The Long Run

Two months ago I had never run longer than three miles in my life.  When I signed up for this crazy thing called M*A*S*H the realization never really became concrete that I would be training to run 13.1 miles.  Somehow, I thought I'd do a couple of nice workouts a week, ask the trainers about an achy knee or a stiff muscle, then jog the 13.1 miles with energy in my legs and a smile in my heart.  Little did I know.

This journey has been a bit like uncovering a treasure.  I'm digging it up shovelful by shovelful, piece by piece.  Sometimes I'll uncover a truly precious gem...the one minute it took  Roland to explain to me about having your footfalls land in a line, rather than far apart from each other, is one of those gems.  Since adjusting my form my strides have become easier and, dare I say, a bit faster.  Another treasure I discovered is the advice I gleaned from "Jogging and Running for Idiots", (my cousin really snickered at me when I bought that one at a used bookstore in San Francisco...thanks for the support, Bach) which explained that those who are running a half or full marathon should not waste time with intervals shorter than 400m.  200m intervals are fine for those running 5ks, but longer intervals are more suited to longer distances.  When I started doing fast 400m intervals with 200m recoveries, I felt stronger and faster at the next long run.   A lightbulb moment.

One time, however, I uncovered something I didn't like.  I was browsing through the MASH website when I stumbled upon the training schedule.  I skimmed the Saturday runs and saw the plan...four miles, five, seven, ten...ten miles?!  Ten miles for a training run?  How on earth was I ever going to do that? 

My first long run was a four miler.  At the time I had no idea how far I was going.  I didn't even know where I was half the time.  Once around the river bottom, then to the first bridge and back.  I remember trying to keep another runner in sight for fear of getting lost.  I remember being warm and sweaty, and gratefully downing the water offered back up at the Eaton Trail.  Then Mike directed me to go "to the first bridge and back" to finish out the run.  I remember plodding along, thinking, "Where on earth is this gosh forsaken bridge?!"  Needless to say, I survived.

On the five mile run we had to run along the Eaton Trail to the gazebo and back.  I had such an irrational sense of exhilaration, and even joy, as I stood at the gazebo looking out over the bluff.  It was a first for me.  Five miles.  I was getting through.

Six miles was on the Old Clovis Trail.  Starting at the Medical Ministries warehouse, the trail took us along a shady path and across parking lots to where Jeff and Mike stood.  It's always nice to see them on a run-they either represent water or a turnaround point.  And a nice dose of encouragement.  I turned and ran fairly strongly back to the warehouse...then helped pack some medical supplies for shipment along with the other MASHers.  We learned more about MMI and came away with a deeper understanding of why we were running.  It was a real eye opener.

Seven miles was two days ago.  I was so freaked out about going seven miles I was singing gospel songs to myself as I was getting ready (as you FB people already know.)  Eaton Trail, left down the path to the road, then along the road to the Holloway (?) House.  I started fairly strong, but slow, and jogged most of the way with a friend, Heather, who was back after nursing an injury.  She walked most of the way while I jogged, which tells you a little about our respective speeds, although in my defense she's taller than me with longer legs.  It was hot, I was hot, I needed water, and my breathing and heart rate were fine but by the end of the run my legs were giving out on me.  If not for Kelly, who ran nine and a half miles then turned back to run the rest of the way with us, I probably would have walked my way in.  Instead, I picked up the pace and finished strong.  Then I gulped my water, drove home, showered, and fell in bed for a nap.  

So I have quite a few more to go.  Next month I think we're going to be up to ten miles.  Ten miles.  That's like from my house to People's Church.  That's going around a track forty times.  That's, for me, about two hours of running, about a thousand calories burned.  

As I'm sitting here in a cool house typing this, at least a month away from attempting ten miles, I say, "bring it on."  But check back with me three and a half weeks from now...I may be starting a whole new set of gospel songs to get me through.

"Pass me not, O gentle Savior..."

That's a good one.  I don't need anyone else passing me.  I'm slow enough as it is.

Until the next run...

Adidas vs. Brooks: Finding the Perfect Shoe, part 1

Remember back in the 90s when the Nike Air Jordans first hit the stores?  Finally, the answer to many young basketball player's prayers...the perfect shoe.  The formula was simple-beg your parents, find the store, find the size, drop the $100 plus dollars and hit the playground with a new swagger in your step.  With these shoes, a player could jump higher, run faster, and hit the basket with a one handed dunk, tongue out, spectators cheering.  Of course, many of these dreams were not realized on the court, but having the perfect basketball shoe went a long way in upping your cool status.  

Finding the perfect running shoe is a bit harder, and much more important, to an amateur runner training for an event.  The right shoes absorb the shock with each footfall (up to three times your body weight!) allow plenty of room for toes in the toe box, and last for miles without losing too much support.  Being a voracious reader, I had researched shoes when I first started jogging.  I learned about pronation, supination, and motion control.  I loved the Runner's World spring and fall shoe reviews.  I compared different models on the internet and browsed the aisles at Sports Authority.  But, due to expense and the fact that I was more of a recreational jogger than a "real" runner, I had never gone to a specialty running store to get fitted, which is the most recommended way of buying your first good pair of training shoes.

So after a long Saturday run and an informative shoe clinic at Sierra Running Company I was finally ready to take the plunge.  I had discovered that my flat feet caused me to over pronate, which led to painful arches and shin splints, among other possible injuries.  And it was true!  After every run in my cheap Nike cross trainers my arches ached and throbbed.  My poor toes were cramped in the front of the shoe, and my discount store inserts did little to support my non existent arches.  

I was concerned, at first, that I might have been buying in to the snake oil and sleight of hand of the crafty salesman, but everything I had learned at the shoe clinic was affirmed in all of the research I had done previously.  So with bated breath and a budget, my husband and I dropped the girls off at grandma's and headed to Sierra Running Company.

The store was fairly busy for a Tuesday afternoon.  We were helped immediately, however, by a young woman with a pleasant demeanor.  I was asked to walk in my socks to the front of the store as she knelt and peered at my feet and ankles.  She stood almost immediately and announced that I had flat feet and was over pronating.  She then walked briskly into the back room and returned with two boxes of shoes.  I tried on at least six pairs...Adidas, Brooks, Saucony.  The only brand that was conspicuously absent was Nike.  What, no Air Jordans?  Not even a Nike Shox?  But these thoughts were chased out of my mind the moment I stood after lacing up the Brooks Ariel.  It felt like my knees popped out into a more comfortable position and my feet were now resting in their proper place.  They were made, as I read in a review later on, for "heavy runners with flat-as-a-pancake feet", which described me to a T!  The shoes felt great, and my mind soared with the possibilities of pain free running, shaving minutes off my mile time, and soaring past the finish line with tongue out (I'll probably be really thirsty) and spectators cheering.    

The Brooks, however, were not cheap.  Even with my 10% MASH discount they were the most expensive shoes I had ever looked at.  And to a...I'll not say "cheap", I'll say "thrifty" shopper like me, parting with the money wasn't easy.  But this was an investment.  Training to run 13.1 miles in the wrong shoe would only set me up for injury.  And what would I accomplish on the sidelines with shin splints and throbbing feet?  With a little prayer I handed over the money and took the box home.  

Now to put the shoes to the test.