post-run
Back in the fall, when I was cautiously walk/running on Saturday afternoons (after months of pain from the overtraining debacle that was my attempt to take up running last spring), I hoped to be healthy enough to finish the MCG Heart & Sole 5K in Augusta that started everything last year, and hoped beyond that to be able to tackle, with my wife, the Cooper Bridge Run 10K she ran with friends in Charleston last year, her first venture into such challenges.
This past Saturday was the 5K, one year after the beginning of my serious knee troubles. I've been on a written plan since the beginning of the year, patterned after a nationally reknowned running coach's instruction (put simply, I'm using the Jeff Galloway 10K training plan, minus the walk breaks, group runs, and "magic miles"), restricting myself to adding only one mile weekly, postponing run days when I don't feel up to it, and cross-training with core exercises instead of the full-body, high-intensity onslaught of resistance training that exacerbated my problems last year.
Last year's 5K saw temps in the lower 40s and gusty winds, not the most pleasant place to start a racing "career." This past Saturday, the sun was shining, breezes were light, and the thermometer read up to mid 70s. Gorgeous day!
Last year, that first 5K, I darted out too fast, with no sense of economy, like a kid trying to keep up with the leaders in a playground sprint to the swings; and I tanked, walked, ran more, walked, and finished (not feeling so well) in a bit over 28 minutes. My second 5K last April, I didn't dart so much in knee braces, but I made it through in about 26 1/2 minutes.
I told another runner, just before the start this past Saturday, that I would be pleased to finish in 26 minutes; and I would, though I was hoping for less (I'd like to think months of responsible training could produce better results than the few weeks of off-the-cuff self abuse that constituted my preparations last year.
The result? My new personal record is just under 25 minutes, just over 8 minutes-per-mile. I'm more than pleased!
The one dark spot of my run was that I took water at the halfway point. For anyone who's not a runner, 3.1 miles tends to be too short a distance to make one need hydration before the end. I followed the approach that felt good to me last year of drinking half the paper cup and dumping half on my head. The moment it hit my stomach, that water made me start to feel sick, and that feeling didn't go away for another mile or so. It was not pleasant.
What shocked me most about finishing the race Saturday, I think, is how much of a victory it really felt like. In running, although some elite runners go for "the prize," your only competition in a road race is yourself. Two races run wrong taught me not to let the "front of the pack" set my pace. But those same two races also taught me not to be discouraged when my training times didn't look like I could finish so quickly and yet healthy, because race day just makes you push harder. It does. I did. And I'm glad.
A complete aside to all this, though, is that I'm enjoying running this year more because Becca and I are getting to run our races together. Our training's completely separate in distance and timing, our race paces are far apart, but we're still enjoying the starts and the finishes, even the soreness back at home base - those stairs, ugh. But doing this with her would be good enough reason for me, I think, even if the actual running wasn't any fun. Fortunately, though, it's still a lot of fun.
Grace, peace, and more miles.
This past Saturday was the 5K, one year after the beginning of my serious knee troubles. I've been on a written plan since the beginning of the year, patterned after a nationally reknowned running coach's instruction (put simply, I'm using the Jeff Galloway 10K training plan, minus the walk breaks, group runs, and "magic miles"), restricting myself to adding only one mile weekly, postponing run days when I don't feel up to it, and cross-training with core exercises instead of the full-body, high-intensity onslaught of resistance training that exacerbated my problems last year.
Last year's 5K saw temps in the lower 40s and gusty winds, not the most pleasant place to start a racing "career." This past Saturday, the sun was shining, breezes were light, and the thermometer read up to mid 70s. Gorgeous day!
Last year, that first 5K, I darted out too fast, with no sense of economy, like a kid trying to keep up with the leaders in a playground sprint to the swings; and I tanked, walked, ran more, walked, and finished (not feeling so well) in a bit over 28 minutes. My second 5K last April, I didn't dart so much in knee braces, but I made it through in about 26 1/2 minutes.
I told another runner, just before the start this past Saturday, that I would be pleased to finish in 26 minutes; and I would, though I was hoping for less (I'd like to think months of responsible training could produce better results than the few weeks of off-the-cuff self abuse that constituted my preparations last year.
The result? My new personal record is just under 25 minutes, just over 8 minutes-per-mile. I'm more than pleased!
The one dark spot of my run was that I took water at the halfway point. For anyone who's not a runner, 3.1 miles tends to be too short a distance to make one need hydration before the end. I followed the approach that felt good to me last year of drinking half the paper cup and dumping half on my head. The moment it hit my stomach, that water made me start to feel sick, and that feeling didn't go away for another mile or so. It was not pleasant.
What shocked me most about finishing the race Saturday, I think, is how much of a victory it really felt like. In running, although some elite runners go for "the prize," your only competition in a road race is yourself. Two races run wrong taught me not to let the "front of the pack" set my pace. But those same two races also taught me not to be discouraged when my training times didn't look like I could finish so quickly and yet healthy, because race day just makes you push harder. It does. I did. And I'm glad.
A complete aside to all this, though, is that I'm enjoying running this year more because Becca and I are getting to run our races together. Our training's completely separate in distance and timing, our race paces are far apart, but we're still enjoying the starts and the finishes, even the soreness back at home base - those stairs, ugh. But doing this with her would be good enough reason for me, I think, even if the actual running wasn't any fun. Fortunately, though, it's still a lot of fun.
Grace, peace, and more miles.