This is what slower feels like

It's a time of involuntary rest here at S.R.S.

There was no running of the Great Pumpkin Challenge Saturday, and I won't be participating in the Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon/Squirrelly 6-miler next weekend either.

Somehow, between running a great, hard race last Sunday morning over the cross country trails and going out for a recovery run Monday evening, my left knee has become injured. I think it's a joint problem. The knee cap aches if I put even slightly more weight then regular walking on it -- say, if I'm walking down stairs or moving quickly to get in or out of the car.

Running is nearly impossible. Both times I went out this last week, I walked outside into the cold filled with energy and excitement.  As I start to warm up my legs, my lungs decide they want to go along for the ride too. I am smiling into the air, so grateful and joyed to own this one simple thing, the ability to move myself forward into space. "This is going to be a great run. I can feel it," I think.

I hardly go 3/4 of a mile on an 11-minute pace before the knee pain flares up. When I try to push through it, I begin to feel nauseous, so I walk and then start jogging again. The mysterious pain returns like a nag, getting worse with every step.

There are some frustrating moments when the pain, combined with fears of not being able to race or even get myself home from this brief outing bring me to tears in the middle of the street. Passing motorists see me clutching my knee and cursing out all that is weak within me, right there at the intersection. I give up and gingerly slog the rest of the way home, or call for a ride. I feel such loss. The other day I ran an 8-minute mile with a pack of all sorts of beautiful people in the brilliant sunlight.  Now I am limping alone through the dark.

What seems like a host of other life happenings, in addition to this ill-timed injury, converged toward the end of this week and threw me into an emotional tailspin. Here's hoping that some rest and QT with family this week will help me get back on track.

The pros and cons of age 25

I've 25 now and that means lots of new things, some of which are:

1. Cheaper car insurance. I really worked the system this month and knocked $100 off my premium through sheer genius negotiating. I don't know if this is necessarily a matter of age, but we'll just chalk it up to wisdom from years of experience.

2. Mechanic at shop makes me consider never again leaving the house without putting on mascara by asking me randomly "Do you have class today?" while I'm waiting for my car to get an oil change. Guess he took my "just rolled out of bed and schlepped over here, and I don't care what I look like because this is my day off" appearance for that of a college student. Great. Just great.

3. I'm increasingly having to make room in my budget for gifts for friends who are getting married, and the proper attire to attend these matrimonial ceremonies. [Decided not to insert inappropriate comment here. Foot remains outside of mouth.]

4. I'm getting nervous about continuing to use my SUNY Brockport ID card to get discounts when buying stuff. The photo is now more than seven years old...

5. But most importantly, what 25 really means is that I've moved into a new age group division in running races. Instead of being the oldest in my bracket, women 20-24, I'm the youngest in the 25-29 division. Which means my chances are better for placing in my division.

Yesterday, I placed 3rd out of 8 in my new age group in the 5K Saratoga National Cross Country Classic. Too bad I didn't stick around long enough after the race to hear about it first-hand. A pancake breakfast was calling my name. But it was still super exciting.

My time of about 26:18 was my personal record in an official race, just a few seconds faster than the Fasig Tipton 5K in August. But if it weren't for those winding, gravel-covered hills in the Ferndell area of the state park, I think I would have shaved off 20 seconds and hit my goal, which was to finish under 26 minutes.

Ah well. Mile two was a killer, and I stopped to walk once after the hill. That's what got me.

Overall, it was the most enjoyable race I've done out of the six I've ran since April.

Everything came together: the weather was perfect, I was dressed exactly right so as to be not too warm or too cold, I ate breakfast and was hydrated, I wasn't really nervous because I had trained appropriately, I wasn't tired because I took off work the night before, I had time to warm up because I actually got to the park early and I had the great support of AB to park the car, hold my bag of essentials while I raced and catch me at the finish:

What a guy!

Alas, all wonderful 3-day weekends must come to an end. I'm icing my hurting knee in preparation for what will hopefully be a solid, sunny week of running in preparation for Saturday's Great Pumpkin Challenge.

It doesn't matter how slow you go, as long as you do not stop

After mulling over some sage advice from AB, who is a much more disciplined and established athlete than I, I've decided to ease up on this week's 17-mile goal.

While I didn't think 5 miles more than last week sounded like much -- it could all be done in one extra day of running, after all! -- another way of looking at it, as AB pointed out, is that it's more than a 30 percent increase in mileage from week to week. 

That sounds like a lot. And it makes sense. There's no need to risk injury when there are several races coming up. Add to this that it's been raining like Noah's ark is ready to float out of upstate New York, and I don't feel too bad easing down on the miles.

Like tonight -- I was planning for a couple easy miles, but when I got home around 10:30, it was cold and rainy. So, I opted for a glass of wine instead. Getting drenched during Monday night's 3.6 mile adventure, followed by a solid 3.3 miles under clear skies Tuesday was enough for one week -- at least until tomorrow.

I'll aim for a 14-mile week instead. Fortunately, Thursday's forecast after 1 p.m. is all sun/clouds and no precipitation.

Unfortunately, I'll never be as hilarious as this guy while running in the rain. 

And in honor of breast cancer awareness month and one inspiring, proactive blogger, I'll sign off with a little pink to lighten the mood.

Weekend rundown

Hours worked: 14

Miles ran: 2.74

Cups of coffee: 3 

Loads of dishes/laundry done: 5

Hours of sleep needed, to recover from last week: 26

My plan for this coming week is very ambitious: Since I did not do the Pit Run today, and in preparation for the upcoming races in the rest of October, I will attempt to run five out of the next seven days.

My whiteboard currently looks something like this:

Monday: 4 miles
Tuesday: 5 miles
Wednesday: 2 miles
Thursday: 3 miles
Friday: Rest
Saturday: 3 miles
Sunday: Rest

With the itty bitty run I did earlier this evening, my total mileage for the week ended up just shy of 11 miles -- once an unthinkable number. My big training goal was striving for a 9-mile week just a couple months ago.

Now that a few, albeit nonconsecutive, 10- to 12-mile weeks are under my belt, it's obviously freaking cold out time to stop complaining about the weather and take my training to the next level.

Operation 17 Miles This Week has officially commenced!

Record Wednesday

I'm not sayin' it's time to change the name of this blog or anything, but tonight there was definitely some fast running in Saratoga on my part.
 I ran three miles in 25 minutes, and finished a full 5K (3.1 miles) a few seconds later. My average pace was 8:51 per mile, which is about 60 seconds faster than usual for my training runs.

Without even meaning to run fast, I kicked it up a notch tonight on the pavement, basically because I had dinner plans and I only had a limited amount of time to exercise. The adrenaline that would speed me along at a race suddenly flooded out in the anticipation of a fun, relaxing evening ahead.

25 minutes has been my 5K goal since June, but it's never really felt within reach. It was always like, "well, maybe one day when I'm a real runner, I'll run a fast 5K and finish first in my age group."

Tonight's run was the first time I've broken out of the 26th minute -- calmly, naturally and completely unexpectedly.

Now I've recovered and I'm full of home-cooked pad thai and it's time to go to bed. More running tomorrow night, hopefully, although this weather forecast from weather.com does not sound promising:

A wind driven heavy rain. Low 63F. Winds SSE at 15 to 25 mph. Chance of rain 90%. Rainfall possibly over two inches. 

Natural remedies

I had an intense headache when I left work tonight and shuffled the couple of blocks home through the dark, post-rainy-day mist.

It was a stressful, 10-hour day, complete with a few of the best headache-inducing incidents possible at work: having my computer crash multiple times, getting hung up on and not drinking enough water.

Every part of me yearned to walk in my door, throw my bags down, kick off my shoes and commence a full-on night of zoning out, complete with a large dose of ibuprofen, a nice tall glass/es of pinot grigio and a lame Netflix selection.

But no.

Another part of me wanted to go running and I knew that if I did, the headache would disappear on its own. I told myself that wallowing in the pain and calories would only lead to guilt later. Plus, due to work and traveling this weekend (check later this week for a post on Boston), it had been way too long since my last run.

So I set out for the East Side in the breezy, deliciously warm and humid evening and had myself a nice 4.6 mile run.

The headache was a distant memory before I clocked mile #2. Then I was flying up Caroline Street at race pace and keeping my breathing steady and strong, slowing down to a jog at intervals when I got tired rather than walking.

I ended it by taking on the same hill that served as the course finale at the Firecracker 4 in July. Compared to almost three months ago, my endurance was much greater. I ran the hill without stopping and did not come close to hyperventilating at the top, unlike last time.

It sure helped that tonight was about 25 degrees cooler than at that race, but I felt the difference nonetheless. I've done this hill since July 4th too, in other night-time summer runs, but not at the same steady pace and not without stopping.

With mission accomplished, I jogged home and flopped on the floor for awhile, pretending to stretch.

Then, I poured myself a nice tall glass of wine.

Self-pat on the back

I took a hiatus from the office and hitting the pavement today, and drove down to Albany to hang out with other journos from the New York State Associated Press Association.

The Saratogian is a member of the AP, and this year I was given the opportunity to join in on their annual fall meeting, which was a day-long series of talks on state reform and accountability journalism.

For my part, I was asked to speak on a three-person panel with other winners of the AP's Depth Reporting award for 2009-2010, which I received for my series of stories published in November 2009 on homelessness in Saratoga County. The panel included a Times Union reporter and a Post-Star reporter. We spent about an hour talking about our investigative reporting projects and how they were managed in newsrooms with smaller staffs and less resources than ever.

What was cool is that people seemed genuinely interested in how the homeless series came together, and how I collaborated with editors, photogs, paginators and others to turn it from vision to reality. It was nice to be recognized for all that hard work I did last fall, when I spent countless nights at Uncommon Grounds, writing until I couldn't see straight anymore, wondering if it would ever be done, and if it did get done, if it would be worth reading. Well, I guess I got my answer!

The day was also a great opportunity to meet lots of other journalists from New York and the Capital Region in particular, and one also from Jackson, Mississippi -- the supremely accomplished and engaging Jerry Mitchell. He is an investigative reporter for The Clarion-Ledger there, and he told us stories over lunch about what it was like interviewing a former Ku Klux Klan member and how his work on Civil Rights-era cold cases ultimately led to several convictions.

If you're not a journalist, this might all sound like a big bunch of nerds gabbing about the seemingly strange stuff that gets them off, but to me, it was invigorating. It reassured my faith in the value of journalism and my desire to make it my career, despite all the tough stuff about the profession, and renewed my drive (which, I hate to admit, has been slacking considerably, lately) to keep going out there and telling stories, in some form or another. 

Another notable part of the day was the appearance of gubernatorial candidate (in question) Rick Lazio ... although, from the way he answered avoided questions from the reporters and editors gathered in the room, his status as a candidate may change in a couple days.

We had a drinks-and-mingle thingy, then dinner, and ended the looong day with an awards banquet, where Saratogian folks were among those who got up to receive several awards for awesome work. It was great, but I also left feeling like I needed a new brain to hold all the stimulus in. Or maybe I just needed to come home, curl up side by side with my also-blogging boyfriend, and write about it all.

Oy, I can't wait to put on my sneakers tomorrow and blast the miles out!

Sick week lapse; next week will be better

While this week was pitiful as far as physical exercise goes, it was pretty awesome in so many other ways. There was much consumption of rich food and alcoholic beverages, being irreparably spoiled by my amour and nice presents and cards and birthday wishes. All while dealing with one hell of a cold (the only part that was not awesome). 

But now that my birthday week has come to a close, my cold has mostly disappeared, and I've got a couple of writing projects and the dishes out of the way, this weekend has been about getting back into my routine. That means running at least three times a week (no excuses!), going to sleep earlier and not eating such copious amounts of pizza.

Sunday, I ran from my home, up Broadway to the state park and looped around the Avenue of the Pines/Gideon Putnam Road and back, for a total of 4.9 miles.





Saturday I did a similar route, but drove to the park and did two laps around the Ave. of Pine route for 3.78 miles.  

Monday, when I was sick, I thought it would be a good idea to get outside and exercise after sleeping all day and eating almost nothing. Remember, this followed the weekend of booze and cupcakes. Well, I won't make that mistake again.

It was tough getting back into my groove again this weekend, and now I can't walk very well -- but, I caught a few minutes of that runner's high that I really missed this week when I was busy sitting on my ass.

The weather has been cooler and it was windy today, but it makes for great running. No need to buy special cold-weather gear. Yet...

However, October is full of challenging racing opportunities, and I'm probably going to need some retail therapy to get through them all:

Oct. 3: The 17th annual Pit Run on my home turf in Oneonta

Oct. 17: Saratoga National Bank Cross Country Classic 5K here in the state park

Oct. 23: The Great Pumpkin Challenge 5K to benefit Saratoga Bridges here in the state park

Oct. 31: The Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon and Squirrelly Six Mile in Voorheesville

I'm 25 and I'm fine

It's minutes until the stroke of midnight on my official birth day, and I am sitting on the couch wrapped in blankets, popping cough drops, blowing my nose every two seconds and drinking tea. I guess that's what I get for partying all weekend long...
 
It was totally worth it though. While the weekend did not include any running, I did exercise my lungs a lot while laughing my head off with a couple of the best girl friends on the planet, as we worked our way through pedicures, a pitcher of margaritas, Mexican dinner deliciousness, Sunday brunch, and shopping. Phew. That's a long list of girly stuff. 

Before all the girly stuff, a whole group of wonderful friends and family members joined me in celebrating a quarter of a century with a potluck picnic in the state park, as sunshine washed over us. I attempted to use an outdoor charcoal grill and baked cupcakes from scratch (not at the same time, both for the first time in my life!) and no one has called me yet complaining of food poisoning ... it's been more than three days so I think I'm safe.

In my family, we don't usually make a big deal out of birthdays, especially now that my sisters and I are older. We always take care to mark the occasion with a couple of cards and a special dinner with Mom and Dad, maybe a cake.

But this year is different. I'm celebrating so much more than a number and a day -- I'm celebrating, with relief and pride, the end of a long, tired period of grief and the renewal of self that could have only occurred after surviving a treacherous journey and conquering my personal Kilimanjaro.

Kinda vague, I know, but hey, it's the Internet.

This sentiment I attempted to make clear in a sort of speech at my birthday gathering on Saturday. It's sad but true -- I'm a whole lot more articulate when it comes to the written word, but I hope one thing came across in my garbled burst of emotion: This fall marks a real turning point in life and an occasion to acknowledge all the unanticipated goodness that has surrounded me this year. It has come in the guise of family and friends who never wavered in their love and support no matter the circumstances, as well as personal and professional successes. For all that I am grateful.

I'll give you readers a break now from all the serious stuff. My next post will be about something fun, like, you know, slow running. And how those cupcakes are contributing to my slooow, sloow running.

This post has nothing to do with running

So it's almost 7 pm and I'm finding myself at home, having left the newspaper office after a day of writing and with an hour to think before I head out for the night to Job #2 and don't have time to think anymore.

I've been writing, writing and writing at work, even more than usual due to some short staffing, and then when I come home late at night, I've been trying ...to write...some more... to advance my personal and professional goals. But it's a struggle. I haven't been sleeping enough. My mind is too full. Sometimes I just need to claw my way out of my head, and I don't know how.

As usual, I am feeling anxious and overwhelmed about my current workload, and frustrated by how long it's taking me to complete things, and to put my goals into action. Weekends exist only as slightly less stressful days of work, but there is always work to be done. There is no time for mental relaxation.

Any other writers out there who really loathe the process of writing but feel compelled beyond your control to do it? Like there isn't any other thing you'd feel right spending so much time on but that saps your energy completely?

I mean, I love telling people's stories through words. A good story gives me a high better than any drug could. 

For the first time, recently, I admitted to myself that this whole love-hate relationship with writing thing is not something that's really going to go away. If I'm going to write for a living, I better learn how to do it well without killing myself doing it. Otherwise, I'd better become a full-time pizza delivery girl, because what else is there for me to do?

Just kidding. Sort of.

Obviously, not so much writing has been going on the blog lately, and I haven't been running much this week either. I feel rather disgusting. I think it's a summer/fall transition thing. The seasons are changing, and with them, my habits. Spring and summer is when I go out into the world to be with people, drawing inspiration from nature and letting new ideas percolate. Fall is always full of beginnings for me, putting the ideas into action and spending more time curled up at home, writing late into the night.

As my birthday comes closer, the only gift I'm asking for is to figure out how to pay for life (i.e. student loans, rent, possibly food) and still have time for myself. It would be nice if that did not involve delivering pizza to drunk people until 2:30 a.m.

And with that, I'm off to deliver pizza to drunk people until 2:30 a.m.