Time in the Saddle

Last Sunday, we had a pretty tight schedule. We needed to be at the golf course before 1pm in order to make our tee time. I wanted to visit my grandmother which meant leaving before 10:30am in order to be back on time. And we both wanted to squeeze in a bike ride.

So we were up and at'em before 7am in order to be on the bikes before 8am in order to be home before 9:30am so I could eat and shower and be out the door by 10:30am.

We did one of our familiar routes which is hilly but not too hilly. It's exactly 28km in distance and takes us through so many orchards and vineyards that we can keep tabs on what fruits are over for the season (cherries), which ones are in full swing (peaches) and which ones are on their way (apples and pears!).

The first half of this route has no turns. We just hunker down and pedal for all we're worth. About halfway down that road, I took the lead for a while and we were going at a nice clip of about 28km/hour. As we approached an intersection, another cyclist was coming up the side street. He saw us and decided to turn before we got there so he was now ahead of us. At first I thought nothing of it. He had a sweet-looking bike and all the right gear so I figured he'd leave us in his dust.

He didn't.

He was going about 30km/hour. Completely respectable of course but I soon found myself on his back tire and needing to brake.

So I passed him.

I passed a cyclist going 30km/hour and had absolutely no problems doing it. I just rode right by, wished him a hello and a good day, with Doug right behind me. We never saw him again.

As a cyclist who can cycle a 40k triathlon ride and get passed by rider after rider without ever passing anyone, I had to say that felt pretty freaking good.

Those early morning bike rides really are paying off. The fact that I felt the need to go fast in order to get home on time for the next phase in our busy day probably helped too.

I guess mon ami Jeff was right. The best way to get better on the bike is to spend more time in the saddle.

A Little Coaching May Be Needed

So here's the thing.

When I first started running, I joined a running clinic where I learned how to run properly, how to pace myself, how and when to use gels and body glide, how to run hills and how to do interval training on my own. They took me from newbie to half marathoner and I will be forever grateful for that.

Once I got the hang of things though, I stopped going to the running clinics. The clinic times didn't really work for me since I preferred pre-work runs rather that post-work ones and I didn't need the motivation factor since I'm pretty good at kicking my own ass into gear. Also, there was pretty much nothing they were able to teach me about how to run with diabetes so I got used to figuring things out on my own and just kept doing that.

A lot of things have changed thought since I stopped going to the running clinics. I have taken up cycling. And swimming. And duathlons and triathlons. And I've gradually pieced together my own training routine based on trying to fit all three sports into a week and making sure I was able to do the distances required. Sometimes I even tossed in a few brick workouts although I must admit that I haven't done one of those all summer.

Anyway, I'm starting to feel that I've gone as far as I'm going to go on my own. I seem to have plateau in terms of running speed and I don't think I've come close to unlocking my potential on the bike. If I want to get better at triathlons, if I want to be able to finish strong, do the distance, cross the finish line in a decent time etc etc, I'm going to have to get some training advice.

Whether that comes from a real life coach, an online coach, a really good training plan, a decent triathlon book, I don't yet know. But I think it might be time to see if I can get a little stronger and a little faster by tweaking a few things.

So I'm on the hunt for either a coach, an online coach, a great and helpful website or a useful book. And hey, if they know a few things about doing all of that with Type 1 diabetes, all the better.

If anyone out there has any advice on where to go next, I'm all ears.

An Unexpected Pace Bunny

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.

All Figured Out?

I have had diabetes for 11 years, 10 months and 7 days. 

You'd think I'd have it all figured out by now. 

I like numbers and patterns and I have a degree in biology. Heck, I even took an entire course called "The Discovery of Insulin". 

You'd think I'd have it all figured out by now. 

I like routine and, when something works, I do it over and over rather than messing with a good thing. 

You'd think I'd have it all figured out by now. 

And yet...

Yesterday morning I did my 6x800m speed workout. Other than my easy 1.5k warmup where I lope along at a leisurely pace, the rest of the workout is basically me sprinting as fast as possible at a speed I can just barely maintain for the entire 800m. I take a 2 minute rest. I do it again. The entire workout is just under 7k in distance and takes the same amount of time as when I run 7k but I'm running 12 fewer minutes overall because of the rest. 

When I run 7k at a steady pace, my blood sugar steadily drops throughout the entire run. In order to deal with that, I typically eat one (or two) dates before my run, depending on my blood sugar. The dates keep me pretty steady and I have been known to start and end many a morning run at the same blood sugar number - right down to the decimal point. 

When I run 7k in a speed workout, my blood sugar does not drop steadily throughout the run. It seems to either stay steady or even climb a bit. Having a date beforehand is not necessary and it can even cause a spike in blood sugar that is neither helpful nor particularly nice-feeling. 

But I have to tell you that it takes a lot of willpower NOT to have a date on speed work mornings. My brain keeps telling me I will go low if I don't. It freaks me out to do such a tough workout with no backup sugar on board. I stalk my CGM like a hawk during the workout and I put several packs of emergency carbs on the roof of my car just in case. Even though the distance between the roof of my car and my kitchen is about 50 feet. Because you never know. 

So I have figured out short steady runs (eat 1-2 dates) and I have figured out speed workouts (DON'T EAT A DATE!). I have not yet mastered hill workouts. They are tough sprint-like runs with rest periods built in. Kinda like speed workouts. And yet I seem to trend downward as I would in a regular run. The problem is that hill workouts don't take that long and I don't do them that often so I have yet to figure out the pattern. 

So I eat my date because it makes me feel better. I bring extra carbs with me because that is the sensible thing to do. And I bolus a tiny bit extra with my breakfast if I climbed to high (ha!) during the hill workout. I guess that means I have figured out a pattern while I figure out the pattern. 

Of course all of this will be shot to hell when the temperature dips below zero again and the winter winds blow cold and strong.

Unplanned Tempos

Tuesday morning was a tough one for getting up and out of bed at 5:15.

I just wasn't feeling it and would much rather have stayed in bed for another 75 minutes.

"Get your ass up!" said that sometimes helpful, often annoying, voice in my head. "And be quick about it, Doug has a busy day ahead of him and needs his sleep."

I grumbled in my head and tiptoed off to the bathroom, not even bothering to argue with myself that I too had a busy day and could have used my sleep. Instead of arguing, I was making up excuses as I went. Don't even worry about running all 7k. Just do 6k. You prefer even numbers anyway. Heck. It's been a few weeks since you've have an honest to goodness 'easy week' so maybe you should just do 5k. Blah blah blah. Thank goodness I've mastered the art of making excuse while completely ignoring them and doing what I know I should be doing.

I pulled on a t-shirt instead of a tank top because the air coming in the window was chillier than it should have been for a July morning. I ate a date and stuffed some emergency carbs in the zippered pocket of my shorts. I opened the door, shivered, crossed my arms across my chest and shuffled to the end of the driveway. I looked both ways just in case someone else was up, started my watch and headed off.

The first kilometre felt the way it always feels. Slow to warm up. Breath a bit laboured. Legs sluggish and cranky. I kept going knowing it would get better. My watch beeped and I saw 6:35 pop up. The time it took for the first kilometre. Typical for me.

The second kilometre felt the same. My watch beeped and I saw 6:33 pop up. Typical metronome pace on a typical Tuesday morning run.

I kept going and realized I was feeling better than I thought I did. Certainly better than I felt 13 minutes earlier. Perhaps it was the cool morning air? One kilometre later I saw a 6:30 pop up. That's funny. I don't usually get faster every kilometre.

I wonder if I can do it again?

I tried to pick up my pace just a bit. I didn't want to go crazy and then blow up before I finished but a little part of me was curious to see if the early morning speed workouts I had been doing had improved my ability to pick up the pace a bit and hold it.

The next kilometre was 6:28. Good. Let's speed it up a bit more.

6:18 for the fifth kilometre and I was feeling better by the minute. I didn't even have to convince myself to keep going. I just wanted to. Down one street, around the corner, up another street.

The sixth kilometre took 6:11 and it included the only hill on the route. Nothing crazy but I usually lose a few seconds on it. I don't gain them. I even timed the light well and didn't have to stop. Usually timing it right means I get to stop but I was in no mood to lose my rhythm.

The last kilometre felt great. I knew I was tiring but kept going knowing it was almost over.

6:12.

Not bad for a tired girl who almost didn't get out of bed.

Looks like Tuesday mornings might become tempo run days.

It is true you know. The only runs you regret are the ones you don't do.

Building in a Bit of Rest

I've been back in the pool for two weeks now. I swam twice last week and I'm in shape to get three swims in this week.

I've gone from survival mode to slow and struggling to I can handle it and finally, yesterday, to I think I'm back.

I'm not back to my best ever swimming form by any means but I no longer feel mild panic when I hear the workout. I just buckle down and do it.

Yesterday was a pretty hectic workout. There was a lot to do and very little down time.

Our warmup alone was 1500m of swimming, kicking and pulling.

Once that was done, our main set was a total of 25x50m. Some were fast, some were build and some were 'easy' but all of them were on one minute.

As soon as that was done I was told I had to do 2x100m fast on 4:00.

"You want me to swim 100m twice in 4 minutes?" I asked.

"No, I want you to swim 100m as fast as you can and then take the rest of the 4 minutes to rest. Then I want you to do it again" I was told.

"So if I swim 100m in 1:45 that means I have 2:15 to rest?" I asked.

"Exactly".

That is a ton of rest.

At the top of the clock I pushed of and I went all out. I figured I had a lot of recovery time so there was no point in saving myself. I hit the wall in 1:42 which, for me, is pretty zippy. Considering I've only been back swimming for two weeks, that was really really speedy.

I then stood at the side, sipping my drink and relaxing for over 2 minutes. It felt weird. It felt luxurious. It felt good to completely recover.

When it came time for the second 100m I had enough energy to give it my all and I did. Arms and legs were churning from one end to the other. I hit the wall in 1:37.

I had knocked five seconds off an already fast time. Simply because I had two minutes rest.

Nice!

6x800m and an Irish setter

In the fall of 2011 I developed a stress fracture. I was a few weeks away from my first marathon and the increased running had finally caught up to me, causing me to take 8 weeks off, miss the marathon entirely, discover swimming and eventually become a triathlete. 

During that marathon training, I was doing regular interval training in an effort to increase my speed a bit. 

Once I returned to running in the early cold days of 2012, I avoided doing anything other than regular running for fear of reinjuring myself. After a while that just became the norm and I no longer did interval training at all. I just ran. Short distances. Long ones. Always at the same pace. 

Yesterday, a full 2 1/2 years after my post-stress fracture return to running, I did interval training. Why? Because I feel like it's time to kick it up a notch and I am sick of running the same pace. 

Guess what happened? 

I remembered!

I remembered how much I used to love intervals. The easy warm up. The tough push to keep running right to the end of the interval even though your lungs are heaving and your legs are screaming. The wonderful, blessed two minutes of recovery and then the challenge of doing it all over again and trying to beat the time before. 

I remembered how much fun that used to be. How I never thought I would get through however many we had to do but I always did and always felt great afterwards. The kind of great when your body feels tight and strong and yet your bones feel soft with fatigue. 

As I prepared for this return to intervals I was happy to discover that once around my block is exactly 800m. Since 800m is my favourite interval distance I decided to start with my favourite workout: 6x800m. 

I circled the block twice to warm up, stopped for a minute to stretch my calves and sip some Nuun, and then I headed off for my first one. 

I started off at a gallop and had no idea how long it would take me to get all the way around. I also didn't know if the pace I started off at was sustainable for the entire distance. I was expecting to work hard. I was expecting to be tired. It was not expecting to have to stop 30 seconds into that first interval. But I did. Why? Because a rather large Irish setter I had never seen before was running straight for me. I stopped and calmly extended my hand for him (her?) to sniff me hoping he (she?) was as friendly as they looked. I was sniffed and then, feeling safe enough, I took off again for the last 750m. Followed by an eager red dog galloping along beside me. 

I stopped back at the start and was pleased to discover that I could make it all the way around going as fast as I could without collapsing in a heap. 

The dog got bored about 30 seconds into my rest and decided to explore my backyard. One minute in, it came back and then took off down the street. 

I did my second loop feeling strong and much more confident. I made it all the way around without mishap. Another rest. Another few gulps of Nuun. Blood sugar holding steady at 5.9. 

My third time around I found a man whistling and hollering in the middle of the street. I sighed and stopped again. "Are you looking for a red dog?" I asked. "Yes" he replied looking frazzled in his pyjamas. If he had hair I would guess it would have been sticking straight up. "He went that way" I pointed and took off again. "Thanks!" he yelled and hopped into his car. 

Once I had finished 3 out of 6 intervals, I was already counting down instead of counting up. I knew I should stop at 6 even though I was having so much fun. I did 4 and 5 feeling pretty good I was tiring. Number 6 was pretty tough. I willed my legs to keep going and willed my lungs to keep pumping. They did but I knew it was time to quit. Intervals are about quality as much as quantity. 

I had no idea what to expect for time since it had been over 2 years since I had last done this. Here is how long each 800m sprint took to run:

1. 4:14

2. 4:18

3. 4:15

4. 4:20

5. 4:14

6. 4:20

Good? Bad? I have no idea anymore but at least I have a baseline to work with for next time. 

Even more exciting. I did a total of 6.68km in 37 minutes. I realize I had breaks in there that allowed me to run that pace but it's still pretty cool to be able to run that fast. Even for a little while. 

Next Thursday should have been hill training (another favourite) but I will be in Orlando for the Friends for Life conference. Not sure how many hills there are in central Florida but I'm guessing the hills will have to wait until I get back. 

I am, however, not dismissing the idea of finding an 800m stretch of road, parking lot or whatever to squeeze in an early morning interval session. I'm definitely bringing my running clothes but I think I'll toss in some NUUN and a water bottle too. 

Any readers out there going to FFL? Let me know if you want me to meet up for some 800m repeats on Thursday before breakfast.

Time to Shake it up Again

I am often surprised at how quickly I can settle into a routine. A week or two is often all it takes for me to turn something new into a habit.

This is often a good skill to have and I take advantage of it when I can.

It can often, however, leave me at a disadvantage.

Last fall, I decided for reasons unknown to me at the time, that I needed to get better at running hills. I also decided that I did not just want to do hill workouts. I wanted to incorporate hills into my regular runs.

So I changed my weekday morning route from 5-7k to 8k and added a pretty tough hill into the route. I also changed my long runs to incorporate that same hill as well as anther tough hill. No matter how tired I was, no matter how much I didn't feel like forcing myself up those hills, I refused to change the route. And trust me, at 6am, I often wanted nothing more than a mindless (and flat!) running route. As a result of my stubbornness and my new-found routine, I've gotten better at hills and better at recovering from them in the middle of long runs.

My Boxing Day PB proved that as did my 20k long run in Florida that, as I discovered, was chock full of hills - some of them pretty tough. I ran up them all, continued running once I reached the top and still had enough energy to do the distance.

Getting better at hills is the positive outcome of my forcing myself into a new habit.

Getting slower overall was the negative one.

During the winter months I ran more slowly than I was used to running simply because of all the snow and ice. It was impossible to gallop down the street and I setting into a safer, slower pace that slowed even more when I climbed hills.

Now the snow is melted and I've done a few runs on bare pavement. My pace, despite efforts on my part to push a little harder, does not seem to want to come back to it's pre-winter speed.

It looks like I'm going to have to get into a new running routine. One that has me continuing to run my hilly routes but that also includes one speed workout per week. I haven't done specific speed workout in over two years. Between injuries, recoveries, and triathlon training, it just never seemed to fit easily into the routine.

Guess it's time for a new routine.

Again.