The On/Off Switch

When it comes to pace, I've always said that I have only two: on and off. It seems to me that no matter how I feel, how long I'm running, how much I've run recently or what the weather is like I always run about the same speed. One day I feel like a speed demon, floating on air in perfect 65 degree sunny weather. Another day I wonder if I'm actually moving forward, my legs feeling as if they're made of pure lead and, of course, it's cold and rainy. But somehow, my pace on either day ends up being only seconds more or less than the other day.

Consistency. I guess it's a good thing.

Except when you're trying to run faster.

In my current training (for the NJ Marathon in May), I want to be faster. Abby and I began training together and from the start had a certain goal in mind. (It's running fast enough to get into this pretty well-known race somewhere up in New England.) We didn't talk about it much, usually speaking only in whisper and looking for wood to knock on if we mentioned it. We both felt that if it happened, great. If not, try again another time. No big deal. Despite our slightly complacent attitude, we definitely tried. Only recently, nearing the end of our training, we've realized we may have a shot.

We found a schedule to follow. And we've followed it, basically. We've done tempo runs, we've done long runs, we've done recovery runs, we've done trail runs, we've done track workouts. Despite numerous types of runs with different purposes, we still don't quite understand this whole "pace" thing.

Many schedules or training workouts have you run certain speeds based on your performance in races (5K, 10K, marathon, etc). The track workout that I wanted to do this week was 800m repeats at 20 seconds faster than a 5K pace. Ok, sounds good. Except that the last 5K I did was Race for the Cure in 2005. Running through the tiny streets of Philadelphia with 40,000 of my closest friends, I think I finished in just under an hour. Probably not a good judge of speed for a track workout. (Somehow I don't think that repeats at a 19:30 min/mile pace is productive or possible.)

Still at square one.

Runner's World online has a function that calculates your pace based on a goal time. Great. Plug in 3:40 for a marathon and presto change-o, paces. What we found out was that, by and large, we were doing a pretty good job. Except for one thing- our long runs. The know-all-and-end-all running gurus at Runner's World said that we should be doing our long runs at 9:26-10:39 min/mile.

Huh?

How does doing a 20 miler at 10 min/mile prepare you to run the necessary 8:23 min/mile pace needed in order to finish in 3:40 and qualify?? I just don't get it. I know that you will likely run a little faster on race day. A little faster. Not 2 minutes faster. Or even 1 minute faster. Remember the on/off switch? I've got two paces, not ten. It's a switch, not a dial.

Luckily, I'm not worried that my training paces haven't been exact (or even anywhere close) to what they "should" be. I've felt good- mentally and physically- throughout training. I've never paid close attention to paces in training and I've managed to do just fine. 14 marathons under my belt and my on/off switch is working as good as ever.

While discussing the pace conundrum on our last run, Abby and I determined that if we're "supposed" to do our long runs approximately 2 minutes slower than our goal race pace, based on our last 20 miler two weeks ago, we'll be running 6:43 min/mile in the marathon.

Deena Kastor, watch your back!

The Incurable Optimist

After years of attempting to describe myself (and consistently coming up with merely inaccurate, incomplete or wishful representations), I have found the perfect description. My dictionary definition, if you will.

Bess Staebler (n.) an incurable optimist

I should note that I did not come up with this. It is with apologies (or thanks) to Michael J. Fox for providing me with my new description. (It is the subtitle of his new book Always Looking Up.)

I have always been an optimist. It is one of the traits that I consider most admirable about myself. I am almost always able to not only see the silver lining, but believe it to be true. I've only realized the "incurable" part recently. I've worked with people who, on a good day, are less-than-optimistic- always assuming the worst will happen, criticizing others, believing that things won't be done correctly or getting angry over little things. I am not brought down by them (remember I'm incurable). Rather, it has made me realize the benefits and advantages of positive thinking. To spare you typical cliches I am, in short, a happy person.

Not that life hasn't brought me situations where I wonder "why" or think "life sucks," but I truly believe that there's a reason for everything (sorry, that cliche just snuck in there somehow).

Why is there horrible traffic and lots of red lights when I'm in a rush? To teach me patience.

Why does my best friend have to be in Ecuador for a year and I miss her dreadfully? To teach me that a friendship can grow stronger across countries, continents and hemispheres. And that absence really does make the heart grow fonder, even if it sucks while it's happening.

Why am I an only child, despite always wishing for a brother or a sister? To teach me the value of being alone.

Why do I have Celiac Disease and am deprived of so many yummy foods? To remind me that I could have it a lot worse. And because doughnuts aren't good for you even if you aren't allergic to them.

Why did I struggle so much because I was essentially unable to read (and comprehend) until I was 20 years old? To teach me how to listen and force me to learn in atypical ways.

Why did I get a stress fracture in my foot last year? To teach me to slow down and stop for a while.

And to conclude, in an ever-so incurably optimistic mood, I came upon this quote yesterday:

Risk more than others think is safe,
Care more than others think is wise,
Dream more than others think is practical,
Expect more than others think is possible.
-Cadet Maxim

An incurable optimist who risks, cares, dreams and expects more than most. That's me. In a nutshell (or a sentence).

Come Hell or High Water

or wind or snow or brutal cold or irrepressible heat, I'll run.

Today, for example, it was wind. And hell it was windy. And up hill. Both ways. Really.

I'm not one to get myself worked up over a weather forecast. Especially, in Philadelphia where one snowflake constitutes a winter weather warning and a shortage of milk and bread in the stores. Today, however, the well-paid meteorologists on TV said that it was going to be windy. Very windy. 30mph wind gusts. All day.

They were right.

But just as I don't get worked up over the weather, I don't let it change my plans. So I set out this morning to run at Valley Forge with Abby, Ali and the Team in Training spring race group. For anyone who knows the loop at Valley Forge knows that the first hill sucks. It's long and steep. Today, with the aforementioned wind, it REALLY sucked. Calling the predicted 30mph gusts "gusts" was putting it nicely. Gusts come and go. These stayed the whole way up the hill. Coming from the side. And the front. And overhead. At times it seemed like we were running in a tornado, not just "regular" wind. Fun was not a word that I would use to describe it. But we did it. And the wind died down a bit. Then was resuscitated and came back to life (conveniently on another hill). Then died down. Then came back. Then....well, you get the point.

Despite it, we continued running. Even when it felt that we were going backwards or sideways or both. Abby and I turned around a little early after determining that our "nice easy trail run" yesterday (that was actually 7 miles and more like an adventure race- torn wet clothes, fording flooded paths and bruised battle scars included) meant we didn't need to do the full run today. We finished- relieved, wind-blown and content- about 9 miles in an average 8:44 pace. (It felt more like a 15 min/mile pace, so I'll chalk this up as an excellent resistance workout.)

Today was one of those instances where I am reminded why I run. You can't play golf in the snow. You can't play baseball in the rain and wind (ahem, 5th game of the 2008 World Series). You can't go skiing in the summer. You can't go swimming in a thunderstorm. But you can always run. I've run a marathon in a Nor'easter. I've done a triathlon in sweltering 95 degree Texas heat. I've done countless runs in the rain. I almost never don't run because of the weather. If I do, I feel that I've let the weather win. It's the same reason that I don't own a real winter coat because if I wear a winter coat, it's admitting that it's winter.

Running is so simple: left, right, repeat. It's why I like it so much. And why I keep running. Come hell or high water.

Another one bites the dust

Once again, I'm without my full compliment of toenails. Back down to 9. (Really 8 1/2 if you consider that the last one to go isn't quite back in action yet.) Despite my wish to, for once, have a perfectly polished set of nails, the fact that I don't is a badge of honor. And, most importantly, proof that I'm not a wuss.

It was more than 6 years ago when I started running- and subsequently loosing toenails. Dozens of lost toenails, hundreds of hours, thousands of miles and millions of random thoughts later I've decided it's time to start writing some of my musings. Stories, experiences, feelings, recollections, opinions, descriptions, adventures and reflections have often left me thinking "you should write a book"- so I am (well, an online psuedo book). My intention is not to change lives or bring world peace, rather it is to clear my head of my internal ramblings. (Hopefully it will free up some space for things like the material on infectious diseases and antibiotics that I am supposed to have learned for my last pharmacology test.)

My intention is to write on a regular basis- not everyday- but often. I should forewarn: I am historically HORRIBLE at keeping diaries, journals, logs, etc. I am filled with good intentions, but lack the focus and motivation for a proper follow-through. Thankfully I never wanted to be a writer because I would be out of work and very poor. Here's to what will hopefully be an amusing and insightful collection of my chronicles of running. And last longer than the cool diary with a lock and secret code that I got for my 10th birthday. I wrote "Dear Diary" and that was it.