Sunday, April 25, 2010

Day something else: In which I learn a valuable lesson

(This was written two Saturdays ago. I got distracted before finishing and never posted it. Also, counting days is surprisingly hard.)

Today is a great milestone, my friends. A day I shall remember for all time, or at least until I'm done with this half-marathon. Today, I became a man. Or woman. Again. I think my bat mitzvah was supposed to be the first time I became a woman, but I'm not sure if God approved of my motives (party!) enough for that. The point is: Today, I learned what running is.

Let me back up, slowly. Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeep. Thursday night, I had a crazy idea. I would set my alarm clock to 5:00, get out of bed at 5:30, and get in some of what I thought was running before work. Since the actual Boston half-marathon is going to start at some ungodly hour like 6:00, and I have never woken up early for exercise, or anything else, in my life, I wanted to start preparing myself for that hurdle. It had also been so long since I had run for more than ten minutes or without giving up in disgust that I figured I could use a jolt like that to get back in the game. So what did I do? I took some Tynelol PM around 9:30 and got in bed, waiting for it to kick in.

People who have lived with me or know my sleeping habits or have taken Tylenol PM before are probably having a hearty chuckle over the idea that the above steps would lead to me waking up at 5:30, and further, waking up alert enough to move my muscles with any degree of coordination. Yeah, it did not happen. Thankfully, I had set some back-up alarms, and managed to get up and to the windowed door of my apartment building by 7:20 AM. As I looked through it, and saw the drizzly, overcast weather, I pondered if I should head back upstairs for a hooded jacket, or a non-white shirt, or maybe a nap. A nap sounded nice. But no! I had to be strong. Brave that weather like a woman and stop wasting precious time! (Translation: I didn't want to walk back up the stairs, and my keys were tied into my shoelaces, and it's sooo annoying to untie them, unlock the door, and then tie them back in.)

Due to my shortened timeframe, I skipped stretching and eating and warming up. In other words: everything that I need to actually run. Result: I did my alluring "hopping in pain" mating dance for 15 minutes, then came home.

That's OK, I thought. That was just a warm-up. I'll work out after work.

I went to a movie after work, and forced myself to go home around midnight. I NEEDED to make the next day's group training. It's been two months or so, and I haven't been able to attend any of them, due to sickness, travel, laziness, etc. I woke up at 7 on Saturday, caught the group right as they were leaving the meeting point, and commenced with the training.

It started with a giant circle of stretching, after which we did an "easy jog" over to the base of a hill that we were supposed to run up and down for half an hour. During that "easy jog," I quickly became out of breath and could feel the lava begin trickling up my squeaky wheel of a right shin. This did not give me hope for being able to run up the most challenging hill in Central Park (Cat's Paw, for anyone who knows the park). Six times.

Our coach, Jay, gave us advice on how to stretch out our legs if our shins hurt afterward. Afterward? I was too ashamed of my bum leg to tell him that my shins already hurt. We started on another group "easy jog" to the top of the hill so we could see where to turn around, and all I will say is that I did not enjoy it. When I was at the top, the pain had become so unbearable that I asked Jay what to do about my shins. (If you're getting sick of seeing the word "shins," be patient. It will all be over soon.)

When we got to the bottom of The Paw, Jay asked me how I run, trying to see whether I land on my heels and take big strides or take short steps and land on the balls of my feet. Turns out that my version of running, which is taking a normal walking stride and making it longer and quicker, is not running. It is also solely responsible for my cartoonish shin pain. He advised me to start taking short steps that land on the balls of my feet, bounce off of my heels, and then go off of the balls again.

This was like AP Calculus to my 11th grade self, except more frustrating. I knew I could understand calculus if I tried a little harder, it's just that it seemed too boring to put in the effort. With the running, I actually wanted to learn, but watching Jay's feet and trying to translate that into movements of my own was ridiculously hard. I was instructed to focus not on speed for now, but on getting my feet to land correctly. I slowly trudged up the hill behind the rest of the group, wondering why this was so hard, and how come nobody ever told me about this mysterious "proper running technique" before.

By the end of the sixth hill repetition, I was a convert. My legs were sore, but my shins were pain-free! I hope you realize how much of an achievement that is, after seeing how my shin splints take up half of every post I write. And this was after running up a fairly steep hill, which would normally make it worse. I thought the only way to get around them was to warm up by walking fast for 20 minutes, which is simply not feasible for most work-outs, and definitely not for right before I have to go run 13.1 miles. Then I make one change and a miracle occurs.

The one small sticking point was that I still didn't understand how my new stride was natural. Jay tried to explain it a little more to me, and then he asked me what I did when told to run in place. I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet, right? Well, that's what running is. Right then, I became not just a convert, but an evangelical. I've already told a couple of friends about this, and one of them tried it out and his shin splints were gone!

Running is running in place, minus the "in part" part. It's like Running for Dummies. And it only took me two months to find out.

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Hey, I'm not going this for my health! Well, I sort of am, but I'm also doing it to help find a cure for Crohn's and colitis. Please donate and help me get to Boston to complete my journey!

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Day Something: I attend my first race!

Emphasis on attend. As in, watched. There were almost 20 Team Challengers running or walking in the Scotland 10K on Saturday, and since I knew Friday night was going to be a late one for me, I signed up to cheer them on. I could draw on my vast experience as a sixth-grade cheerleader to provide vital support and also get my first taste of what an actual race is like. That taste was incredibly chaotic. We stood by the start for almost half an hour before everyone had passed us. It was craziness.

I was getting antsy watching 7,790 people run by as I stood still. Yes, I was also working those arm and throat muscles by holding up a Team Challenge sign and emitting bursts of "Whoo"s, but I would only rank that as a 13 (Somewhat hard [It is quite an effort; you feel tired but can continue]) on the Percieved Exertion Scale. I needed to get rid of some energy. We had 15 minutes before heading over to the finish line for the second round of cheering, so I dropped my stuff and jogged off, taking only my cell phone to make sure I got back in time. (Translation: I took my phone in case I got lost and needed to call someone for directions.)

I started north, on a path that was unpaved but at least was straight, so I could keep my meager directional senses from being overwhelmed. After a minute I switched onto a prettier, flower-filled path veering off slightly to the right. It was still basically going north, so I figured I was safe. I took one turn, asked myself if I should turn around and head back, but decided I could always use the buildings as my guideposts, and went off to be an adventurer!

As you may have anticipated, this was a mistake. I wandered around a giant fountain/lake hybrid, turned around, realized I had nobody's phone number to call for help, skipped frantically past Strawberry Fields (W. 72nd), and made an executive decision to turn... That way! That way! was how I thought I would return to Tavern on the Green, my approximate starting point (W. 67th). I ended up at the 5 mile marker, which I knew was on the opposite side of Central Park from my starting point (E. 72nd), and played it safe by following along with the 10K runners. I only had two miles left! How hard could it be to make it back in ten minutes? I did not want to wander back into that labyrinth of nature and risk turning my short run into a Family Circus cartoon.



This was really just a horrible idea from the beginning. I had on my old, floppy sneakers, I had not had any water, I had no map, and I had no idea how to get around Central Park. As best as I can figure out, this was my eventual route (click to expand):


I only ended up accidentally quadrupling the length of my intended run. Not so bad, eh? You'll be glad to know that my pains this time were back to being restricted to my right leg. I could feel the beginnings of shin splints coming on, but mostly it was my outer right toes that were squished and mangled by my ill-fitting sneakers. Ahh, right leg. I bet you'd been feeling left out, hadn't you? Welcome back to the fold.

When I finally made it back to the group, I was able to use those cheering skills by shouting out such helpful slogans as "Yeah kilts!" to people who had gotten into the Scottish spirit, "Whooo, Miami!" to someone wearing a U Miami sweatshirt, and "Way to go! Running! Whooo!" to the world at large. I'm a pro like that.

It was a little dizzying watching the waves of people pass by, searching them out for our orange-and-blue T-shirts. There were old people with more impressive abs than I will ever have, a few people who had on plaid tam o'shanters with obviously fake orange wigs glued inside of them (just like Bret Michaels!), a guy in boxers who had painted himself completely blue and red, an older lady who looked like a drama teacher in tight black pants, a tight black turtleneck and bright white sneakers, and some dude in a Speedo who had written the name of his blog all over his chest and back. Perky people, huffing people, nearly nudes, never nudes, completely covereds, people talking to themselves, and people giving sweet encouragement to their partner (ex: "I don't care how you feel, finish strong!"). Red-faced people, blue people, singles, doubles. It was like a Dr. Seuss convention out there.

After everyone from Team Challenge had finished, runners and cheerers headed out for brunch, which I avoided, because I wanted to get home, stretch, eat just a little for energy, and go running for real! What happened was that I got home, ate an entire bag of Pirate's Booty, and fell asleep around 2 PM. When my eyes peeked open again, they became quite confused at how dark it was outside of my window. A quick check of my cell phone, and all was revealed. It was past midnight. What can I say? 10Ks are exhausting, even if you aren't technically a participant.

I forced myself out of bed to soothe my growling stomach with some food, watched a couple episodes of Arrested Development on Hulu, and passed out again. This fair princess did not arise again until after noon, and if you consider "arising" to require some kind of movement from the supine position, then that didn't happen until 2 or so. All in all, I would not say those were my most productive 24 hours ever. But they also weren't my least productive ever! Victory!

Once this morning's breakfast settles in, and maybe after a short nap*, I'm going to go running, but I can't do much since my space-age shoes are stuck at work. I also don't want to bore you with the past ten days of nothing, because I haven't had much time to do anything. If I go during lunch, I don't have enough time to warm up and avoid shin splints, and I've been spending the hours after work either trying to set up my fundraising event or going out with people from work to say goodbye to two people from my team who are leaving for greener (and boringer) locales. (Just kidding, people who live in New Hampshire!) I don't know how much time I'm going to have until the fundraiser is over, either, but hopefully I can fit something in between my marathon sleeping sessions.

*I wish I were kidding, but the sun makes me so sleepy! My eyes are closing at this very moment.


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Hey, I'm not going this for my health! Well, I sort of am, but I'm also doing it to help find a cure for Crohn's and colitis. Please donate and help me get to Boston to complete my journey!