Run to be Fast.

So I should start off by saying that I can't believe I have not posted in 2 months, it felt like two weeks. The reason (and I think it's a good one) is that I was suffering through a grueling 2 months of graduate coursework compressed down into half a semester. I got some really good training in this spring and passed my big comprehensive exam, but not much else! Call me Hermit. 

Anyway, I'm glad to be back and what follows is some introspection about training... 

There were two recent instances that caused me to really reflect on the little voice that tells you to quit. The first was at the MIT track when I was solidly hitting my - albeit slower than desired - paces. These past few years it's been rare for me to make it through a whole workout, much less be able to maintain even pacing through reps. Most of this was out of my control from injury, asthma, or sickness. But on this warm tuesday night I could have called it quits at two sets. After all, I wasn't going as fast as I thought I was capable of at this point in my training schedule. But instead I took my full recovery jog and started into the third set, legs aching, face hot, and came out on the other side feeling accomplished. 

The second instance that called my attention to the anti-motivation devil on my shoulder was, surprisingly, a shout from a homeless man. During what was a pleasant run around Boston with Ben ended in annoyance after this man shouted at me "you don't need to keep running, you already look good". It peeved me because 1) getting catcalled is one of those frustrating and sometimes frightening realities of being a female runner and 2) I don't run to look good, my motivations are so much deeper and to assume that I'm only out there for superficial reasons is an icy insult to any runner. There is such a deeply entrenched social stereotype about women logging miles to chase impossible beauty standards. Some days I wish I could wear a t-shirt that screams "I'm running to be fast, not skinny!". But, sigh, I'll have to settle for giving the dirtiest looks (and the occasional snot rocket) in the direction of those irritating catcallers.

Recently I've come to realize that I had become too close of friends with the little voice in my head telling me to "take it easy". I get it. Not so long ago I ignored the voice telling me "you're too sick to work", but I succumbed to the pressure to work despite being sick, and got pneumonia. Before that it was "your shins are so sensitive, stop running!", but I convinced that voice that I just needed some soft trails. That I needed some cross-training and stretching. That I was standing up too much. And then, that I needed to only run on workout days and races, it was only a tibial stress reaction (read: pre-fracture) after all. And then, 1.5 track seasons later, the little voice screamed "if you won't listen to me, I'm gonna blow your calf up to the size of a grapefruit!". It did. And I listened. Crutches, a boot, some doctor appointments and lots of rehab later, I was back.

It wasn't all a loss; I gained the superb ability to listen to the warning signs. Nagging pains are not to be ignored and this led to some good things. Stretching! Icing! Hip strengthening! Proper form! But beyond that, the little voice told me when I needed a rest day, a shorter lift, to skip that last set, that last mile, that last push which turns you from a mediocre runner to a fast runner. 

Hold up! That last one is exactly what I'm trying to do. Run fast! Guess what little voice, your reign is over. Sure, I'll take your advice, but it's gonna have to swim through the boiling fury that is my racing blood. If your message is strong enough, I'll listen. If not, well, hold on for the ride because I'm not slowing down.

4x400m NE DIII's 2010

Sincerely,
Robyn "can't stop won't stop" Runner

Race Recap: Columbia Remembrance Day 5k

It's 2-for-1 week on our blog! AKA I finally write something and stop leaving all the slack to Rachel the superior blogger. Let's hope that her blogging skills help her in joining the Oiselle family (good luck!)

Yesterday a miracle happened. The stars, planets, sun, and every dust mite aligned in some sort of fortunate accident and I had both the weekend AND the federal holiday off! (You'd think that I'd work fewer federal holidays given that I work for the federal government...)

With just about everyone I know scattering off to the beach for the long weekend, my only plans involved running. To kick off the weekend, I had a delightful run with the one and only Morgan -squirrel aficionado and law school year 1 survivor - around the National Mall. It was the end of a 44mi week (hey that's a lot for my mid-D legs!) and I was really feeling the fatigue. On Monday morning I dragged myself out of bed extra early to do a little local 5k in Columbia, MD. It was 75 and humid with some hills in mile 2 but nothing drastic. Didn't have a good idea of how this would go, but I was hopeful that I'd run something around 20 flat. Took it out quicker than I knew I'd be able to sustain: on purpose. Coach Dad suggested going out at 6 flat and seeing how far I'd make it. I went with this but opted  for a bit slower 6:15. Pretty much totally ran out of gas at about 1.5mi, so the rest of the race was quite miserable/embarrassing and no kick to be spoken of. This is what I like to call a "character building day". In the end, ran something around 20:45, won $35 for my age group, so I broke even and got my first race back out of the way. What I learned from this is that I definitely need to nudge that pain threshold over the next few weeks, I've gotten soft over the past (too many) months it's been since I was seriously training and racing.

Random note: thought I had some Columbia stalkers out there after hearing several people cheering for Robyn. I decided about halfway through the race that the woman running with me must also be a "Robyn" because the only person I know in Columbia is my boss and none of these people had an Israeli accent. She was indeed named Robyn, and with a Y!

Coming soon: Seltzer Intervals or "Lessons on how to scare people off the track"

Track Crazies

"For something to hurt that bad, and feel so good, it's just inexplicable"-Adam Goucher

Every so often, a runner goes crazy. She intentionally decides to inflict hurt upon herself, to put herself on the line, and risk disappointment. Sound familiar? This is the track workout.

Recently, I felt myself heading down this path. Frustrated after a hard day at work, I felt the need to relieve some stress. Although I had been craving some local ice cream, my thoughts immediately went to the track. For some reason, the idea of pounding out 400s on the track, rounding those corners again and again, gasping for air, legs heavy from lactic acid, appealed to me. Oh yes, its masochistic. But at the same time it feels fantastic to leave it all on the track. I knew that if I could get through this workout I would feel so much better.

Yesterday I almost didn't make it. It threatened to rain, and then did, and I considered scrapping the workout and biking at the gym while watching old episodes of SNL. But in the back of my head was the reminder that I wanted to run fast, and that this doesn't happen overnight or on its own, so I laced up and headed to the track. I'm working up to this 10k in a week so I went for a classic 10k workout from college: 3xMile. Like my last race, I didn't know what to expect for this workout. I figured I'd aim for 7:45 pace and try to dip down the last mile. As I started my first rep, I realized I hadn't even calculated my splits, and since I am not great at math, I had no idea what to shoot for. Having been on the track probably a thousand times, there are certain benchmarks: 1:30 for 400 is 6:00 pace, 1:45 is 7:00. But what if I wanted to run 7:39? Forget it. I started out at a comfortably hard pace and didn't check my watch until the first quarter. The math still eluded me but as I saw a 1:49, I knew that this would be a good workout. And so the chase began. On the one hand, I was pushing myself hard, constantly reminding myself not to let up on the back stretch, and to use my arms to motivate my legs. On the other hand, I didn't want to be disappointed; it was only a track workout after all, and it was just me out there.

I split every 400 and even as my splits dropped, I continued to feel good. Between miles I took roughly 1 minute rest, and felt heavy, droopy, and queazy in the thick, spring air. But once I stepped back on the track and began again, the humidity would fade and I could focus once again. I clocked two miles in 7:14, 7:15, with the first mile being my new post-broken leg mile PR. After mile 2 I felt good and decided I was going to go for sub-7 for my third mile. I started out a little harder than I had before, and crossed 800 at 3:32, slightly above 7:00 pace. I dug in, faced the wind and rain around the corners, checked my watch with 200 to go, and went for it. I do not have the best kick, but dammit I wanted a sub-7 mile. I may have groaned out loud as I crossed the finish line (I did). 6:58. This is a post-broken leg PR that I can be proud of.

What I'm most excited for, though, is the difference between this workout and my 5k race just a few short weeks ago. I'm not saying that I could average 7-flat for 6.2 miles next weekend in Providence on a hilly course, but now I have confidence in my ability. Throughout the workout I reminded myself that it was only myself holding me back. Not my legs, not my training, not the weather or the road conditions. If I want to run fast, I can.