Half way there!!!



This post will be short and sweet.

I’ve been fighting a cold all week and I finally seemed to turn a corner today.

I got up at o’dark early and went to the gym to squeeze in a few miles. I knew I was close to the half-way mark — 885 miles — on my log and my goal of virtual running the distance from Denver to Boston.

To be exact I needed to run seven more miles to reach 885.

I didn’t plan to get seven miles in today, but I figured doing something, even a few miles, was better than nothing at all.

To my surprise I woke up feeling a whole lot better from my cold. I was nursing a sore hip and it, too, was better. 

The laps at the indoor gym went much smoother than I expected.

Before I knew it I had run 70 laps around that darn track (it’s 10 laps to one mile), the equivalent of seven miles, to put my mileage at 885, the half way point, today! 

I will begin my offical training for Boston next week. While I still have a lot more miles to go in the next 19 weeks I am feeling positive.

WOO-HOO!! I’m half way there!!!

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage today: 7′ Denver to Boston miles logged: 885!! Miles left to go: 885!!

“Big Bad Gunslinger”



“All calculations based on our experience elsewhere fail in New Mexico,” Lew Wallace, author of Ben Hur, in 1881

Wallace said it but anyone who’s called New Mexico home can confirm it, including me. 

There’s no other place on the planet like New Mexco.  

What other U.S. state has its own official question: “Red of green?” As in, how do you take your chile? (I’m not making this stuff up. I worked for the New Mexico legislature for a session.)

The correct response: Christmas, which means a bit of both and the way I like it.

It was in the “Land of Enchantment” or “Land of Entrapment” (for those of us who eked out a living there) that I ran with none other than the “Big Bad Gunslinger” himself, Hal Higdon.

Actually, the “Big Bad Gunslinger from out of town” is not what I called him or the way I thought of him, but how Hal Higdon  referred to himself in a cyber piece about running with me on his visit to Santa Fe more than 10 years ago.

He found me, or I should say someone to run with (can’t say it was me in particular he sought), through the local running club, which it turns out I was the president of at the time.

I don’t know if it was his “big bad” reputation (he ran a 2:21 marathon PR in his heyday) or it simply didn’t work out for anyone else’s schedule, but he got middle-of-the-pack me, not some younger male verson of himself, by default.

Poor guy.

So here’s where the Lew Wallace quote fits into the equation with Mr. Gunslinger.

We didn’t run on official trails, per say, but as anyone who’s spent significant time in New Mexico, and Santa Fe in particular, knows, only the best neighborhoods have dirt roads.

Again, I’m not kidding or making this up or being sarcastic.

Truly, there are many, many exclusive, beautiful homes in Santa Fe, these charming old adobe abodes as well as “fabodes” on steroids (the newer fake adobe ones), all on dirt roads.

People spend beaucoup bucks to build them, then rely on the city or county to grate their roads regularly, especially in the winter, to get out of their driveways.

And the best way to get this done? Buy doughnuts for the local guys who’s jobs it is to do this for you regularly.

Again, I’m not kidding. That’s how things work in New Mexico.

Anyway, the area where I took Hal, mainly the north and upper east sides of Santa Fe, is mostly unpaved so you sort of get the benefit of trail running on dirt, minus the single track.

To compensate for the lack of single-track ambience, however, you get plenty of angry local drivers who try to run you off the road. 

That’s whole other post for another time. …    

I took Hal on what my friend Suzanne called “Danica’s Run” because I made up this course.

It started at Fort Marcy Recreation Center in Santa Fe and wound itself up and through neighborhoods off the ski hill road, on ski hill road for a bit, down to upper Canyon Road, onto Canyon Road (yes, the famous Canyon Road with all the famous artists and galleries), by St. John College, through town and back to Fort Marcy.

It wasn’t all dirt but probably about 75 percent was and some steep grades to match. It was one of my favorite runs in Santa Fe and he liked it, too.

I can’t say my pace impressed him but I think my choice of course and the views did. We enjoyed our conversation and he sent me a copy of the article he wrote. 

So there you have it, my brush Mr. Gunslinger and one of my favorite unofficial trail runs in Santa Fe.

I came up with “Danica’s Run” in the era before Santa Fe’s Dale Ball, which was written up in Runner’s World, was built. I will talk about that particular trail yet in another post.

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage yesterday: 6.2; Denver to Boston miles logged: 868.4; Miles left to go: 901.6

The high road, part IV: Mind over cesspool

“Mom, when you do the right thing, you’re a good guy, and the good guys win, right?”

Gulp.

Jane’s question after her Brownies meeting gave me pause.

How could I answer her? How could I teach my 8-year-old that I believe in making the tough choices, even if some of the world doesn’t value character or decorum? How could I teach her that hard, honest work (physical and mental) pays off?

“Yes, honey. In our hearts the good guys will win,” I answered. 

Running on flat ground is easier, and so is avoiding conflicts. Life is often not fair. People cheat and do crummy stuff and get away with it. (Think Bernie Maddoff. Yes, he got caught eventually but not before creating a lot of damage.)

I didn’t want to tell her this yet because no matter how lopsided things can feel, I still believe in navigating the high road. It builds our physical bodies and characters.

Demonstrating this in the real world, however, can be challenging. 

As a mother and athlete I struggle to find positive role models for Jane to emulate, especially younger female ones. Our internet-driven, anything-goes world is enamored with celebrities. And sometime it feels to me like the cesspool of humanity is the only thing rising to the top.

The other day I stumbled accidently on an internet segment of Serena Williams lobbing the f-bomb better than her tennis racquet at the U.S. Open in 2009.

Was that the high road? I wouldn’t say so, but I got sucked into viewing it like many other people.

I could digress more but what is the point? I can’t change people. With newspapers, readers often gravitated to headlines of “bad news” even when they complained about them.
 
Today the same stuff gets high clicks. The format has changed but not human nature. By joining the blogosphere I hope to promote some civility again, whatever comes from this blog.

I remember one of Jane’s teachers telling me it takes 10 positive comments to counteract one negative one dealt to a child so the good strokes, just like hill work, are worth doing. 

The only thing I can do is be my own word. I don’t reward bad behavior in my children and I make a point to avoid similar content when I can.

Hills take mental and physical strength and so do the tests of our everyday ethics and humanity. Both are worth mastering to me. That’s what I will tell her as she grows up.

When I see a hill on my running path I pick a benchmark to reach. I repeat to myself, “You can do it. You can do it.”

I give myself an “attagirl” when I get there and then shoot for the next benchmark. By breaking the hills into workable parts I summon my strength and courage.

Likewise I strive to make ethnical choices. I’m no saint and I do the best I can. It may not get me rich, but usually I can sleep with my conscious at night.

The other day a friend asked my advice when dealing with her own conflict. I told her it never hurts to take the high road. The next day she called to thank me.

We grow when we face the bumps, not run from them. That’s how winners climb to the top.

And that’s what I will remind Jane and myself.

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage yesterday: 10; Denver to Boston miles logged: 830.5; Miles left to go: 939.5.



The high road, part III: Mountain goating 101



OK, repeat after me: “We love hills! We love hills! We love hills!”

When in doubt in life, fake it until you make it. Then one day, before you know you it, you actually become what you want to be if you are adamant enough.

That’s how I qualified for Boston. I did not give up.

Now that I know what’s coming for me at Boston I am taking a similar approach.

For me information is knowledge and power.

After searching the web I found this Runner’s World article on what they consider to be tough hills on some of the country’s most popular races: (“Sublime climbs”)

Now here’s a bit of coach speak on the art of mastering hill running. (I completed my RRCA certification a few weeks ago.) If you want to succeed at hills, rope a mountain goat, tie the end of the rope to your waist and run with the goat leading you.

Just kidding.

Instead, simulate in training what will be on the race course.

In other words: it’s attitude over altitude, plus hill repeats and other methods that support hill training. Call it Operation Mountain Goat.

When I approach hills I take shorter steps and look ahead, shoulders and back straight to crest the top. I usually make up for speed on the downside. Jeff Galloway, which I read up on recently, also recommends this. He, too, says it’s not about keeping the exact same speed going up but matching your effort level. (See Galloway’s approach.)

There’s a hill behind my daughter’s school (less than a quarter mile in length) that I use for such practice. Each rep is like shampooing at a hair salon: climb, crest, jog down, repeat, A set of six to eight is a great workout. (I do a few miles of warming up beforehand and a few miles of cooling down.)

It snows in Colorado so sometimes I hill train indoors. Some people run up and down stairs. That’s not my favorite but it’s there in a pinch.

I prefer setting an incline on the treadmill (2 percent) or using a hill mode option if the machine has one.

A third option is using the StairMill, which looks like an escalator. You can set your speed, intensity and duration. I do 30 minutes at a level 11 on cardio mode. It may not sound like much, but I sweat more than a broken water glass in a restaurant by the end. I love it. (Bring a towel and water if you try it.)

A fourth option is consist strength training with weights, and core work such as planks or crunches on a physioball. I find that it gives me more explosive strength on hills in addition to running the miles. 

Those are a few of my tips for preparing for future hillside battles. I invite you to share some of yours, too.

Tomorrow I will wrap up this series by talking more about the mental training on the high road.

Together we’ll climb to the top.

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage yesterday: 4; Denver to Boston miles logged: 820.5; Miles left to go: 949.5.




The high road, part II: Mountain goat mascot

Assume the fetal position.

That’s the poor signal my brain usually gives me involuntarily when I encounter hills on my runs and I’m feeling tired or weak.

A big part of my mental training these days is visualizing myself as a mountain goat — lithe, nimble, strong, and able to scale any terrain seemingly effortlessly at any time.

Goats were plentiful in the land of my ancestors. Perhaps me being the first of my family to be born in the United States explains why my mind and body want to go soft despite my gene pool. 

There’s not a single goat in my cushy suburban, cookie-cutter neighborhood. Go figure?

Yes, life in America in comparison is soft.  

Back in Eastern European, the origins of kin, no one had any choice but to face life’s high roads — real or perceived. The dirt roads into my parents’s villages were remote, rocky, unpaved, and you guessed it –steep.

My mother spent her girlhood shepherding her family’s flocks for survival on such terrain and the area wasn’t much different when I visited there in the 1980s. 

Those were the living conditions on a normal basis when times were good.

In the 1990s a civil war erupted in the region, which is why I haven’t been back. I have no idea the state of those roads today (chances of land mines are good), but I can’t imagine they would be any better.

People who lived there, then and now, had to be tough like those mountain goats to make it. Because some of them did, I am obviously here and alive today.

The irony is the mascot of the Boston Marathon is a unicorn, a mythical animal that most think of as resembling a horse. In many older depictions though the unicorn has the beard and hooves of a billy goat.

Horses have speed and fluidity. Goats can traverse the heck out of anything, which from what I gather will be needed at Boston.

My job now is to mold myself into a creature that is a bit of both.

I kind of like that idea. Yee-haw!!

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage yesterday: 5.5; mileage today: 3.5: Denver to Boston miles logged: 813.5; Miles left to go: 956.5.

The high road, part I

Hill work — I’m not good at it and I don’t like it, but if I am to conquer the Boston Marathon I better learn to roll with the hills, and roll with them, and roll with them, and roll with them.

That’s the conclusion I came to the other day after pulling up an elevation chart of the Boston Marathon course.

Yes, the first mile starts extremely downhill, but the course also goes up and down, and up and down, and up and down …

Well, here, take a look yourself: Boston Marathon elevation chart

And that’s all before the infamous “heartbreak hill.”

Then there’s a whole bunch of downhill … again.

On paper it looks like a roller-coaster ride at Elitch Gardens in downtown Denver and a potential quad-thrasher.

That is why I’ve started to focus on core and strength work this winter as I get ready. I’m thinking I should shore up my defenses wherever I can. Any perceived gain I might have won from training at altitude (5,900 feet where I live) will be lost to those rollers.

Winter is always a good time anyway for that kind of stuff since we get forced indoors here in Colorado because of the shortened daylight hours and the mercy of the elements.

It will be a challenge though because I will need to log the miles PLUS gain some extra strength.

By the time spring rolls around I usually feel like a caged hamster ready to run free in the woods after the long winter, being in the gym so much and running on the “dreadmill” over and over again.

For the next few posts I will talk about attacking the hills and the challenges of taking the high road, both the literal and the metaphorical, and why both can be good training.

My goal is to grow strong enough this winter to beat the curves and inclines ahead of me at Boston and elsewhere, instead of it being the other way around. 

Fastening your seat belts. It could get a bit bumpy ahead. 

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage yesterday: 9.5; Denver to Boston miles logged: 804.5; Miles left to go: 965.5.

No longer dying, now flying

Last night and today I ran my first two recovery runs without pain or my right knee ailing me anymore — hallelujah!

It’s clear to me now that perhaps running a marathon a few days after being sick to my stomach wasn’t the keenest move on my part but I survived it.

Now I’m on to the balancing act of my everyday life such as helping Jane with a school project. (She’s been on fall break for two weeks and goes back to school on Monday. Woo-hoo!) 

We’ve been taking pictures around town, writing headlines and copy, and designing “The Second-Grade News & Times” — a reflection of my old life before Tarzan came along. I explained to Jane how newspapers are put together and she thought that was cool. Then we began making our own for her second-grade community project.

Hey, maybe my journalism degree wasn’t a waste after all?

And here I was thinking my next career stop would be as the greeter at Walmart.  

As I’ve recovered from the marathon I’ve realized that I need to go with the flow more often and set boundaries with my family. I know that sounds like an oxymoron but it’s not and the two are compatible.

Rather than acting like the poor put-upon Donkey from Shrek — a sidekick who bears all the work load — it’s OK for my children to start taking some responsibilities for themselves. Yes, they are young, but they can begin to learn with small, manageable things. It’s better for me and them if they do this now, not later.

And it seems to be working with “the Dude” (aka, my husband), too. Last night he had a genuine MacGyver moment and installed the wi-fi on my new laptop, which I’m using now to write this post.

Note to any guys who read these posts: MacGyver moments go a long way in scoring Romeo points with the ladies in your life,

Last but not least, my new training mantra for Boston popped into my head today: “I’m not dying; I’m flying.”

I’m getting back to my old running self and it feels really good.

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes and let’s go.

Milesage today: 3.1; mileage yesterday: 2.5; Denver to Boston miles logged: 739.8; Miles left to go: 1030.2.

Make-or-break time

Today’s post will be short and sweet.

I’m feeling anxious. Tomorrow is the Denver Rock N Roll Marathon and the following day (Oct. 18) the Boston Athletic Association officially opens online registration for the Boston Marathon, April 2011.

Last year BAA entries closed fast and set a record.  (They opened in mid-September and closed in November.) 

An article a few days ago in The Wall Street Journal predicted a similar outcome this year. (I know I will be on my computer early Monday hoping to secure my spot.)

What was more interesting was the article’s other focus: Women’s BQ times being too “slow,” according to some and supposedly contributing to last year’s registration crunch. 

Right now the difference between men’s and women’s BQ times is 30 minutes. Some say women should have to run 10 minutes faster for their BQs to be more comparable, narrowing the gap to 20 minutes.

I doubt it would be a problem if they changed it.

Women go through pregnancy and childbirth; carry more body fat to help bring babies into the world; usually have primary parenting duty even when mom works full time and dad is in the picture; pay more for dry cleaning, clothes, hair cuts, health care cost, you name it.; and sometimes earn less for the same kind of work.

And a few people out there want to complain because women might get a slight advantage qualifying for a race? Seriously?

I say, bring it on. The women I know would simply run faster and rise to the challenge. I don’t think it would make-or-break Boston registration or change much. People will always pursue Boston because it is what it is. What do you think?
 
Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Today’s a rest day; Marathon tomorrow!! Denver to Boston miles logged: 707; Miles left to go: 1,063.

Pushing buttons

Our microwave oven is on it last legs. Whenever you push a button it does something entirely random like turning on the vent instead of warming up your coffee. 

Last night my body began to mimic my microwave, just four days before my next marathon. It left me panicked.

I planned to do a six-miler last night as part of my taper for this weekend’s race. When I pressed my “go” button I ended up sick in the bathroom. My run never happened.

While I was sick my mind raced. What if I was getting the Flu? What if I couldn’t do the race this weekend? Maybe this was a bad omen and I was destined to crash and burn?

It took lots of deep breathing to work through the sickness, first in my body and then in my head. I finally calmed down. I put a washcloth on my forehead and went to sleep early. My husband thankfully picked up the pieces and bathed both children and put them to bed.

I woke up with a much clearer mind and my body felt better. I even managed a five-mile makeup run at the gym. I’ve been downing fluids and able to eat well again.

I figure if disaster really strikes I can always pull out. There will be other races. I know what it’s like to race when you shouldn’t and I don’t plan on going there.

For now I will keep doing what I should and I will see how I feel in the coming days. I am willing to be reasonable with my own body and even not race if I am still ill.

As for the microwave I plan on pushing it until it dies. I figure if I have to shell out a couple of hundred dollars I didn’t plan on, I’d rather it be for a golf club for my husband or something by Donald Pliner for myself.

I’m driven, but I have my priorities: There are some buttons you can push and others where it’s wise to stop.

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage today: 5; Denver to Boston miles logged: 707; Miles left to go: 1063.

When pigs fly

This is my second balloon blog from Albuquerque, N.M., where my family and I are now.

“Albu-quirky” is a good place to taper before a marathon as long as you don’t overdo it on the cheese, chile and margaritas.

And where else can you see pigs fly at 7 a.m., along with a 40-foot-wide SpongeBob, Darth Vader, and Pepe La Pew?

This morning’s mass ascension at the Balloon Fiesta looked like a giant toy mobile floating above our heads with hundreds of hot-air balloons of every shape, size and color. 

My favorites are the special shapes like the ones I mentioned earlier. Some of the crew members for the Darth Vader balloon team dressed up like Storm Troopers and Sand People. (You gotta like that.)

Cool shapes included: a Russian nesting doll, a Pepsi can, the Wells Fargo stagecoach, a family of bees and Smokey Bear. (And, yes, it is Smokey Bear, not Smokey the Bear. This symbol was named after a cub rescued from a wildfire in New Mexico. You learn such things from living here.) 

It’s been great to run and play tourist near a place where I used to live. (I spent 11 years in Santa Fe before I moved to Denver.) 

New Mexico makes you a hearty runner as you find every terrain here, from the flats along the Rio Grande, to the La Luz trail run — a nine-mile, 4,000-foot ascent up to Sandia Peak. (Once you survive it, you, too, can call yourself a “La Luzer.”)

Some of my other favorite races in New Mexico include The Santa Fe Run Around 5K/10K, the Baylor Pass Trail Run in Las Cruces and the Taos Half Marathon.

I could go on and on about New Mexico but I will wrap it up quick today as I’m on a hotel computer until I get home. I plan on sharing more about running in “The Land of Enchantment” in my future posts. 

Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage today: 4; Denver to Boston miles logged: 699; Miles left to go: 1,071.