the runner's rule book
One thing I've been moderately successful at documenting on LiveJournal is my quest to run a half marathon. Every time I have tried, something on me has broken. Injury the first: I registered to run the Nike Women's half, and about the time I had trained up to running five miles at a time, I stepped off a curb coming home from Starbucks and mangled my ankle. The severe sprain put me on crutches and out of the game for six weeks, at which time I had missed too much training to run. Injury the second: I registered again for the Nike Women's half, and on my first 8-mile training run I experienced a pain in my foot so terrible that I doubled over and started crying/gagging. After two weeks of not being able to walk, a podiatrist told me that I had a Morton's Neuroma -- a pinched nerve in my foot. It took me eight weeks to be able to walk like a normal person again, so I missed too much training to race. Injury the third: I spend a year and a half loosing a bunch of weight and learning to exercise -- with, like, weights and stuff -- before decided that, DAMMIT, I'm going to try to run again! Except there's this constant pain in my knee, see, and the leg keeps collapsing out from under me, and so I go see a surgeon before I commit to another race. And then I have surgery and it takes me six months to be able to run without pain.
Which brings us to today. I have been gradually getting back into running, doing about 3-4 miles at a time for the last month or so. Everything feels pretty good, and if everything goes well on Sunday, I'm going to try to drag myself, the boy and the dogs to the park to clock 5 or 6 miles. (The physical therapy from my knee included lots of hard cycling on the bike at the gym, so my fitness is good enough for the mileage. The knee is the loose canon.)
And I have just now, in the middle of typing this entry, registered to run Bay to Breakers in May. BtoB is a 12K, and I'm going to run it with a group of ladies from Hubba Hubba Revue, probably in some sort of costume. We've agreed to take it nice and slow (we're in the 12-minute mile corral) so it should be a-okay. Right? Right, stupid broken body?
So, my friend Chris (who taught me how to lift weights) saw this book on the Internet and bought it for me. It's not meant to get anyone over the finish line or anything. I read it in one BART ride and a bath. It's mostly silly commentary from a guy at "Runner's World" about things all hardcore runners know, or should know, or argue about. Such as:
If stretching seems to help you run better and feel better, stretch. If not, don't.
A personal record (PR) has a shelf life of two years.
Short shorts do not confer any benefits in the speed department.
And my very favorite sentence in the entire book: If you care even a little bit about being called a jogged versus a runner...you're a runner. By this definition, I'm totally a runner! Hooray!
Which brings us to today. I have been gradually getting back into running, doing about 3-4 miles at a time for the last month or so. Everything feels pretty good, and if everything goes well on Sunday, I'm going to try to drag myself, the boy and the dogs to the park to clock 5 or 6 miles. (The physical therapy from my knee included lots of hard cycling on the bike at the gym, so my fitness is good enough for the mileage. The knee is the loose canon.)
And I have just now, in the middle of typing this entry, registered to run Bay to Breakers in May. BtoB is a 12K, and I'm going to run it with a group of ladies from Hubba Hubba Revue, probably in some sort of costume. We've agreed to take it nice and slow (we're in the 12-minute mile corral) so it should be a-okay. Right? Right, stupid broken body?
So, my friend Chris (who taught me how to lift weights) saw this book on the Internet and bought it for me. It's not meant to get anyone over the finish line or anything. I read it in one BART ride and a bath. It's mostly silly commentary from a guy at "Runner's World" about things all hardcore runners know, or should know, or argue about. Such as:
If stretching seems to help you run better and feel better, stretch. If not, don't.
A personal record (PR) has a shelf life of two years.
Short shorts do not confer any benefits in the speed department.
And my very favorite sentence in the entire book: If you care even a little bit about being called a jogged versus a runner...you're a runner. By this definition, I'm totally a runner! Hooray!