Grumpy

Friday now means track day. I decided "officially" today that I don't like going to the track. I had suspected this for a few weeks now. But now it's official. As I wove my way through the gates and made my way onto the track, I kept having the thought "I don't want to be here." But I was there and so I set out to do what I came to do - 2 x 200s, 2 x 400s, last 200 for s&g. My right quad is still sore (even as I sit here and write this) from Salsa Tuesday night. That I don't get... maybe I strained it. I feel like Seebo when I go down the stairs. It ain't pretty.

Enough with the excuses, here's how it went down: 200s both at 50... the second about half a second faster than the first. The 400s: 1:54 and 1:49. The last 200 - just under 50 seconds. I felt frustrated today. I still feel like the 400s are essentially an unknown quantity to me. I guess that will change if I keep doing them.... if being the operative word.

I was glad when it was over and glad to run home. The usual 5+... not sure of the time overall.

Re-tread

I had pretty much already decided last night that I would go to the gym and run on the treddy this morning. Leaving Salsa class last night, the air felt thick and warm... kind of like pudding... but not in a good way. My right quad was sore from these slow dippy things we have in the beginning of our routine. Plus I was dizzy. Dizzier than usual. They decided that now all single turns will be doubles and all double turns will be triples. Fabulous.

Waking up this morning, I briefly... very briefly... reconsidered going to the gym. "You should tough it out," I thought, "Run and embrace the armpit of summer." So off to the gym I went. Plus I wanted to throw around some iron.

It's been a while since I have done anymore than just a brief jaunt on the treadmill, so I was kind of looking forward to it. Did a warm up mile at about 9 min 30 second pace. Then I picked it up more and more as miles two, three, and four passed and then scaled back a little towards the end. I do like fiddling with the gadgetry on the treadmill - messing with the incline a bit, changing up the speed. Sometimes I feel like I can talk myself into pushing a bit harder on the treddy since I have visual 'proof' that I am running faster, at a steeper incline, etc.

All in all, did 5.75 miles in 50:40.

Flying solo

I really need to stop drinking on Saturdays. But, really, I couldn't help myself yesterday with good company, good wine, and more good wine. At least getting up this morning wasn't as bad as last week. The drinking had ceased several hours before bedtime and I was better about imbibing liquids that might actually hydrate me (though I'm not sure Fresca counts).

Headed out shortly before 8am to do the Tinicum figure eight. Amy is on the injured list at the moment with her hip acting up again, so today I flew solo. She and I attempted this route last week with not so much success. Today was much better despite my alcohol consumption. I kept waiting to hit the wall like I did last weekend, but it just didn't happen. I felt okay. Heck, I even felt good at times. Of course it was considerably cooler and much less humid, so I know that helped as well.

Not too much going on at Tinicum today. The usual suspects: several rabbits, a mouse or two, one box turtle, and lots of birds. A beautiful Oriole flew slowly past me. As I was running the second loop of the figure eight, I saw several photographers - some with real serious looking cameras and impressive lenses congregated around the bridge that spans the lake. I'm not sure exactly what they were photographing. Perhaps the amazing Pipsquack bird.

Just a good day to be out and running. I didn't mind being solo as it gave me a chance to reflect on the many blessings in my life right now. Yesterday I celebrated with wine; today I celebrated with running. Life is good. 9 miles in 82 minutes.

Uncharted Territory

I'm grateful for the break in the heat and humidity - makes for nice running. Back to the track today. My iPod was out of juice, so I left it home. Nice and easy two miles out to the track. I thought I'd change it up a little bit today, but not too much. Doing 200s has started to become familiar to me. I am getting more comfortable in knowing what that distance means - which, in turn, means that I can gauge better how hard I can push it. Given that reasoning, that explains why my times have come down a bit each successive workout... oh yeah, and of course, I'm getting faster.

As I made my way out to the track, I thought about a 400. Felt like uncharted territory to me... and it is. Not wanting to stray too much from the familiar, I decided to do 3 x 200s (with 200 recovery in between), then a 400, then another 200, just for shits and giggles. First three 200s were 50.8, 49.8, 49.4. I was pretty happy to get under the 50 second mark. Then came the 400 - I had no idea how to pace this really. The learning will come with time and practice, I suppose. Best I can remember, I did the 400 in 1min 49sec... I think. The last 200 was right at 50. A teeny, tiny little part of me thought about doing another 200 or 400 before heading home, but I didn't... had to get home and showered and ready to face the tyranny that is my job.

The run home was good - kind of fun ... did a little fartlek action. Again... about 5.25 in 46:30 total.

A Note about Salsa

I know this is supposed to be a running blog, and for the most part it is... but there are other areas of my life that are very important that feel like they deserve some equal time. Anyone who knows me knows that I have developed a bit of a passion for salsa (the dancing, not the dip.... though I do enjoy that too).

It began about a year and a half ago over a chance encounter while perusing Shakira CDs.... sounds cheesy and unlikely, but it's true. Since then I've dabbled here and there in the salsa scene in Philadelphia - mostly learning as I go. Well, I decided earlier this spring that I'd take a salsa performance class. Yes, that's right, I said performance. This idea brought me back to the ballet-jazz-tap days of my youth where dance recitals meant lime green sequins, whorish make-up on nine year olds, and four hour recitals that were the bane of my poor brother's existence.

Of course this is a wholly different experience, but the one constant is that it's a crap load of work. As "grown ups", we, the ten of us, committed to coming to weekly two-hour practices every Tuesday for several months. This may surprise some: almost every week, all the ladies are there.. and almost every week, at least two of the guys are missing. This does nothing but reinforce stereotypes that men are unreliable.

I'll state the obvious: It's hard to learn partner work when ya ain't got no pardner. On and off for the past few months, they guys have had sporadic attendance. Not sure how we're supposed to do a performance with no guys. This has been a source of frustration for me and that - coupled with the fact that the class ends late and I'm really too much of an old lady to be out that late - has had me seriously considering dropping the class.

I'm not a quitter though, so I think I will stick with it. We had a little discussion last night (all the guys were there!!!) about attendance from here on out. Hopefully I won't end up feeling like Charlie Brown when Lucy pulls the football away again and again. I'll keep my fingers crossed. In the meantime, I'm shopping for new salsa shoes. Whaddya think?

In these shoes?...... I doubt you'd survive.

Not all who wander are lost

I decided to switch my track day to Friday. The reasoning behind this is that I have my salsa class Tuesday nights, which goes until 10:30, which means I don't get home and in bed until after 11pm... which makes for a tired Reba. Somehow it's easier to get myself out of bed when I'm not facing the track.

While I regularly count my blessings to have a place like Tinicum so close by, I have to say that the neighborhood running around these parts leaves a lot to be desired. But, really, I haven't done all that much exploring. So today I decided to do a kind of meandering version of my Ridley Park run.

I wound my way through some of the back streets of Prospect Park, not sure exactly where it would dump me out. It wasn't too long before I started to recognize some things from a Saturday morning walk I did in Ridley Park a little while back. Crossing over a main road, I soon realized that I was approaching the lake in RP that I recently learned about. Just a few days ago, a young woman out for an evening run was accosted in that area. The good new is she was able to escape; the bad news is that while she was fleeing, she tried to enlist the help of a fellow citizen - a man reportedly in his late 40s/early 50s. The man told her that he did not want to get involved and refused to help her. Nice. Chivalry IS dead. Anyway.... I had fleeting thoughts about that incident and hoped that no one would try to steal me (in case you were nervous, they didn't).

Overall, the run was 'okay'. It was humid as hell this morning. The thunderstorms from last night seemed to do little but put more moisture in the air. I'll try not to complain... I'll try, instead, to remember the run that was my first blog entry - cold, windy, raining hard... miserable. I g-mapped it - 5.8 in 53 minutes.

Love Hangover

You can put two maraschino cherries and as much grenadine in a giant gin and tonic as you want… and it still won’t make drinking two of them (along with half a bottle of wine earlier in the evening) a good idea for the night before your long run. Didn’t seem like such a bad idea at the time, but when I woke up Sunday morning with that familiar sweaters-on-my-teeth feeling, I realized it probably wasn’t the smartest of moves. Amy was due over at 8:30 for a jaunt through the Tinicum figure 8… except she didn’t want to do the interesting part of the loop since she had an allergic reaction to some of the brush we encountered the last time we ran there together (and I won’t even go there with the jokes related to my last pass through that section… something akin to how we’re not into that kind of bush…there are a million possibilities.). So we did the boring part twice along with the upper loop – making more of a figure 9, I suppose.

I started out feeling fairly strong, much to my surprise given how I felt when I popped those two Advil about an hour and a half earlier. Amy was having a bit of trouble with her calf muscles not communicating or cooperating well with the rest of her body. We decided to split once we reached the bottom of the upper loop. She ran the outside part and I ran the inside, hugging the shoreline of the lake. The idea was to meet up and then double back along the outside of the loop. The section of the loop that I took – the one that passes Make Out Tower – has little shade. It wasn’t long before the blazing sun, the heat, and the breeze reminded me that there was water, water everywhere… but not a drop to drink.

By the time I caught up with Amy – about a half mile past the parking lot at the top of the loop – I felt not so good. I was thankful for the shade of this side of the trail. Soon it became one of those runs where you start making bargains with yourself. “Okay, just make it up and around the next bend and if you still feel like s***, you can walk for a minute.” But really, you just tell yourself that to keep you running because as soon as you round that next bend, you’re already renegotiating the terms of the deal. That was pretty much how it went for the rest of the run – making deals with myself to keep the forward momentum. And then we reached the boring part again. Another long stretch with no shade. Life was sucking a lot. I did, at one point, stop to walk for a little while. Why do I feel such defeat admitting this? Absurd. As Amy said, “If every run felt like this, I wouldn’t run.” Amen sister. Eventually we finished and were glad for that.

Waiting for us back at Casa de Reba (formerly known as Camp Seeba) was a deliciously sweet and cool mini watermelon. I don’t know why – but watermelon really is that much cuter when it’s mini. I sliced it up in short order for us to enjoy as we stretched and cooled down.

I don't have time to G-map this route. All I can say is that it was a very long 75 minutes of running.

Invisible Woman

When I awoke Friday morning, I felt like the crap had been beaten out of me. Since I was fairly confident that I hadn’t been assaulted the night prior, I blamed the chicken veggie fajita I had for dinner. Regardless of the source, it was an easy decision to stay in bed that morning. I knew the weather for the day wasn’t predicted to be too hot, so I figured I’d run after work, before heading out to the Camden River Sharks game that evening. I headed out to do the initial loop plus a little extra at Tinicum. Seebo had informed me that turtle season appeared to be over. That, combined with the mid-day timing of my run, I didn’t hold out much hope for seeing any wildlife.

I started out doing the interesting part of the loop and felt good in my running. Afternoon runs aren’t typical for me and I was enjoying the novelty of running while actually awake. I was having a good time finding that precarious balance between speed and safety as I ran the narrow and overgrown-in-places trail. Shortly after crossing the second bridge, I saw two people up ahead on the trail. They were just kind of standing there. Was someone hurt? Their posture was unusual. They weren’t walking. “If someone is hurt, I should definitely stop,” I found myself thinking. But it didn’t seem like anyone was hurt. The man seemed to be…. Oh wait…. Oh my… Nope… not hurt… definitely not hurt. I’m amazed they don’t seem to see me – am I that swift and silent of foot? The invisible woman. Shouldn’t one of them be on ‘look out’? As I got closer, I could not believe they were just carrying on – and REALLY did not see me or hear me coming. “Eyes forward, Rebecca…. You’re just gonna run on through,” And that is exactly what I did. Sure, it would have been priceless to see their faces as I went whooshing past, but I just couldn’t bear to look. I had seen enough already, trust me.

I finished the ‘interest part’ of the loop (now, truly having earned its moniker) and did the quarter mile (or so) stretch from the top of the initial loop to the bottom of the second loop and doubled back to do the boring part and then head on home. On my return trip towards the boring part, I saw my two new ‘friends’ headed towards me. Normally, when I see fellow runners out on the Tinicum trails, I offer a friendly smile or hello. But I wasn’t sure what the protocol was in this situation. Of course, part of me wanted to give them a wink and a thumbs up for gettin’ a little outdoors action, but instead I settled on a ‘knowing smile’ that I think effectively communicated something like: “Yes, I just totally busted you two with your naughty bits hangin’ out, but hey, it’s cool and good for you.”

Compared to all that, the rest of the run was uneventful. 5.6 miles in 50 minutes.

Hard Work

Just about everything this morning felt like hard work. It was hard work getting out of bed; hard work getting dressed/hair braided for the run; hard work getting out the door. Even my warm up - the two miles out to the track - which I consciously take easy, seemed like hard work. This was disappointing because I have been feeling good lately and actually looking forward to my runs.

Out to the track - slower than usual, I suppose. I didn't hold out great hope. I decided to *again* do the 5 x 200s with the 200 recovery in between. Went down like this... 52, 50.1, 50.5, 50.8... and the last one I messed up the timing somehow, so I have no idea, though I know it was slower than the prior three, maybe even slower than the first. My butt was kicked. I worked very hard for those times and was pleased (and surprised) to see them come down a little from last week. I felt like my heart would explode towards the end of those - especially the middle three. Not sure if I should stick with this routine for a few more weeks or change it up - maybe do some 400s instead.

The run home was, duh, hard work too, but not as bad as the way out and certainly not hard work like what I had done out on the track. I try to pick up the pace on the way home - just to get a little extra work on my fitness in. All in all, did the usual 5+ miles.

Amy is a Liar

You think you know someone. You tout their virtues and sing their praises to those who will listen. And then you find out the real deal.

I met Amy at her place this morning to do an 8 mile out and back route around her neighborhood. "There's only one hill", she said. As is usual, we spent the first two or so miles chit chatting - catching one another up on what's going on in our lives. Though I had never run this route, I was familiar with the area since this was pretty much my hood growing up. We even passed my old pediatrician's house/office on Manoa Road. Dr. Starkweather - he had snaggly teeth and the door knobs were 3/4 of the way up the door to prevent terrorized toddlers from escaping. He checked for squirrels in our ears and gave us a dum-dum lollipop at the end of each visit, so he wasn't all bad. Anyway... back to the run.

Knowing the neighborhood, I knew we were headed mostly down hill on our out route... which, of course, only meant that we'd be running mostly uphill on the way back. There was one sizable hill on the way out - and I think this was the hill to which Amy originally referred. I can't say for sure how many hills there were in total, but I stopped counting around four.

I'm sure Amy didn't intend to be a big fat liar. As she put it, she was lying to herself as much as she was lying to me. Of course, now that it's over, I can say it wasn't that bad, and really, it wasn't. Hills are good for us. I do need to do more of them.

Again, I'm thankful to have a good friend to run with and, afterwards, eat scones while doling out dating advice. And, Amy, if you didn't end things with him by the time you read this, you're in big trouble sister.

About 8 miles in 73 minutes.

Run Amonk

THE RED ROVERS

(BARB, AMY, REBECCA, JP, JUSTIN)

The brain has a remarkable power to 'forget' unpleasant aspects of some experiences - perhaps in an effort to get the body to repeat them. Childbirth is a classic example. If women truly remembered the experience, no one would have siblings. The Monk Run last night was a little like that. With temperatures in the 90s, high humidity, and a course that (in)famously brags about having 0.1 miles of level surface - there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

The Red Rovers, both true and honorary members, put in a valiant effort. Of course, I can't speak for any of their individual experiences, but suffice it to say, we all finished - some several minutes before others.... but we all finished.

All week I had been telling myself, "You can do anything for 5k". Somehow the thought seemed reasonable at the time. And, really, now, as I write this, I think, "Oh, it wasn't that bad." But really, if I try to let myself go back to those moments (that seemed eternal) where I felt like I was radiating more heat than the sun, when my heart was about to explode, where I was breathing heavier than Jenna Jamison... I think, "Yeah, it was that bad." Thankfully, though, it was over in 26 minutes.

Afterwards there was pulled pork, plenty of beer, good conversation with old and new friends, and (coincidentally) a band called "Red Head Betty". Heck, there were even some fireworks in the not to far off distance. The more beer I had, which is a rarity for me, the more the race seemed not-so-bad. As Seebo put it, the best races are the ones where people stick around afterwards - and that we did.

Was it the goat cheese?

Another hard-to-get-out-of-bed morning.... but I'm glad I did. We were blessed with absolutely beautiful running conditions this morning - cool, but sunny, with a nice breeze. I headed out to the track - as has become my Wednesday custom lately. I took it a little easier this morning heading out to the track than I normally do. There are a few inclines... we'll call them hills... en route. Normally, I'm somewhat of a hill charger (so I've been told, but I don't really believe it), but today I consciously took it easy - I'll have enough hills to contend with come Friday when I Run the Monk.

I did the same routine as last week (5 x 200s with a 200 meter rests in between) - again, keeping track of my splits as I just figured out last week how to do it. I thought about doing 400s today, but decided to at least do one more week of 200s in an effort to a) get more used to trying to run faster and b) get a better sense of my baseline at this distance (since I'm new to keeping track of the splits thing). It went something like this 53.7; 54.2; 52.7; 52.6; 52.7. I don't know if you're supposed to keep track of tenths of seconds... I'm not sure it really matters... but since I was able to remember it, I figured I'd put it down. Can't hurt, right?

I don't recall off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure that that is a few seconds faster than I did last week. Not sure what to make of that. I definitely felt better (and dare I say faster) than I did last week. Don't know really what made the difference - maybe it was because it was cooler, or maybe it was because I was wearing my lucky shorts... Couldn't have been the wind because, actually, I was running into a noticeable headwind. Maybe it was the hummus and delicious pear and goat cheese salad from last night's dinner that was fueling me. Who knows, but I'll take it.

The run home was good. Again... the beautiful weather was helpful and I felt good. Friday evening is the Monk 5k - which promises to be a challenge. Touted as one of the toughest 5k courses in the Commonwealth, the brochure for the race says that 0.1 miles of the course is flat. Sounds like fun... yeah. I'm sure a LBRR will follow from the likes of me, Seebo, and Ian.

Like last week, a little over 5 miles. I forgot to stop my watch, so I'm not sure of the time overall.

Club Red

In a futile attempt to beat the heat, Amy, Stacey, and I met at Lloyd hall at 7:30 this morning. We all agreed that the goal would just be to do the loop and not be SPRNTC about it. So we started off slow and just enjoyed some conversation... discussing dating, kids, exes, etc. We also decided that it would be a good idea to form a Redhead Running Club, since the three of us are, in varying shades and textures, proud redheads. Of course, we quickly decided that it would be a "natural redheads only" club. In thinking about a name for the club, I suggested the team name we have for the Monk Run next Friday - the Red Rovers.... but now I'm also considering Club Red, I kind of like that too.

After crossing over the Falls Bridge, I think we all felt a little better, knowing that we were already past the halfway mark and noticing a slight headwind that helped to cool us off. We made it back to Lloyd Hall in just under 80 minutes which wasn't too bad considering that we started out quite slow.

Again... another enjoyable run with friends and I felt really good (physically) at the end of the run. Don't tell anyone, but I was actually feeling like running a bit more. But now I'm home with a belly full of frosted mini wheats, strawberries, and soy milk... I don't think there's any more running on tap for the day - especially since it's only getting hotter out there. But a bike ride or a hike to see the turtles again.... maybe.

Eyes of the World

Some mornings, I feel like I could run forever and some mornings I need a little extra motivation to keep me going. The 'run-forever' mornings have been few and far between lately, so I have to find ways to keep myself on track. It really doesn't take anything spectacular or out of the ordinary to do so... just that little something.

Today it was having the eyes of the early morning commuters on me that kept me going. This is an old 'trick' I've used oodles of times. I purposely stay on main roads and keep in mind that if I don't make it to the top of that hill or slow down too much... I'll look like a wuss... and we can't have that. Now, I realize this is a completely narcissistic and ludicrous notion, but hey, it works. I do know that the folks driving in their cars/trucks/suburban assault vehicles are really just going about their business of the day and don't give a rat's ass whether or not I have a good pace going, if I make it to the top of the hill in good form, etc... if they even notice me at all. I do know this, but somehow thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'm being watched helps to push me a little harder than I might otherwise push myself.

I did the Wawa circuit again - Prospect Park to Ridley Park... with some neighborhood meanderings... and then home again... conquering that last 'hill' by the CVS, then winding through the back roads to the pumpkin patch. I may G-map it later, I may not... but I ran for 50 minutes... and hopefully that was enough to get out a bit of recently accumulated (accumulating) nervous energy.