - and up and up.  I long ago turned the 'pace' display off my watch - I didn't want to look at that nauseating number; all I wanted to see was distance, and somehow try to get my head out of the bowl of mush it was swimming in. I started lap 4 trying to be cognizant of where I was in that moment and bare witness to all the glory that surrounded me instead the initial dread I was beginning to feel.  I remember looking at the mountains and feeling so blessed to live in such a beautiful place.  I remember hitting the last aid station, which just so happened to be placed precisely at the marathon mark, around 4:25:something and being pretty damn pleased.  I remember climbing the last vertical climb of the day, smiling, that I still had the strength to do it.
I remember reaching the top of the last climb, knowing I had two heavenly miles of downhill to the finish.  Downhill running must be my strength, apparently, because somewhere, I found the energy to run - HARD - again....and man did I run.  The race had thinned out considerably by now and only a few souls were scattered here and there, so I put my head down, ran as fast as I could, and picked off everyone I focused on.  I ran those last two miles in a sub-8:30 pace (I checked my Garmin later :))....on legs that were absolutely spent.  If I walk away with anything good spent in those hours on the trail, it'll be the remembrance of those last 2 miles...

They taught me that I do have a lot more physical strength in me when my feeble mind tells me otherwise and I am capable of so much more than I think I am.

5:11:11
AG: 3/9
Female: 8/30
Overall: 50/125
I won a gift certificate for coming in 3rd to a local running store :) 
I cannot express in enough words how thankful I am that my friend Julie came down to help me with this race.  I knew my head could land in a heap of trouble if I let it after each lap, it was so comforting to have Julie there - that familiar face of comfort that I had hoped I provided for Tim in Zion.  She let me vent about the "F-ing course" after my first lap and was always upbeat and positive.  If it hadn't been for her enormous hug she gave me at the finish and stating how proud she was for finishing my first ultra, I'm sure I wouldn't have been the emotionally teary-eyed marshmallow I had instantly become.  Thank you, Julie - I sincerely appreciate your long day out there for me and you helped me realize that though this day was much harder on me mentally than I ever imagined it'd be, I accomplished something pretty crazy amazing.

I did it, I ran my first ultra....and honestly, it wasn't nearly as bad as I let my head think it was.

I have a lot to figure out about pacing and fueling and everything-ing before Leadville.  But one thing I am not going to do is beat myself up further about is the pace.  It is not my goal to cross the finish line of these lofty races with a specific pace; pace is a reward of the vertical work I still have yet to do.  Instead, these races, and the hefty upcoming ones, are there to teach me all the things I need to learn to make Leadville a success. It's as simple as that - I just need to get word to my head to accept this.  I am making significant gains in my training.....thank you, Tim.

Looking at those pictures of my kids above reminds me that training and racing isn't my whole life; it only enhances my life.

No offense, Jill's head, but she ran a pretty sweet first 50k.  So shut the hell up and get her get on with Leadville  training.

A last quick note: kuddos Ryan who just ran an incredible 1:58 anchor leg in the 4x800 and his whole team.  His smile says it all (second from left).
4x800 both girls and boys: New PRs and state qualifiers!

"Fill all thy bones with aches." 
-The Tempest's sorcerer-king Prospero

Run strong,
Jill