Running

A colleague asked me why I run races — it’s not like I’m going to win them.

And the answer is different for each race. And it often changes from the time I sign up for the race to when I cross the finish line.

I trained for my first, a 10K in New Orleans, as a healthy distraction from my master’s project. I ran my first half marathon to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I ended up testing my relationship in the process, as my running partner (and boyfriend) and I had different race mentalities.

After that, I kept running, mostly for the mental escape and runner’s high and pushed myself in the Denver half marathon. I shaved 21 minutes off my Seattle time and gained an appreciation for the strength I’ve built in the past two years. I celebrated that strength with girlfriends on a trail run in Napa.

This year’s Denver race tested that appreciation and, after 10 miles, my patience.

I signed up in May for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Denver marathon — the full 26.2 mile race. I was in decent shape and had a whole summer ahead of me to train. Training went well, very well, actually, until the second week of July. I ran a 5K, my first race in 10 months, and injured myself by starting out the gate too fast.

I hobbled through runs for a few weeks, trying to self diagnose because my health insurance doesn’t cover sports injuries. I realized I would lose too much training time to prepare for the full. Over a few weeks, the point of injury shifted and I realized it was my IT band. I started a daily routine of stretching, foam rolling and doing awkward strengthening exercises such as the clamshell.

I stopped running and lusting after running and enjoyed the things I could do — hiking, biking, walking.

And one day, I could run. I was determined to run the half. I fit in a few runs including a 10 miler. I was in no shape for a personal record, but I knew I could battle through it. My boyfriend, less prepared than me, agreed to run with me.

A scene from Seattle replayed in my head: 12 mile marker. He wanted to walk. I’m yelling, “We’re almost there!” He starts walking. I threaten to run ahead. I do. I stop, walk backwards to meet him. He says, “My legs hurt. I think I broke my knee.” I say things I can’t repeat here. This continues for the longest 12 minutes of my life.

Going into the half marathon, I was more nervous about running with a partner than I was about my muscles falling apart. I have done and do a lot on my own. I also enjoy working on group projects, but I get frustrated with them when what I think to be the most obvious, right idea is ignored.

And this is why I struggle to run with others. For me, running has been such a personal, individual effort where I control when to sprint, how far to run and when to finish. I may not be fast, but my excellent internal clock makes me a terrific pacer. My body knows it can run at a harder pace when I’m only running 3 miles vs. 6 and I sustain that pace over time.

Josh doesn’t run this way. He runs hard, slows down and then, just when I think he’s completely exhausted, has an incredible burst of energy that propels him ahead of me and across the finish line.

Knowing this I set a different set of goals for Denver: Run the whole way with Josh, pace him to a PR and finish injury-free.

Coors Field, Rock 'n' Roll Denver (Oct. 9, 2011)

My hips started hurting after only 6 miles. Josh wanted to stop after 10, but stopping made my calves hurt. I channeled my frustration into obnoxious optimism. “We can do it! Only 3 miles to go! Your legs aren’t broken! Let’s run to that corner and then walk!”

The Seattle race gave me the longest 12 minutes of my life — Denver gave me the longest 3 miles of my life.

Like all races, it eventually ended. Crossing the finish line, I realized we accomplished all three goals. It felt better than a PR.

Rock 'n' Roll Denver (Oct. 9, 2011)

And there’s always more races to run for those PRs.

My friend Jenni posted on Facebook for friends to sign up for the Warrior Dash, a trail run featuring several military-type obstacles, in southern Wisconsin.

Man, I thought, I would if I were closer.

Obstacle races haven’t reached Wyoming yet. Honestly, running races are scant and when I look for races, I always end up looking in Colorado.

A few days passed and I realized I had more vacation days left than I though, days that had to be used before the end of this fiscal year. I was already taking two days for a wedding in Missouri, but the four-day series running this week made it easy to take the rest of the week off.

And it wasn’t too late to sign up for the Warrior Dash.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t corral our siblings and friends to join us, so we battled the cold, rainy (and challenging) course on our own. The 5K course involved climbing a lot of 12-foot walls and hanging and dropping down on the other side — two things Jenni have never done and rarely do.

But we did it at our own pace and had fun, finished in about 43 minutes. The race was very well organized and I would definitely do another.

Before

So clean. (Sept. 18, 2011)

After

Post-mud pit glory (Sept. 18, 2011)

Oh, yeah.

When we finished (wading through a mud pit under barbed wire), the announcer saw our shirts and said, “We need some Kool Aid over here!” And spectators chanted, “Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah.”

It was a good time. Getting hosed down by firemen was not.

Even better: Changing into dry clothes before retrieving our free beer.

Long time, no post. I blame it on busy days at work — school starting and lots of state issues — and having way too many fun summer things to do when I’m not working.

I was a little homesick after my brother and dad visited. So the next weekend, my mom drove from Illinois to Wyoming. She brought her two little dogs.

It was really, really hard to let this dog leave me. (Aug. 20, 2011)

While Mom was here, we went for a 4.5 mile hike along the Bridle Trail at the base of the mountain. And, for the first time in a month, I didn’t hurt afterward.

Rewind: I hurt what I thought was my knee after running the Parade Day 5K way, way too fast and failing to stretch properly afterward. How fast? Try an 8:15 first mile — my PR 5K pace was about 8:40. I ran the first mile alongside a group of Marines, which should have been my first warning sign. Soreness went away a few days later and I attempted to run. I gimped through 5 miles and another 7 that weekend. The point of injury moved from my knee to the top of my quad. The next week, I (stupidly) ran 12 in New York.

I hobbled through two runs a week for about a month. When I saw other runners — especially younger, perkier, faster runners — I got insanely jealous and a little sad. I just wanted to run.

Harder than running through the pain was realizing I wouldn’t be able to run the full marathon in Denver next month. I signed up in May, intending to complete my first marathon close to home with friends and family cheering me on. I told myself I could always drop down to the half in case I didn’t get the training in. I didn’t get depressed, but I was pretty down for a few weeks.

After the hike with Mom, I dialed back, focused on strengthening exercises for my IT band. The injury made sense in hindsight — I stopped lower body weight training a few weeks before the injury, stressed all my muscles too hard in the 5K and didn’t cool down properly. I’ve hiked every week since and gradually added shorter runs in.

This week’s runs have given me hope that I can finish the half. My legs felt like new on Thursday and this morning I only felt a little pain after 4 of 6 miles.

So I’m back in the saddle with a modified plan that includes lots of stretching, foam rolling and trail running.

Back in grad school a few years ago, three of my girlfriends and I realized we wouldn’t be together forever or for much longer. We decided the best way to guarantee regular reunions every couple of years was to get together for each of our 30th birthdays and do something special.

One of us had the first birthday earlier this month (wasn’t me!) and we made plans to meet up in California where Andy lives. The weekend included some of my favorite things: wine, running, ocean time, laughter and food.

Pacific Ocean in Half Moon Bay. [Oct. 29, 2010]

Andy had to work, so Cat, Sarah and I toured parts of San Francisco on foot on Friday: Chinatown, Union Square, Fisherman’s Wharf. Then we drove north to wine country and had the most amazing dinner at ZuZu in Napa.

On Saturday, we drove further north to Bothe-Napa Valley State Park for a 10K/half/marathon race. We heard the Napa Wine Country race was tough, but we were not prepared for 2 straight miles of hills, narrow muddy trails and jumping from rock to rock across small streams.

Crossing a creek in Bothe-Napa Valley State Park. [Oct. 30, 2010]

The race was small (300 runners) and fun. The views from the top and smells while running past coastal redwoods were worth the pain felt in our quads the next day.

Napa Wine Country. Pictures can’t do it justice. [Oct. 30, 2010]

We soaked in hot springs in Calistoga, ate a huge lunch and stopped at a few wineries to taste bottles we can’t afford to purchase. Andy met us at our last tasting at Jessup Cellars (thanks – you guys were awesome) and we finally had a birthday dinner.

Sun-day stroll in Sausalito. [Oct. 31, 2010]

On the way back to San Francisco, we stopped in Sausalito for lunch a walk in the sunshine. We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge for a driving tour of the city before my flight home.

Before I knew it, it was time to leave, back to Wyoming, work, the election, etc. But the short weekend was just what I needed before a busy week.

Late review of the fantastic Rock n Roll Denver half/marathon.

Running past Denver Union Station early in the race.

The course started and ended in Civic Park so we could walk from our hotel to the race and back in minutes. Perfect weather — 60s and sunny — and the course was designed so only a few miles were run facing the morning sun.

The only goal I had for my first half was to finish. This time, I wanted to finish the 13.1 miles in 2:10, or a few seconds under 10 minutes each mile. I hadn’t trained enough to do it easily.

I met up with Buck, a former Star-Tribune sports guy and fellow native Illinoisan. We ran the first 3 miles through downtown Denver together before my shoelaces came untied and I decided it would be better to slow it down a little bit.

The sun came out after about four miles.

I maintained a 10-minute mile fairly easily until the 10th and 11th miles, when my hips started hurting. I estimate I slowed to a 10:30/11-minute pace, walking and stretching. At the 11-mile mark, I realized how close I was and picked up the pace.

I remember seeing the 12-mile marker and thinking, “Wow, it’s almost over already?” In this delusional, tired state, I thought I might sign up for a full marathon.

The course was mostly flat, ending with two downhill miles.

I finished in 2:11:53 — about a 10 minute mile pace and 20 minutes faster than Seattle. After a quick stretch, I refueled, walked back to the hotel, took an ice bath and showered. I made it back in time to see my mom cross the finish line.

I would run Denver again. The course was fun and varied. The bands actually played during the race, unlike in Seattle. My only complaint was that they put the bag check tables right next to the port-o-potties so long lines backed into the bag check area. My mom wanted some water before the race, but we had no clue where that stuff was. There were so many people we wouldn’t have been able to get there had we known.

Surprisingly, we all felt good the night and day after the race. My knees felt fine but hips were a little tight. I took it easy. They hurt about halfway through a slow 3 mile jog so I decided not to run until a 10K on Oct. 30 (more on that later).

Oh, and that strong desire to run a marathon — it went away once I stopped running and ate something.