Saturday morning I headed out for my easy 60 minute run that caps off my easy running week. The snow had melted just enough that the main roads were clear. The sides ones (ie. mine) were not and navigating them was a little tricky but, once on the main roads, it was a lovely day for a run.
I set off with no plans other than to enjoy a comfortably paced run and that is exactly what I did for the first few kilometres.
That is until I spotted one of my running friends off in the distance.
I guessed that she was less than a kilometre away but more than 500m. Close enough to know it was her but not close enough to yell.
She is a faster runner than I am and seemed to be going at a good clip. I knew I couldn't make up the distance to catch up to her unless she stopped to tie her shoes. Instead, I decided to see if I could hold on and not let her get any further ahead.
So I sped up.
A lot.
Like at least 40 seconds per kilometre faster.
And the chase began.
I knew that my route was taking me by her street so I figured she was heading home. I also know the route enough to know that we had about 2.5 kilometres until her street so I was going to have to hold this pace for at least 15 minutes.
The pace felt brisk but surprisingly manageable. Probably because I was rested after taking it easy all week. I listened to my breath, took constant stock of how I was feeling and watched her like a hawk to make sure she didn't pull ahead.
She didn't.
Once she got to her street I no longer had a bunny to chase. But I was feeling good and enjoying the push so I kept at it to see if I could sustain it for the last 3k home. I held it easily for 2 of those 3k but the final kilometre derailed completely as I turned back off the main roads and onto the snow and ice covered side one.
Such a fun run!
I headed out for an easy 9k and ended up running three different runs. I ran 2k on treacherous snowy roads, 2k at my expected pace and then tucked in the middle I had a lovely 5k gallop that was completely unplanned and totally fun.
Showing posts with label pace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pace. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Friday, May 2, 2014
Pushing to Frustration
When I'm flying down the escarpment on my bike, I can guess how fast I'm going and am usually pretty close.
When I'm slugging up a hill on my bike and glance down at my Garmin, I'm never surprised at my speed. It's usually pretty much what I thought it was.
When I run, I'm pretty steady and can predict my pace fairly accurately. In fact, I'm such a metronome that, as long as the wind and the grade do not change, it's not at all unusual for me to have the exact same pace for 5-6 kilometres in a row.
When I'm in the pool, it's apparently an entirely different story.
In the pool, there is no wind in your hair. There are no vibrations in the bike to help you guess how fast you're flying down a hill. The pounding of your feet in time with the music doesn't help you figure out your pace. There is no music and there is no pounding.
There is just water. And tiles at the bottom of the pool. And a black line. And the kickkickkick of my feet.
At the pool on Wednesday morning we were told we were going to do a pace workout. A workout designed to help us get used to setting and keeping a pace.
After a typical warmup, the workout on the board was as follows:
5x100m on 2:15
repeat three times
Looks easy right?
Well, it wasn't.
The idea was this: we had to pick a pace we wanted to keep for the first set of 5x100m. We had to swim each of the 100m at that exact pace.
After a 50m easy swim, we had to do the second 5x100m the same way but this time the pace had to be 1 second faster.
The third 5x100m had to be 1 second faster than the second set and therefore 2 seconds faster than the first set.
Here's how it went.
I picked 1:45 as my first pace time. Fast but not impossible and not ridiculously hard to maintain for all five.
My times for the first 5x100m were:
1:45
1:45
1:48
1:45
1:48
The second 5x100m should therefore be done at 1:44. My times were:
1:42
1:46
1:48
1:45
1:48
(so much for consistency and so much for speeding up)
The third set was to be done at 1:43. I did them at:
1:45
1:46
1:48
1:46
1:40
(the wheels fell right off during this one and I had no idea what I was doing anymore)
Bah!
One second here or there doesn't sound like a lot and, unless I'm competing to qualify for the Olympics, it's not a big deal. The frustration came from not being able to tell what my time would be. Sometimes I thought I was going fast and found out I swam a 1:46. The next one I would speed up a bit more to bring the time down to 1:44 only to find out I was 1:48. The next one I would feel tired after pushing hard and expect to be slower but find out I was faster.
I would push off the wall and go hard for 50m and then think I went too hard so I'd slow down a titch trying to finish in the right amount of time but end up slowing down too much and messing everything up.
I could not hold a pace consistently but I also could not judge my pace consistently. At times fast felt slow and slow felt fast. Other times, fast felt fast and slow felt slow.
In the pool there is nothing against which to judge my speed other than how I feel. The wind in my hair, the vibration of the bike, the rhythm of a song don't help in the pool. It's just me and the water.
Apparently it takes practice.
Good thing I like that sort of thing. It felt like a puzzle I was trying to solve and I every time I hit the wall and heard my time, I wanted another crack at it.
For any of you swimmers out there it's a fun game to play when you need to get a workout in but don't feel like pushing to exhaustion.
Push yourself to frustration instead :)
When I'm slugging up a hill on my bike and glance down at my Garmin, I'm never surprised at my speed. It's usually pretty much what I thought it was.
When I run, I'm pretty steady and can predict my pace fairly accurately. In fact, I'm such a metronome that, as long as the wind and the grade do not change, it's not at all unusual for me to have the exact same pace for 5-6 kilometres in a row.
When I'm in the pool, it's apparently an entirely different story.
In the pool, there is no wind in your hair. There are no vibrations in the bike to help you guess how fast you're flying down a hill. The pounding of your feet in time with the music doesn't help you figure out your pace. There is no music and there is no pounding.
There is just water. And tiles at the bottom of the pool. And a black line. And the kickkickkick of my feet.
At the pool on Wednesday morning we were told we were going to do a pace workout. A workout designed to help us get used to setting and keeping a pace.
After a typical warmup, the workout on the board was as follows:
5x100m on 2:15
repeat three times
Looks easy right?
Well, it wasn't.
The idea was this: we had to pick a pace we wanted to keep for the first set of 5x100m. We had to swim each of the 100m at that exact pace.
After a 50m easy swim, we had to do the second 5x100m the same way but this time the pace had to be 1 second faster.
The third 5x100m had to be 1 second faster than the second set and therefore 2 seconds faster than the first set.
Here's how it went.
I picked 1:45 as my first pace time. Fast but not impossible and not ridiculously hard to maintain for all five.
My times for the first 5x100m were:
1:45
1:45
1:48
1:45
1:48
The second 5x100m should therefore be done at 1:44. My times were:
1:42
1:46
1:48
1:45
1:48
(so much for consistency and so much for speeding up)
The third set was to be done at 1:43. I did them at:
1:45
1:46
1:48
1:46
1:40
(the wheels fell right off during this one and I had no idea what I was doing anymore)
Bah!
One second here or there doesn't sound like a lot and, unless I'm competing to qualify for the Olympics, it's not a big deal. The frustration came from not being able to tell what my time would be. Sometimes I thought I was going fast and found out I swam a 1:46. The next one I would speed up a bit more to bring the time down to 1:44 only to find out I was 1:48. The next one I would feel tired after pushing hard and expect to be slower but find out I was faster.
I would push off the wall and go hard for 50m and then think I went too hard so I'd slow down a titch trying to finish in the right amount of time but end up slowing down too much and messing everything up.
I could not hold a pace consistently but I also could not judge my pace consistently. At times fast felt slow and slow felt fast. Other times, fast felt fast and slow felt slow.
In the pool there is nothing against which to judge my speed other than how I feel. The wind in my hair, the vibration of the bike, the rhythm of a song don't help in the pool. It's just me and the water.
Apparently it takes practice.
Good thing I like that sort of thing. It felt like a puzzle I was trying to solve and I every time I hit the wall and heard my time, I wanted another crack at it.
For any of you swimmers out there it's a fun game to play when you need to get a workout in but don't feel like pushing to exhaustion.
Push yourself to frustration instead :)
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Shaving One Second at a Time
Apparently we're going to be doing 300m time trials every few weeks at the pool.
We did our first one of the year a few weeks ago. On that day, Christine had us swim 300m three times with a two minute break in between.
When I did them, I swam them in 5:12, 5:21 and 5:17 for an average of 5:16:7. Having no idea if that is good or not, I just nodded and panted when they told me my times.
Time trials are hard. Three hundred metres is six trips back and forth across the pool. As fast as you can at a pace you can sustain for the entire distance. And five minutes can feel like a really really long time when your arms are exhausted and you are gasping for air.
On Monday morning, we were at it again. Three time three hundred metres. I didn't know how I would do this time but at least I knew what to expect.
I knew I would be fastest on the first one. I knew that the thought of doing a second one as I held on to the side of the pool, red-faced and exhausted, would bring me close to tears. I knew that, during the second one I would already be psyching myself up to do it a third time. And I knew that, a few minutes after it was over, I would feel fine and wish I could have another go at it.
I asked to go with the first group this time. Last time I was a timer first and then I swam. That meant that I sat on the deck for almost 30 minutes as my blood sugar slowly climbed. By the time I got started, I was feeling like I was up around 10 which is not a good place to be for that kind of exercise.
So I went first and Christine was my timer. I pushed off, thinking I would try to keep pace (or at least keep her toes in my field of view) with Chantal who was swimming beside me. She's faster than I am but not ridiculously so.
She disappeared from sight in less than 25m. I chased but couldn't catch her. Damn! I hit the wall at 50m and Christine yell "go go go!!". Omigod, I must be so slow today if she's already yelling. I pushed harder and heard a "go go go!!" again at 100m. And at 200m. I was the last one to finish and was shaking from exertion.
"What's the damage?" I asked.
5:09
Seriously?
"and" Christine practically yelled "you did the first 100m in 1:37!!".
And here I thought she was yelling because I was too slow.
We had one minute and fifteen seconds to rest, gulp down a drink and catch our breath before we headed off again.
I did the second one in 5:12 and the final one in 5:15.
I had obviously pushed hard during the first one and could definitely feel it on the next two. But I went from 5:12, 5:21 and 5:17 two weeks ago to 5:09, 5:12 and 5:15.
Not much really, just a few seconds difference. But a few seconds per month means I might be swimming 100m in 1:30 by summer.
I'm not sure why exactly that matters in the great scheme of things. It's not like I'm trying to qualify for the Olympics or anything. But it sure is nice to know that all the hard work in the pool is paying off.
My goal for next time? Keep Chantal's feet within reach - at least for the first 100m.
We did our first one of the year a few weeks ago. On that day, Christine had us swim 300m three times with a two minute break in between.
When I did them, I swam them in 5:12, 5:21 and 5:17 for an average of 5:16:7. Having no idea if that is good or not, I just nodded and panted when they told me my times.
Time trials are hard. Three hundred metres is six trips back and forth across the pool. As fast as you can at a pace you can sustain for the entire distance. And five minutes can feel like a really really long time when your arms are exhausted and you are gasping for air.
On Monday morning, we were at it again. Three time three hundred metres. I didn't know how I would do this time but at least I knew what to expect.
I knew I would be fastest on the first one. I knew that the thought of doing a second one as I held on to the side of the pool, red-faced and exhausted, would bring me close to tears. I knew that, during the second one I would already be psyching myself up to do it a third time. And I knew that, a few minutes after it was over, I would feel fine and wish I could have another go at it.
I asked to go with the first group this time. Last time I was a timer first and then I swam. That meant that I sat on the deck for almost 30 minutes as my blood sugar slowly climbed. By the time I got started, I was feeling like I was up around 10 which is not a good place to be for that kind of exercise.
So I went first and Christine was my timer. I pushed off, thinking I would try to keep pace (or at least keep her toes in my field of view) with Chantal who was swimming beside me. She's faster than I am but not ridiculously so.
She disappeared from sight in less than 25m. I chased but couldn't catch her. Damn! I hit the wall at 50m and Christine yell "go go go!!". Omigod, I must be so slow today if she's already yelling. I pushed harder and heard a "go go go!!" again at 100m. And at 200m. I was the last one to finish and was shaking from exertion.
"What's the damage?" I asked.
5:09
Seriously?
"and" Christine practically yelled "you did the first 100m in 1:37!!".
And here I thought she was yelling because I was too slow.
We had one minute and fifteen seconds to rest, gulp down a drink and catch our breath before we headed off again.
I did the second one in 5:12 and the final one in 5:15.
I had obviously pushed hard during the first one and could definitely feel it on the next two. But I went from 5:12, 5:21 and 5:17 two weeks ago to 5:09, 5:12 and 5:15.
Not much really, just a few seconds difference. But a few seconds per month means I might be swimming 100m in 1:30 by summer.
I'm not sure why exactly that matters in the great scheme of things. It's not like I'm trying to qualify for the Olympics or anything. But it sure is nice to know that all the hard work in the pool is paying off.
My goal for next time? Keep Chantal's feet within reach - at least for the first 100m.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
300m Time Trials
We're scheduled to have a time trial during our swim class tomorrow morning.
The whole point is to figure out our pace in the water for different distances.
I know my pace when I run and I get constant feedback as to whether or not I'm running the pace I want to run by simply glancing down at my watch.
Swimming is a different beast entirely. I am surprised more often than not when I finish a 50m, 100m or 200m sprint and Christine tells us our time. Sometimes I felt like I was flying and she'll tell me a number that was slower than expected. Just as often, I'll feel like I'm fighting against the water and she'll tell me a time that's much faster than expected. You can't judge your speed based on how fast the scenery goes by because there isn't any scenery...other than the odd hair elastic lying on the bottom of the pool. You can't judge based on the person beside you because you don't always know if they're swimming faster, slower or the same speed as they were the last time you swam beside them.
Time trials are helpful because they help you figure out your personal pace for certain distances and then you can get a better idea of your progress and your performance on any given day. Because, when it comes down to it, it's just you against the clock.
The first (and only) time I did a time trial, I had to swim 200m and then 800m. The 200m was ok as it was only 8 lengths of the pool. I headed off at a pretty good clip and was able to sustain it the entire time. The 800m was much harder because it was 32 lengths of the pool. It was impossible to keep track of how many I had done and I had no idea what pace I could sustain for that long. I started off at a conservative pace and was able to speed up towards the end which meant I had obviously been a little too conservative.
This time, we are swimming 300m but we are doing it three times - with breaks in between. The idea is that we can average out our times and get a more realistic number.
So tomorrow morning, we are going to take turns swimming 300m and then timing other swimmers as they swim 300m.
Let's see if my one-pace wonder skills kick in or if all three of my timed swims are completely different.
And let's see if my brand new bathing suit that I bought to replace the one that nearly disintegrated from the chlorine has any effect on my time...
By the way, buying a new swim suit is like buying a new pair of running shoes. The instant you put it on you realize how little support your old one was giving you.
The whole point is to figure out our pace in the water for different distances.
I know my pace when I run and I get constant feedback as to whether or not I'm running the pace I want to run by simply glancing down at my watch.
Swimming is a different beast entirely. I am surprised more often than not when I finish a 50m, 100m or 200m sprint and Christine tells us our time. Sometimes I felt like I was flying and she'll tell me a number that was slower than expected. Just as often, I'll feel like I'm fighting against the water and she'll tell me a time that's much faster than expected. You can't judge your speed based on how fast the scenery goes by because there isn't any scenery...other than the odd hair elastic lying on the bottom of the pool. You can't judge based on the person beside you because you don't always know if they're swimming faster, slower or the same speed as they were the last time you swam beside them.
Time trials are helpful because they help you figure out your personal pace for certain distances and then you can get a better idea of your progress and your performance on any given day. Because, when it comes down to it, it's just you against the clock.
The first (and only) time I did a time trial, I had to swim 200m and then 800m. The 200m was ok as it was only 8 lengths of the pool. I headed off at a pretty good clip and was able to sustain it the entire time. The 800m was much harder because it was 32 lengths of the pool. It was impossible to keep track of how many I had done and I had no idea what pace I could sustain for that long. I started off at a conservative pace and was able to speed up towards the end which meant I had obviously been a little too conservative.
This time, we are swimming 300m but we are doing it three times - with breaks in between. The idea is that we can average out our times and get a more realistic number.
So tomorrow morning, we are going to take turns swimming 300m and then timing other swimmers as they swim 300m.
Let's see if my one-pace wonder skills kick in or if all three of my timed swims are completely different.
And let's see if my brand new bathing suit that I bought to replace the one that nearly disintegrated from the chlorine has any effect on my time...
By the way, buying a new swim suit is like buying a new pair of running shoes. The instant you put it on you realize how little support your old one was giving you.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Underwater Pacing
Pacing in the water is really hard. Particularly if you want to keep moving.
On land, I have a Garmin watch that helps keep me on track. I glance down every so often to make sure I'm not running too quickly or too slowly and, every kilometer, it beeps and tells me how long that kilometer took to run. Very helpful.
In the pool, things are not quite as straightforward. I don't wear a watch at the pool. Some people do but I just can't be bothered to buy it when I have my own personal coach to yell times at me. And even if I did have one, I'm not going to stop in the middle of a 100m sprint to check my pace. With my arms flailing around like a windmill, it would be pretty hard to read the tiny numbers...
I can also use the clock on the wall. You know, those pool clocks with the four hands (all different colours) that go around and around? I never knew how those worked before I started swimming. Now it all makes sense.
Or at least it made sense once I splurged on prescription goggles so I could actually see the clock...
Again though, it's hard to judge pace by the clock because you have to be able to breathe at the correct time and in the correct direction in order to see the clock as you go by. Then you have to be able to remember what the clock said the last time you went by so you can determine how long it took you to get back to that spot. I'm not good at either of those things.
So I'm one of those swimmers who pushes off from the wall, swims the required distance at the required effort level (easy, cruise, build, explosive, fast, pace, pace -5 or pace -10) and finds out at the end of 50m, 100m, 200m or 400m how close I was to the pace I was supposed to go.
Monday we had to do the following:
800m warm up
200m cruise
400m pace
100m pull - cruise
400 pace minus 5 seconds
200m cruise
400m pace minus 10 seconds
100m cruise
300m scull/swim cool down
Basically, the hard part was the 400m swims and the recovery part were the 100m and 200m cruise sections.
I swam the first 400m at a pace that felt hard but a pace that I could easily maintain for the entire distance. The only problem was that I stopped after 350m accidentally which completely screwed up my time. I thought I had counted 8 trips back and forth but apparently doubled up somewhere along the way and only ended up doing seven. I figured that out when I found myself standing with the fastest swimmers while I watched the slower (but still faster than me) swimmers complete their final 50m.
(see what I mean about keeping too many things in my head while swimming? If I glance at the clock and try to do math, I immediately forget how many 50m I have left)
So it took me 7 minutes and 7 seconds to swim 350m. I guessed I would have taken about 7:50 to swim the entire distance.
That meant that the next 400m would have to be 7:45 if I wanted to do pace minus five seconds.
This time, I was the second person in my lane to start so I immediately knew I had to subtract 5 seconds from whatever time I got. I swam what I thought was the same speed but just a wee bit faster and finished in 7:30 (or 7:25 with the adjustment). In other words I swam pace minus 20 seconds. Which means that either my first swim wasn't actually at pace or my second swim was way too fast.
I did the third 400m but this time ended up leaving about 8 seconds after the first person in my lane. I swam that 400m in the exact same time as the previous one (7:30) but subtracted 8 seconds to get 7:22 which was three seconds faster than the 2nd 400m and 23 seconds faster than the first.
I don't really know what all of this means. I just know that it's hard to get a feel for speed in the water. Sometimes I feel like I'm flying and then find out that I must have been flailing. Other times I feel really slow but actually end up with a really fast (for me) time.
Fast or slow, I swam 2900m on Monday morning and had it all done within an hour and 20 minutes. Compared to last year - I'm flying!
On land, I have a Garmin watch that helps keep me on track. I glance down every so often to make sure I'm not running too quickly or too slowly and, every kilometer, it beeps and tells me how long that kilometer took to run. Very helpful.
In the pool, things are not quite as straightforward. I don't wear a watch at the pool. Some people do but I just can't be bothered to buy it when I have my own personal coach to yell times at me. And even if I did have one, I'm not going to stop in the middle of a 100m sprint to check my pace. With my arms flailing around like a windmill, it would be pretty hard to read the tiny numbers...
I can also use the clock on the wall. You know, those pool clocks with the four hands (all different colours) that go around and around? I never knew how those worked before I started swimming. Now it all makes sense.
Or at least it made sense once I splurged on prescription goggles so I could actually see the clock...
Again though, it's hard to judge pace by the clock because you have to be able to breathe at the correct time and in the correct direction in order to see the clock as you go by. Then you have to be able to remember what the clock said the last time you went by so you can determine how long it took you to get back to that spot. I'm not good at either of those things.
So I'm one of those swimmers who pushes off from the wall, swims the required distance at the required effort level (easy, cruise, build, explosive, fast, pace, pace -5 or pace -10) and finds out at the end of 50m, 100m, 200m or 400m how close I was to the pace I was supposed to go.
Monday we had to do the following:
800m warm up
200m cruise
400m pace
100m pull - cruise
400 pace minus 5 seconds
200m cruise
400m pace minus 10 seconds
100m cruise
300m scull/swim cool down
Basically, the hard part was the 400m swims and the recovery part were the 100m and 200m cruise sections.
I swam the first 400m at a pace that felt hard but a pace that I could easily maintain for the entire distance. The only problem was that I stopped after 350m accidentally which completely screwed up my time. I thought I had counted 8 trips back and forth but apparently doubled up somewhere along the way and only ended up doing seven. I figured that out when I found myself standing with the fastest swimmers while I watched the slower (but still faster than me) swimmers complete their final 50m.
(see what I mean about keeping too many things in my head while swimming? If I glance at the clock and try to do math, I immediately forget how many 50m I have left)
So it took me 7 minutes and 7 seconds to swim 350m. I guessed I would have taken about 7:50 to swim the entire distance.
That meant that the next 400m would have to be 7:45 if I wanted to do pace minus five seconds.
This time, I was the second person in my lane to start so I immediately knew I had to subtract 5 seconds from whatever time I got. I swam what I thought was the same speed but just a wee bit faster and finished in 7:30 (or 7:25 with the adjustment). In other words I swam pace minus 20 seconds. Which means that either my first swim wasn't actually at pace or my second swim was way too fast.
I did the third 400m but this time ended up leaving about 8 seconds after the first person in my lane. I swam that 400m in the exact same time as the previous one (7:30) but subtracted 8 seconds to get 7:22 which was three seconds faster than the 2nd 400m and 23 seconds faster than the first.
I don't really know what all of this means. I just know that it's hard to get a feel for speed in the water. Sometimes I feel like I'm flying and then find out that I must have been flailing. Other times I feel really slow but actually end up with a really fast (for me) time.
Fast or slow, I swam 2900m on Monday morning and had it all done within an hour and 20 minutes. Compared to last year - I'm flying!
Monday, October 15, 2012
Time Trials
It's Saturday morning at 7am. It's cool and crisp outside and the sun is coming up. A beautiful morning for my last long run before the Niagara Falls half next weekend.
So what am I doing at the pool you ask? Why am I standing around with a whole bunch of nervous strangers instead of running under the rising sun and fading stars?
Because it's time trial day.
This is Christine's doing. She encouraged, cajoled, pushed and shoved her swimmers to the pool on Saturday morning. She brought a whole pile of stopwatches, clipboards and time sheets. The goal? We were all going to be timed as we swam various distances and this would give us our baseline upon which to improve our speeds.
I arrived in the lobby of the Kiwanis building and was followed in by a woman I didn't know. She was using crutches. Oh wow, I thought (naively), she must have an injury. I wonder if she is coming to do some pool running like I used to do? That sucks.
Nope.
She was in the same section of the changeroom as I was. She undressed and then proceeded to remove her prosthetic leg. She pulled on her bathing suit and swim cap. She followed me to the main pool and Christine greeted her with a smile. No recovery pool for her - she was time trial'ing it with me.
I didn't count but it looked like there were about 20 of us. I knew about 5 people. We all hopped into the pool to warm up (200m swim, 200m pull, 200m kick). During this time, Christine's daughters installed a mirror on the bottom of lane 1. Once it was set up - she asked me to swim over it. I did and popped up with a huge grin. "That's awesome!!". I could see myself swimming. I could see what I was doing with my arms and that darn crossover she's always on me about. When you run, you get a sense of how you look when running by store windows but I've never had a sense of what I look like swimming. It's pretty cool to see.
Everyone piled out of the pool. "We are going to have a 200m, a 400m and an 800m timed swim. What is everyone going to do?" she asked.
"I'll do a 200m and a 400m" I said. "No" she replied, "you can do a 200m and an 800m".
Seriously?
800m is 32 lengths of the pool. Without stopping. As fast as you can.
Everyone chose their distance(s) and sat down to wait their turns. There would be four swimmers in the water at a time.
We started with the 200m. I hopped in lane 3. The lady from the changeroom hopped in lane 4. The whistle blew and we were off. She was my speed but a little faster. So I chased her but I couldn't quite catch her. I finished in 3:48 and she finished in 3:47. I think I may have just met another hero...
I watched the next few 200m swims. It's such an odd thing - when you're swimming you feel like you're working so hard and swimming so fast. But, from the surface, everyone looked pretty leisurely.
Then it was time for the 400m. Sixteen lengths of the pool. I watched. I watched swimmers pushing hard and I watched them start to tire. When it was over, several people's arms were shaking with exhaustion and they could hardly pull themselves out of the water.
Good lord. I was going to have to swim that distance - twice.
Into the pool I slid. I adjusted my goggles, took a deep breath and waved to show that I was ready. There were three other swimmers doing the same distance at the same time. Two of them I knew and one, an older and rather unassuming gentleman, I did not.
We were off.
The first 200m were really tiring. My arms were still spent from my first 'event'. The second 200m were really really tiring and I began to think "uh oh". In the third 200m, something kicked in and I suddenly felt better, stronger and faster. That's about the time that the older gentleman in the lane beside me lapped me. Still, I did feel better all of a sudden. I guess it's like running - it always takes me 5k to warm up and feel good.
Two hundred metres to go. Eight trips across the pool. I counted down but no longer felt the desperate need to stop that I had felt at the beginning. I touched the side and my timer yelled "last 50m!!". Back and forth once more and it was over.
Fourteen minutes and 47 seconds. Which meant that my pace was a little slower but not much off my 200m one. And apparently I was pretty consistent and didn't slow down toward the end. Céline Parent: human metronome.
Never having done a time trial before I didn't know what to expect. But that time felt good. It felt fast but with plenty of room for improvement.
And I adamantly refuse to think about the guy in the second group who did 800m in 10 minutes.
Absolutely refuse.
As for diabetes - it was an interesting morning. I am usually done my swim by 7am. This time I was starting at 7am and we were going to be there until 9 but not swimming the entire time. I would be sitting a lot and then swimming hard and then sitting again. I would be unplugged from my pump for two hours.
I never eat before a swim (unless I'm low and even then it's only a small handful of raisins). I knew I would be hungry by 9 but I didn't want to eat before because I haven't practiced eating and bolusing before a swim. I was not in the mood to have my first in-pool low during a time trial. So I had a handful of raisins and a spoonful of peanut butter. I unhooked and crossed my fingers. I felt ok for most of it but could tell when I was finished my 800m that my sugar was climbing. I waved goodbye and headed for the showers. My blood sugar was 11.9 by the time I was ready to reattach my pump. Not awful but higher than I'm used to after a swim.
I increased my basal rate as I usually do but chased highs for the rest of the day.
Just over year until I am eligible for a new pump. Bring on the waterproof one!
So what am I doing at the pool you ask? Why am I standing around with a whole bunch of nervous strangers instead of running under the rising sun and fading stars?
Because it's time trial day.
This is Christine's doing. She encouraged, cajoled, pushed and shoved her swimmers to the pool on Saturday morning. She brought a whole pile of stopwatches, clipboards and time sheets. The goal? We were all going to be timed as we swam various distances and this would give us our baseline upon which to improve our speeds.
I arrived in the lobby of the Kiwanis building and was followed in by a woman I didn't know. She was using crutches. Oh wow, I thought (naively), she must have an injury. I wonder if she is coming to do some pool running like I used to do? That sucks.
Nope.
She was in the same section of the changeroom as I was. She undressed and then proceeded to remove her prosthetic leg. She pulled on her bathing suit and swim cap. She followed me to the main pool and Christine greeted her with a smile. No recovery pool for her - she was time trial'ing it with me.
I didn't count but it looked like there were about 20 of us. I knew about 5 people. We all hopped into the pool to warm up (200m swim, 200m pull, 200m kick). During this time, Christine's daughters installed a mirror on the bottom of lane 1. Once it was set up - she asked me to swim over it. I did and popped up with a huge grin. "That's awesome!!". I could see myself swimming. I could see what I was doing with my arms and that darn crossover she's always on me about. When you run, you get a sense of how you look when running by store windows but I've never had a sense of what I look like swimming. It's pretty cool to see.
The setup looked liked this. Apparently you can tether yourself to the side of the pool and swim in place which really allows you to check your form. I just swam over it a few times but it was still pretty cool.
Everyone piled out of the pool. "We are going to have a 200m, a 400m and an 800m timed swim. What is everyone going to do?" she asked.
"I'll do a 200m and a 400m" I said. "No" she replied, "you can do a 200m and an 800m".
Seriously?
800m is 32 lengths of the pool. Without stopping. As fast as you can.
Everyone chose their distance(s) and sat down to wait their turns. There would be four swimmers in the water at a time.
We started with the 200m. I hopped in lane 3. The lady from the changeroom hopped in lane 4. The whistle blew and we were off. She was my speed but a little faster. So I chased her but I couldn't quite catch her. I finished in 3:48 and she finished in 3:47. I think I may have just met another hero...
I watched the next few 200m swims. It's such an odd thing - when you're swimming you feel like you're working so hard and swimming so fast. But, from the surface, everyone looked pretty leisurely.
Then it was time for the 400m. Sixteen lengths of the pool. I watched. I watched swimmers pushing hard and I watched them start to tire. When it was over, several people's arms were shaking with exhaustion and they could hardly pull themselves out of the water.
Good lord. I was going to have to swim that distance - twice.
Into the pool I slid. I adjusted my goggles, took a deep breath and waved to show that I was ready. There were three other swimmers doing the same distance at the same time. Two of them I knew and one, an older and rather unassuming gentleman, I did not.
We were off.
The first 200m were really tiring. My arms were still spent from my first 'event'. The second 200m were really really tiring and I began to think "uh oh". In the third 200m, something kicked in and I suddenly felt better, stronger and faster. That's about the time that the older gentleman in the lane beside me lapped me. Still, I did feel better all of a sudden. I guess it's like running - it always takes me 5k to warm up and feel good.
Two hundred metres to go. Eight trips across the pool. I counted down but no longer felt the desperate need to stop that I had felt at the beginning. I touched the side and my timer yelled "last 50m!!". Back and forth once more and it was over.
Fourteen minutes and 47 seconds. Which meant that my pace was a little slower but not much off my 200m one. And apparently I was pretty consistent and didn't slow down toward the end. Céline Parent: human metronome.
Never having done a time trial before I didn't know what to expect. But that time felt good. It felt fast but with plenty of room for improvement.
And I adamantly refuse to think about the guy in the second group who did 800m in 10 minutes.
Absolutely refuse.
As for diabetes - it was an interesting morning. I am usually done my swim by 7am. This time I was starting at 7am and we were going to be there until 9 but not swimming the entire time. I would be sitting a lot and then swimming hard and then sitting again. I would be unplugged from my pump for two hours.
I never eat before a swim (unless I'm low and even then it's only a small handful of raisins). I knew I would be hungry by 9 but I didn't want to eat before because I haven't practiced eating and bolusing before a swim. I was not in the mood to have my first in-pool low during a time trial. So I had a handful of raisins and a spoonful of peanut butter. I unhooked and crossed my fingers. I felt ok for most of it but could tell when I was finished my 800m that my sugar was climbing. I waved goodbye and headed for the showers. My blood sugar was 11.9 by the time I was ready to reattach my pump. Not awful but higher than I'm used to after a swim.
I increased my basal rate as I usually do but chased highs for the rest of the day.
Just over year until I am eligible for a new pump. Bring on the waterproof one!
Friday, July 20, 2012
Training for the Zombie Apocalypse
I ran after work yesterday.
I haven't done that in weeks and weeks - it has just been too damn hot to run any time other than at 5:30am.
Yesterday however, it didn't even reach 30 degrees and the humidity was pretty manageable. Thanks to the Weather Network's predicted temperatures, I slept in until 6:30am (heaven!) and ran at 4:30pm instead.
I felt pretty energetic before I left so I was looking forward to a good run. One minute into it I started to get a little worried. It felt harder than it should have and I was having trouble breathing. I pushed a little harder and it only got worse. I checked my watch and I was running 5:45min/k.
Good lord!
No wonder I was struggling. I normally run my first kilometre or two in 6:20s and then slowly get faster as I warm up. I ran the first kilometre in 5:57. I tried to force myself to slow down because I was worried I would crash before I finished my 7k run. The next kilometre was under 6 minutes. So was the next one. I reached 3.5k in 20 minutes and change and was still running like I was being chased by zombies.
What the hell?
I continued to try to slow down until I looked at my Garmin and realized I had reached 5k in 29 minutes.
That's when I sped up.
Occasionally, I can run 7k in 42 minutes and a handful of seconds which is a 6:00min/k pace. That's fast for me. Once, I ran it in 41:?? minutes and that was crazy fast. I have never once run 7k in under 41 minutes. I figured I had 2k left so, worse case, I had 12 minutes of hard running. I had already run 30 minutes at a crazy clip - what was another two??
So I pictured myself being chased by groaning, lumbering, scary zombies and I ran hard. I panted. I gasped, I wheezed. I like to think I look strong and intense but I probably looked like a runner who was trying to escape a gaggle of zombies. I didn't care. I rounded the corner and, about a hundred metres from the house, my watched beeped to announce 7k.
I made it in 40:49.
Oh yeah baby - bring on the zombie apocalypse!
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
From Fast Slow to Slow Fast
When I started running - I was slow.
I mean really sloooooow.
I am a pretty fast walker so I must have looked ridiculous as I power walked for five minutes and then slowed down to a run for two minutes and then sped up to a walk again. Things went on that way for a while. I added minutes to my runs but I always walked faster than I could run. I tried not to be mortified by that fact but it was pretty embarrassing.
I joined Runners' Edge after a few months of trying to make a go of it on my own and they taught me a few tricks that helped me learn how to run faster than I walked. I sped up a bit but settled pretty quickly into a 7 minute per kilometre pace. Always being the last one to finish a run, I described myself as a slow slow runner.
I was ok with that because a) I was running! and b) the thought of going any faster was enough to make me want to faint so I really didn't think there was any point in fretting about my pace. I was working hard dammit!
Over the next year I trained for a 10k, a half marathon, another 10k and then another half marathon. We did speed work, hill work, long runs and lots of them. But I never got faster - the only thing that happened was that it got a little easier to run my 7 min/k pace.
Both 10k races took 70 minutes and both half marathons were exactly 2 hours and 30 minutes. After that I figured I had found my pace and that I was always going to be a slow slow runner.
In 2011, I started off the year by training for Around the Bay and then leapt right in to marathon training. I started running four days a week instead of three. I did all my speed work and all my hill work and I taught my body how to run for hours and hours. Somewhere along the way, I started speeding up a little bit. I went from 7 min/k to 6:45 to 6:30 and then, on really fast days, I could even handle 6:20 for short periods.
I was no longer right at the back of the pack and I, occasionally, passed someone!
I had become a fast slow runner and it felt good.
Then I got injured.
Twelve weeks off followed by a really slow comeback.
One minute runs. Two minute runs. Three minute runs. I huffed and puffed my way through 60 seconds of running. It felt ridiculously hard and I felt like I had gone back to the days of walking faster than I ran.
But I kept at it and, as I added one minute at a time, my body slowly remembered how to run. But it seemed to forget what pace it used to run because every time I looked down at my Garmin, I would see 6:00 and 5:50 and 5:40min/k. Those paces were the ones I used to struggle to maintain during my speed work - never mind during regular runs.
I kept adding minutes and I kept up the pace. It felt crazy fast and I kept waiting for my body to rebel and slow back down again...but it didn't.
The big test came two weeks ago when I had to run 60 minutes for the first time. My pace hovered around 6:00 the entire time and, as I approached 58 minutes, it dawned on me that I might be able to get 10k done in under an hour. For the first. time. ever.
I pushed a bit and, when my watched beeped, I looked down to see 59:51 on the clock. I did it. I broke 60 minutes for a 10k without even trying to.
I ran 60 minutes two days later and pulled off another 10k in 59:47.
Last night, I headed out for another 60 minute run. I wasn't feeling super energized and had decided not to push it. I trotted along at a comfortable clip, not too fast, not too slow...
...so I thought.
10k in 58:32.
That my friends, is insane.
I think I've graduated again. I am no longer a fast slow runner.
I'm now a slow fast one.
Bring it on!!
I mean really sloooooow.
I am a pretty fast walker so I must have looked ridiculous as I power walked for five minutes and then slowed down to a run for two minutes and then sped up to a walk again. Things went on that way for a while. I added minutes to my runs but I always walked faster than I could run. I tried not to be mortified by that fact but it was pretty embarrassing.
I joined Runners' Edge after a few months of trying to make a go of it on my own and they taught me a few tricks that helped me learn how to run faster than I walked. I sped up a bit but settled pretty quickly into a 7 minute per kilometre pace. Always being the last one to finish a run, I described myself as a slow slow runner.
I was ok with that because a) I was running! and b) the thought of going any faster was enough to make me want to faint so I really didn't think there was any point in fretting about my pace. I was working hard dammit!
Over the next year I trained for a 10k, a half marathon, another 10k and then another half marathon. We did speed work, hill work, long runs and lots of them. But I never got faster - the only thing that happened was that it got a little easier to run my 7 min/k pace.
Both 10k races took 70 minutes and both half marathons were exactly 2 hours and 30 minutes. After that I figured I had found my pace and that I was always going to be a slow slow runner.
In 2011, I started off the year by training for Around the Bay and then leapt right in to marathon training. I started running four days a week instead of three. I did all my speed work and all my hill work and I taught my body how to run for hours and hours. Somewhere along the way, I started speeding up a little bit. I went from 7 min/k to 6:45 to 6:30 and then, on really fast days, I could even handle 6:20 for short periods.
I was no longer right at the back of the pack and I, occasionally, passed someone!
I had become a fast slow runner and it felt good.
Then I got injured.
Twelve weeks off followed by a really slow comeback.
One minute runs. Two minute runs. Three minute runs. I huffed and puffed my way through 60 seconds of running. It felt ridiculously hard and I felt like I had gone back to the days of walking faster than I ran.
But I kept at it and, as I added one minute at a time, my body slowly remembered how to run. But it seemed to forget what pace it used to run because every time I looked down at my Garmin, I would see 6:00 and 5:50 and 5:40min/k. Those paces were the ones I used to struggle to maintain during my speed work - never mind during regular runs.
I kept adding minutes and I kept up the pace. It felt crazy fast and I kept waiting for my body to rebel and slow back down again...but it didn't.
The big test came two weeks ago when I had to run 60 minutes for the first time. My pace hovered around 6:00 the entire time and, as I approached 58 minutes, it dawned on me that I might be able to get 10k done in under an hour. For the first. time. ever.
I pushed a bit and, when my watched beeped, I looked down to see 59:51 on the clock. I did it. I broke 60 minutes for a 10k without even trying to.
I ran 60 minutes two days later and pulled off another 10k in 59:47.
Last night, I headed out for another 60 minute run. I wasn't feeling super energized and had decided not to push it. I trotted along at a comfortable clip, not too fast, not too slow...
...so I thought.
10k in 58:32.
That my friends, is insane.
I think I've graduated again. I am no longer a fast slow runner.
I'm now a slow fast one.
Bring it on!!
Monday, September 19, 2011
The Plan Worked - Sort Of
I pushed my body and it pushed back.
Saturday, Doug and I drove to the Niagara Parkway to run 30k. We did an out and back route which allowed me to run 15k of the race route. Enough to give me a good sense of what race day might feel like.
The course, at least that stretch, is lovely. It's flat which is a major bonus. The Niagara River runs along one side and huge, beautiful homes line the other side. The Niagara Falls skyline looms far off in the distance - like a beacon guiding us home.
I decided to pretend it was race day. Normally, when I stop to check my sugar, eat a snack etc etc - I stop my watch. I stand still. I do what I need to do.
Sadly, on race day, they do not stop the clock for chronic diseases. Seconds tick by and, while I'm not expecting to quality for Boston, I would love to finish in under five hours. Which means I need to keep moving forward. So I decided not to stop my watch during the run. Instead I would walk briskly while checking my sugar and eating my snacks.
Finally, unlike some runners, my race pace is pretty much my normal pace. I do not pick it up on race day and adrenaline does not push me to run faster. I am very much a one pace wonder. I decided to see how hard it would be to run according to my 'race day plan'. My plan (which may or may not work but it's a guide for me to follow) is to run a pace of roughly 6:30 per kilometre during the race. I don't know if I can sustain that the whole way but I'm hoping to be able to do it for the first four hours. That should get me to about 36k in four hours meaning that I only need to run 6k in the last hour to meet my goal. That should (hopefully) allow time for unforeseen problems...
So, based on my plan, I figure every hour I will run approximately 9k (including one hourly stop for diabetes maintenance).
Back to Saturday. We headed to Niagara Falls just after 7am. I leaned my head against the window as we drove thinking "I can't believe I have to run for 3 1/2 hours" over and over again. When you have to run but haven't started yet, it's best not to think too much about what you're about to do.
We parked the car, topped up our water and hopped around trying to warm up. It was cold! Then, with a high five and a barely concealed look of mild panic (from me), we started running. I took it easy and tried to find my groove. It took about 8k but I found it. At 9k I checked my watch. It said 56 minutes. I slowed to a brisk walk, checked my sugar, ate a date and drank my water. Exactly 60 minutes. Perfect!
I kept up the pace and felt pretty good. By 16k I was getting a little tired but the thought that I could slow to a brisk walk in 2k was enough to keep me moving. Eighteen kilometres = exactly 2 hours of running. Crazy!
I decided not to stop at 27k because I only had to do three more and didn't want to lose momentum. I did peak at my watch though and discovered (with surprise) that I hit 27k in 3 hours. Now, I didn't stop so I would have probably hit it at 3:05:00 if I had but still, pretty good.
Unbelievably it was 3:21:00 on my Garmin when I trotted in to the parking lot. Done! My fastest 30k ever and I didn't stop my watch when I walked.
I was exhausted. I drank my chocolate milk and leaned my head on the window as we drove home thinking "I can't believe I ran for 3 1/2 hours" over and over again. As soon as it's over, it's almost impossible to imagine that I moved my body that far.
I proved that my race day plan is actually within the realm of reality. That did wonders for my confidence. But it knocked my socks off. We came home, stretched, showered and ate lunch. That was it. I fell into bed and fell sound asleep for over two hours. When I woke up I felt pretty good but after walking around for a bit, I discovered that my left ankle was not happy - at all. My ankle bone hurt - kinda where my shin usually hurts except it felt different. Putting pressure on it hurt, climbing stairs hurt more.
Uh, oh.
A few ibuprophen, a few stretches and a bike ride on Sunday helped loosen things up. It's still there but much better. Hopefully after Monday's day of rest things will be back to normal. We'll find out soon enough on Tuesday's run.
I pushed my body and it pushed back.
C'mon legs - we only have a few more weeks left until race day. I promise I will give you a few weeks off after we run 42k. I won't make you run one step, get up before 6am or do anything you don't feel like doing. Hold on - we're almost there.
Saturday, Doug and I drove to the Niagara Parkway to run 30k. We did an out and back route which allowed me to run 15k of the race route. Enough to give me a good sense of what race day might feel like.
The course, at least that stretch, is lovely. It's flat which is a major bonus. The Niagara River runs along one side and huge, beautiful homes line the other side. The Niagara Falls skyline looms far off in the distance - like a beacon guiding us home.
I decided to pretend it was race day. Normally, when I stop to check my sugar, eat a snack etc etc - I stop my watch. I stand still. I do what I need to do.
Sadly, on race day, they do not stop the clock for chronic diseases. Seconds tick by and, while I'm not expecting to quality for Boston, I would love to finish in under five hours. Which means I need to keep moving forward. So I decided not to stop my watch during the run. Instead I would walk briskly while checking my sugar and eating my snacks.
Finally, unlike some runners, my race pace is pretty much my normal pace. I do not pick it up on race day and adrenaline does not push me to run faster. I am very much a one pace wonder. I decided to see how hard it would be to run according to my 'race day plan'. My plan (which may or may not work but it's a guide for me to follow) is to run a pace of roughly 6:30 per kilometre during the race. I don't know if I can sustain that the whole way but I'm hoping to be able to do it for the first four hours. That should get me to about 36k in four hours meaning that I only need to run 6k in the last hour to meet my goal. That should (hopefully) allow time for unforeseen problems...
So, based on my plan, I figure every hour I will run approximately 9k (including one hourly stop for diabetes maintenance).
Back to Saturday. We headed to Niagara Falls just after 7am. I leaned my head against the window as we drove thinking "I can't believe I have to run for 3 1/2 hours" over and over again. When you have to run but haven't started yet, it's best not to think too much about what you're about to do.
We parked the car, topped up our water and hopped around trying to warm up. It was cold! Then, with a high five and a barely concealed look of mild panic (from me), we started running. I took it easy and tried to find my groove. It took about 8k but I found it. At 9k I checked my watch. It said 56 minutes. I slowed to a brisk walk, checked my sugar, ate a date and drank my water. Exactly 60 minutes. Perfect!
I kept up the pace and felt pretty good. By 16k I was getting a little tired but the thought that I could slow to a brisk walk in 2k was enough to keep me moving. Eighteen kilometres = exactly 2 hours of running. Crazy!
I decided not to stop at 27k because I only had to do three more and didn't want to lose momentum. I did peak at my watch though and discovered (with surprise) that I hit 27k in 3 hours. Now, I didn't stop so I would have probably hit it at 3:05:00 if I had but still, pretty good.
Unbelievably it was 3:21:00 on my Garmin when I trotted in to the parking lot. Done! My fastest 30k ever and I didn't stop my watch when I walked.
I was exhausted. I drank my chocolate milk and leaned my head on the window as we drove home thinking "I can't believe I ran for 3 1/2 hours" over and over again. As soon as it's over, it's almost impossible to imagine that I moved my body that far.
I proved that my race day plan is actually within the realm of reality. That did wonders for my confidence. But it knocked my socks off. We came home, stretched, showered and ate lunch. That was it. I fell into bed and fell sound asleep for over two hours. When I woke up I felt pretty good but after walking around for a bit, I discovered that my left ankle was not happy - at all. My ankle bone hurt - kinda where my shin usually hurts except it felt different. Putting pressure on it hurt, climbing stairs hurt more.
Uh, oh.
A few ibuprophen, a few stretches and a bike ride on Sunday helped loosen things up. It's still there but much better. Hopefully after Monday's day of rest things will be back to normal. We'll find out soon enough on Tuesday's run.
I pushed my body and it pushed back.
C'mon legs - we only have a few more weeks left until race day. I promise I will give you a few weeks off after we run 42k. I won't make you run one step, get up before 6am or do anything you don't feel like doing. Hold on - we're almost there.
Friday, July 15, 2011
A Change of Pace
I try really hard to be open minded about things. I try not to assume that I'm right and 'they're' wrong.
Sometimes though, I get a shock because something I took for granted suddenly gets blown apart. When something that seems so obvious that it's not even worth thinking about turns out to be wrong - well, it messes with my head.
Geoff messed with my head. He is my chiropractor who regularly saves my legs when they start acting up. I went to see him yesterday. I told him that I had been running well and virtually pain free for a few weeks. Then, on Tuesday, things flared up. Tight calves, shins, ankles, feet - the works.
We talked about what it could be. I told him that I had a great 20k long run last Saturday. I confirmed that, as instructed by our coach, I slowed my pace by about 20-30 seconds per kilometre. He smiled. Ah ha! That's probably the problem.
What?!?
In my world - the one full of rainbows, faeries and wizards - it makes complete sense that when you take it easy on a run, it's easier on your body.
It's a no brainer.
So I thought.
Geoff said that the slower a person runs, the longer their feet are in contact with the ground. Therefore the more pressure on the body with each step. In my case, it may have caused a flare up.
Seriously?
So my fall back plan of running more slowly when I'm hurting could actually be hurting me?
My world is shattered.
What else have I been doing ass backwards?
*sigh*
Moving on to cycling for a moment - has anyone been watching the Tour de France?
It has become an evening ritual and Doug and I sit glued to the television every night watching the race.
When it comes to running - I have been amazed, impressed, humbled and any other word you can think of when watching elite runners keep a pace for two hours that I couldn't sustain for 2 minutes.
But I know that, given the right motivation, I could hit their pace - even for a minute or two.
Cycling is different beast entirely. These guys sustain a pace for hours that I can't even hit. The other day they were cycling at 55km/hour. For hours. I don't even know how a human does that. I've exerted myself to what feels like my max and can't hit 35km/hour - even for a second. I barely hit 50k/hour on a downhill.
It's incomprehensible to me how they do it.
And don't even get me started about how horrifying it is to watch them ride down a mountain at 80+km/hour. Going around hairpin turns. With no barricade to separate them from a horrible death. It's normally at that point when they nonchalantly reach into their back pocket, grab a power bar, rip it open and start snacking.
I would be curled up in the fetal position by the side of the road crying - please don't make me ride down that mountain. I'll die!
Lesson for today? I need to run faster. I need to cycle faster.
Someday I'm going to find myself a sport where going slowly is the objective.
Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace?
Sometimes though, I get a shock because something I took for granted suddenly gets blown apart. When something that seems so obvious that it's not even worth thinking about turns out to be wrong - well, it messes with my head.
Geoff messed with my head. He is my chiropractor who regularly saves my legs when they start acting up. I went to see him yesterday. I told him that I had been running well and virtually pain free for a few weeks. Then, on Tuesday, things flared up. Tight calves, shins, ankles, feet - the works.
We talked about what it could be. I told him that I had a great 20k long run last Saturday. I confirmed that, as instructed by our coach, I slowed my pace by about 20-30 seconds per kilometre. He smiled. Ah ha! That's probably the problem.
What?!?
In my world - the one full of rainbows, faeries and wizards - it makes complete sense that when you take it easy on a run, it's easier on your body.
It's a no brainer.
So I thought.
Geoff said that the slower a person runs, the longer their feet are in contact with the ground. Therefore the more pressure on the body with each step. In my case, it may have caused a flare up.
Seriously?
So my fall back plan of running more slowly when I'm hurting could actually be hurting me?
My world is shattered.
What else have I been doing ass backwards?
*sigh*
Moving on to cycling for a moment - has anyone been watching the Tour de France?
It has become an evening ritual and Doug and I sit glued to the television every night watching the race.
When it comes to running - I have been amazed, impressed, humbled and any other word you can think of when watching elite runners keep a pace for two hours that I couldn't sustain for 2 minutes.
But I know that, given the right motivation, I could hit their pace - even for a minute or two.
Cycling is different beast entirely. These guys sustain a pace for hours that I can't even hit. The other day they were cycling at 55km/hour. For hours. I don't even know how a human does that. I've exerted myself to what feels like my max and can't hit 35km/hour - even for a second. I barely hit 50k/hour on a downhill.
It's incomprehensible to me how they do it.
And don't even get me started about how horrifying it is to watch them ride down a mountain at 80+km/hour. Going around hairpin turns. With no barricade to separate them from a horrible death. It's normally at that point when they nonchalantly reach into their back pocket, grab a power bar, rip it open and start snacking.
I would be curled up in the fetal position by the side of the road crying - please don't make me ride down that mountain. I'll die!
Lesson for today? I need to run faster. I need to cycle faster.
Someday I'm going to find myself a sport where going slowly is the objective.
Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace?
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Five Seconds In Three Months
I decided back in April that I should start logging my runs. Keeping track of mileage, pace, blood sugars, kilometres on my shoes etc etc.
I figured I had three options: I could develop my own spreadsheet, I could try to find one online or I could ask my marathon man what he uses.
I chose option three (of course) and have been dutifully logging every run into my shiny new spreadsheet. It's pretty cool. I alternate between two pairs of shoes and it keeps track of how many kilometres I've run on each of them. It keeps track of long runs versus intervals, races, recovery runs, easy runs or tempo runs. It figures out my pace, my weekly totals, my monthly totals and even how much further I have to run before I've run around the world. I can even track how close I am to running to the moon.
Seriously!
Imagine how cool that blog post will be. I've run to the moon! Expect to read that one some point in 2064.
Anyway, after last night's easy run I entered the data and then started playing around the spreadsheet a bit to see what other cool things there were. I found a section that figures out your average pace, per month, per type of run. So I told it to figure out my average pace for tempo ones. Tempo runs are the Tuesday and Thursday night ones when I run 10k and push my pace. Scully, in case you're wondering, that does not include the hill and interval trainings we did on those Thursday nights.
So for my Tuesday, Thursday night tempo runs, the results were pretty cool.
In April, when I started the spreadsheet, my average pace was 6:17 per kilometre.
In May, it was 6:16.
In June, it was 6:12.
Not a significant change to be sure but the pace is moving in the right direction. Particularly considering that my monthly mileage has increased every month and will continue to do so. So I'm running more AND running faster.
I remember when I started training for my first half, my pace was 7 minutes per kilometre. As the training progressed and I dutifully did my intervals, my hill training and my long runs, my pace stuck to 7 minutes per kilometre. For the next year - my pace seemed stuck at 7 minutes per kilometre no matter what I did. After about a year and a half of running, it began to change.
Slowly, ever so slowly, it picked up to 6:50, then 6:45, then 6:30.
And then for some reason, over the past few months, my pace went crazy. I went from 6:30 to 6:12 in the past six months. What's even more surprising is that it doesn't feel like I'm working any harder.
I don't know if I'll be able to sustain this new pace as the training progresses but it's pretty freakin' cool for now.
I figured I had three options: I could develop my own spreadsheet, I could try to find one online or I could ask my marathon man what he uses.
I chose option three (of course) and have been dutifully logging every run into my shiny new spreadsheet. It's pretty cool. I alternate between two pairs of shoes and it keeps track of how many kilometres I've run on each of them. It keeps track of long runs versus intervals, races, recovery runs, easy runs or tempo runs. It figures out my pace, my weekly totals, my monthly totals and even how much further I have to run before I've run around the world. I can even track how close I am to running to the moon.
Seriously!
Imagine how cool that blog post will be. I've run to the moon! Expect to read that one some point in 2064.
Anyway, after last night's easy run I entered the data and then started playing around the spreadsheet a bit to see what other cool things there were. I found a section that figures out your average pace, per month, per type of run. So I told it to figure out my average pace for tempo ones. Tempo runs are the Tuesday and Thursday night ones when I run 10k and push my pace. Scully, in case you're wondering, that does not include the hill and interval trainings we did on those Thursday nights.
So for my Tuesday, Thursday night tempo runs, the results were pretty cool.
In April, when I started the spreadsheet, my average pace was 6:17 per kilometre.
In May, it was 6:16.
In June, it was 6:12.
Not a significant change to be sure but the pace is moving in the right direction. Particularly considering that my monthly mileage has increased every month and will continue to do so. So I'm running more AND running faster.
I remember when I started training for my first half, my pace was 7 minutes per kilometre. As the training progressed and I dutifully did my intervals, my hill training and my long runs, my pace stuck to 7 minutes per kilometre. For the next year - my pace seemed stuck at 7 minutes per kilometre no matter what I did. After about a year and a half of running, it began to change.
Slowly, ever so slowly, it picked up to 6:50, then 6:45, then 6:30.
And then for some reason, over the past few months, my pace went crazy. I went from 6:30 to 6:12 in the past six months. What's even more surprising is that it doesn't feel like I'm working any harder.
I don't know if I'll be able to sustain this new pace as the training progresses but it's pretty freakin' cool for now.
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