Long runs in the snow
Today was a wonderful, boring run. Yesterday afternoon it decided to start seriously snowing, and it hasn't quite stopped yet. The weather forecast this morning called for colder weather and more snow during the weekend. So I knew I had to get out pretty soon. After some procrastinating hoping that the snow might stop, I was finally out the door, to discover that the snow had picked up again. Oh well.
This run falls into three stages. The first twenty minutes I just shuffle along, getting used to the fresh snow, and enjoying being on that instead of last weekend's icy old stuff. This part runs along a wide river which is still partly frozen over. Part way along I come across the body parts of a former snowman out in the middle of the river, with footprints (of the maker? or the assailant?) leading off to both banks.
The second stage is out around the edge of a lake, less familiar territory. For much of the way though, there's a big wide path, popular with walkers and cyclists in the summer. Today it was a little quieter. Here I run along vehicle tracks, switching from one to the other to pass pedestrians and their little dogs. Car tracks can often be icy, and therefore treacherous, but today, covered by fresh snow, they were a much more predictable surface than the chewed-up pathway between then. After ten minutes or so I leave them, continuing on around to much quieter parts. Snow blows in sideways from off the lake. There's a small gaggle of ice fisherman out there, looking a bit like penguins, crouched over their little holes. With no more vehicle tracks, the path is more difficult.
At my turn-around point, I remember that last week I headed back away from the shoreline, and try this "inland" path again. This is a good choice. I'm the first person through this area today, and I get to splash my way through fresh snow varying between 2 and 5 centimetres deep. The way is criss-crossed with small tracks, from rabbits, perhaps. I discover I have keep an eye out for covered sticks and fallen-down tree branches though.
This way leads me to a wide path, where I find the deep narrow double grooves of cross-country ski tracks. I run alongside them for a while, and then gradually catch up to a gentleman skiing his way through the woods. I pass him, laughing at his little joke. I'd like to run along with him and chat, but I don't feel my German is up to it, so have to just run off. It's a shame; it would have been good to share this back-of-the woods experience. I head back towards the lake and civilisation, and am surprised to find more skiers.
Which leads to the third part: the long half hour heading for home. My lips are cold, and my toes feel like they're headed that way fast. I imagine these last six kilometres are along the beautiful Waitemata harbour in an Auckland March, or Stanley Park in Vancouver, or the last day of my IET course. I think about a cup of tea soon, and pizza, and second breakfast. My mind wanders off, and I have to concentrate to bring it back to left-right-left-right, knees, ankles, breath in, breath out.
After 91 minutes, I'm done. Haven't seen any squirrels, or deer, or even many birds. But I haven't slipped and twisted anything, and I feel fine.
My goals for this up-coming half marathon, other than getting to the start on time and uninjured are, in order of importance
BTW, inspiration for this partly comes from Hal Higdon's "Marathon: The Ultimate Training Guide". It's a good read, totally focussed on helping you run your marathon. Though all the distances are in miles.
This run falls into three stages. The first twenty minutes I just shuffle along, getting used to the fresh snow, and enjoying being on that instead of last weekend's icy old stuff. This part runs along a wide river which is still partly frozen over. Part way along I come across the body parts of a former snowman out in the middle of the river, with footprints (of the maker? or the assailant?) leading off to both banks.
The second stage is out around the edge of a lake, less familiar territory. For much of the way though, there's a big wide path, popular with walkers and cyclists in the summer. Today it was a little quieter. Here I run along vehicle tracks, switching from one to the other to pass pedestrians and their little dogs. Car tracks can often be icy, and therefore treacherous, but today, covered by fresh snow, they were a much more predictable surface than the chewed-up pathway between then. After ten minutes or so I leave them, continuing on around to much quieter parts. Snow blows in sideways from off the lake. There's a small gaggle of ice fisherman out there, looking a bit like penguins, crouched over their little holes. With no more vehicle tracks, the path is more difficult.
At my turn-around point, I remember that last week I headed back away from the shoreline, and try this "inland" path again. This is a good choice. I'm the first person through this area today, and I get to splash my way through fresh snow varying between 2 and 5 centimetres deep. The way is criss-crossed with small tracks, from rabbits, perhaps. I discover I have keep an eye out for covered sticks and fallen-down tree branches though.
This way leads me to a wide path, where I find the deep narrow double grooves of cross-country ski tracks. I run alongside them for a while, and then gradually catch up to a gentleman skiing his way through the woods. I pass him, laughing at his little joke. I'd like to run along with him and chat, but I don't feel my German is up to it, so have to just run off. It's a shame; it would have been good to share this back-of-the woods experience. I head back towards the lake and civilisation, and am surprised to find more skiers.
Which leads to the third part: the long half hour heading for home. My lips are cold, and my toes feel like they're headed that way fast. I imagine these last six kilometres are along the beautiful Waitemata harbour in an Auckland March, or Stanley Park in Vancouver, or the last day of my IET course. I think about a cup of tea soon, and pizza, and second breakfast. My mind wanders off, and I have to concentrate to bring it back to left-right-left-right, knees, ankles, breath in, breath out.
After 91 minutes, I'm done. Haven't seen any squirrels, or deer, or even many birds. But I haven't slipped and twisted anything, and I feel fine.
My goals for this up-coming half marathon, other than getting to the start on time and uninjured are, in order of importance
- to finish with less pain than last time
- to be faster than last time - 2:08, I think
- to finish in under two hours
- One long run a week, building up from around 8 km at the start of February to 18 km next week.
- Short runs of about half that distance, 2-3x per week. Preferably 3x, since I'm not doing any other significant exercise at the moment, but I'll settle for 2x when things are busy at work.
BTW, inspiration for this partly comes from Hal Higdon's "Marathon: The Ultimate Training Guide". It's a good read, totally focussed on helping you run your marathon. Though all the distances are in miles.