Head Games

I just had my first thirty mile week.

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.

Since I've never been concerned with mile accumulation, I can't be certain this past week was the first time I've ever logged thirty miles over seven days.  I'm pretty sure it is, though.  I mean, thirty miles?!  That's pretty far.  Also, I don't know why I would choose to run that many miles without a particular goal in mind.  Let's just say, for simplicity's sake, this was my first thirty mile week.  Deal?

Trust me, I am painfully aware a marathon is only four miles shorter than this thirty mile accomplishment.  I get that, come April, I will run twenty-six miles in one day instead of in one week.  But that's still over five months away.  For now, I have thirty miles in one week and you know what?  I couldn't be more psyched about it.

This past week has taught me a few things:

1.  A foam roller is an ailing knee's best friend.  I've developed a serious love/ hate relationship with my foam roller.  Even though my friend told me a few weeks ago I needed to buy one, I refused.  I can be cheap sometimes, and I thought the $20 price tag for a foam roller was too steep.  So while I kept my $20, I suffered through an entire month of knee pain.  (Looking back, I think I spent the twenty bucks on Advil anyhow.  I'm an idiot.)  I finally caved and bought the foam roller at Target.  I read about half an article about how to use it to rehabilitate an inflamed IT band and then got rolling- literally.  The first time I tried using it, I rolled the length of my good leg; the one with the non-injured knee.  I wanted to know how a healthy leg should feel when you are massaging your IT band with a foam roller.  While I wouldn't say it was an entirely enjoyable feeling, it fell somewhere in the hurt-so-good range.  The other leg, though?  Yeah, that was an entirely different story.  I started with the foam roller at my ankles and then moved it up the outside of my leg.  Everything was fine until I got to about three inches above my right knee.  That's when I screamed a bunch of R-rated phrases I'm not going to type here because I know my mom reads this.  (Hi, Mom!)  Thank goodness my roommate wasn't home, because, if he was?  He would probably think I have a serious case of Tourette's or something.  That was one of the single most painful experiences of my life.  I'm not exaggerating, either.  That sucked.  It did, however, help my knee.  I woke up the next day feeling a little less sore.  I (painfully) kept foam rolling and, not surprisingly, felt stronger and stronger each day.  I ran 14.3 miles on Sunday, foam rolled after it, and had no knee pain afterwards.  Boo yah!  (Side note: Thanks, Parth, for the tip.  Next time, I will listen to your suggestions.  Well, that's probably not true.  But I promise to not blow them off entirely.  Either way, I owe you a beer.)

2.  I CAN RUN 14 MILES!  Maybe you didn't notice that in the big paragraph above.  I know-- it's kind of hidden among all those other words.  It's not your fault.  Either way, let me repeat: I ran 14.3 miles on Sunday.  I finally feel like I am training for a marathon!  I knew going into this training that running half marathons was something I could achieve, mostly because I'd done it before.  While I'd still like to knock some time off my half marathon PR, running a half is essentially checked off my athletic bucket list.  I assumed one of the biggest hurdles in prepping for a marathon would be comfortably running more than thirteen miles.  I was totally right about that.  I was at a very annoying thirteen-mile plateau before my run on Saturday.  I was cognizant that I needed to run farther than that, but I just hadn't-- and thought I couldn't, really.  Fortunately, I can be kind of a dumbass on occasion.  Believe it or not, that actually helped me this past weekend.  I went on a Castle Island loop run Saturday afternoon.  I knew that I wanted to run somewhere between seven and thirteen miles, depending on how my knee was feeling.  At the ten mile mark, I had no pain and a lot of energy, so I decided to add a lap around UMass Boston to my run.   I checked my phone running app quickly and then kept running.  My plan was to run around UMass until the app told me I had run twelve miles.  Then, at that point, I would head home.  But, here's the problem: the app never told me I hit twelve miles.  (Ok, what I really mean is that I never restarted the app.  Again, I can be a total dumbass.)  When I finally realized my error, I angrily restarted my app and ran back home.  By the time I reached my front door, the app chirped through my headphones that I had finally reached twelve miles.  Thanks.  I consulted Google maps to see how far I had gone between stopping my app and starting it up again, and that distance was 2.3 miles.  You can do the math.  I ran 14.3 miles.  Like a boss.  An accidental boss, but whatever.

3.  Running is all head games.  I feel pretty damn good right about now.  I reached two major milestones this past week... and had a few quality, pain-free runs, too.  With all apologies to LL Cool J, don't call it a comeback.  (I mean, you can call my accomplishments a comeback if you'd like.  I won't complain.)  I think, more than anything, this week has taught me that training for a marathon is about fifty percent physical and fifty percent mental.  I recently questioned my ability to complete the training and the Marathon, partially because of what was happening with my knee.  Now, after only one good week, I am totally confident I can do this and do it well.  Does this make me a head case?  Probably.  Either way, I need to make sure I am following a training plan that will make me feel strong, accomplished and kind of like I do right now: ready to go... and a little bit like a rap song.

Distance Tuesday (11/12): 3.82 miles (with Sole Train youth running group)
Time Tuesday: 47 minutes (12'18" splits)
Distance Thursday (11/14):  3.05 miles (with Sole Train youth running group)
Time Thursday: 40 minutes (13'07" splits)
Distance Saturday (11/16): 14.3 miles  PR distance!!
Time Saturday: 2 hours, 8 minutes PR time!!  (9' splits)
Cumulative Distance Since Blog Started: 56.19 miles
Cumulative Time Since Blog Started: 9 hours, 8 minutes

Thanks, Dad

I ran my first ever road race with my grandfather when I was probably in fourth grade.  I don't remember much about it other than it was in Alplaus, New York and it was only one mile long.  At the time, my paternal grandfather was a runner.  In fact, my grandfather hit the pavement almost daily until his doctor told him his body couldn't take it anymore-- that's when he switched to long walks instead.  I used to think that was really cool: my grandpa was a runner.  I didn't know oother grandpas who did anything besides play bridge and visit the cardiologist.  (Actually, that's a lie: my mom's dad was- and still is- an avid tennis player.  My grandpas rock.)  Grandpa was an OG before I even knew what that was.

My dad was a runner, too.  I don't think we ever watched him do a road race, but I remember him going out for long runs on the weekend.  He used to have a collection of t-shirts from races he completed.  I have a vivid memory of a white, long-sleeved shirt with black lettering and a big, red heart on it.  Pretty sure that was from the Ellis Hospital Cardiac Classic 5k.  Also pretty sure my brother still wears it.

Since I wasn't a runner, I never talked about it with my dad or with my grandpa.  That one mile fun run I did with Grandpa was the only race I did until I completed my first 5k about two and a half years ago.  Looking back, I wish I stuck with running-- it would have been a really fun thing to do with Dad and Grandpa.

Even though my dad stopped running many years ago, I finally got the chance this weekend to share running with him.  The annual Stockade-a-thon was held on Sunday and, through a series of good luck and kind race organizers, I was able to score a last minute bib number for the event.  The Stockade-a-thon is a 15k run that tours my hometown of Schenectady, New York.  The race starts in Central Park, winds through the GE Plot, the historical Stockade and the formerly gang-occupied (but now really pretty!) Vale Cemetery before ending back at the park.  It also meanders through the streets where some of The Place Beyond the Pines was filmed.  (That's my only connection to the hotness that is Ryan Gosling.  I had to mention it.)

My dad is the real reason why I was able to get into this year's race.  Not only did he look up who I needed to call, but he also paid for my bib number... and took me out to brunch after I finished.  (Thanks, Dad!)  My dad ran the Stockade-a-thon twice before and his experience in the race was invaluable.  When it comes to most of my life, I am very Type A: I like a plan and an order.  With running?  Not so much.  I tend to just wing it.  I figure I will just run until I get to the finish line: no need to over think anything.  Fortunately, my dad convinced me that was a stupid approach.  The Stockade-a-thon is a total pain in the ass kind of race.  It's essentially all downhill for the first half.  Since it's a loop course, that means it's all uphill the second half.  Dad drove me around the course the night before the race and pointed out to me all the flats that would be deceiving and all the hills that would suck.  He also printed out the course map for me and put an X on the spots where he would would be to cheer me on.

The Stockade-a-thon was awesome.  Except for the total hot mess that was the start (and the first mile, really), the race was great.  The course was just as dad told me it would be: easy at first and then up, up, up.  I didn't want to expend too much energy on the flats, so I ran about nine minute splits for the first 5k.  My dad was at approximately the three mile mark, ready to give me a high five and a hug.  Seeing my dad at that point in the race totally energized me and reminded me why I run: to have fun!  At that point, I was running next to some guy who was literally hacking up his lung and shooting off snot rockets like he was a booger-filled NASA or something.  This dude was not enjoying himself.  In fact, it didn't look like many of the runners around me were having any fun at all.  I don't know how you should look one third of the way through a nine-mile run, but like death is not it.  Once I left my dad, I cranked the music on my headphones and rocked out.  Hard.  I tend to do a lot of air drumming if I am having a good run.  I can confidently say I air drummed most of the final six miles of the Stockade-a-thon.  I was having a full on dance party... with myself.  I was lip synching and throwing up diva hands while Beyonce, Britney and Katy Perry motivated me through the hills.  Go ahead and make fun of me, but my splits were lower than they were the first 5k.  I ran about 8:30 to 8:40 splits the final two thirds of the race.  My fastest mile was even the one with the biggest hill!  D-d-d-diva is a female version of a hustla.

I saw my dad again at the top of the Bradley Street hill and again at the finish line.  At the hill, he joked that I had too much energy to have just run up an incline like that.  Maybe I didn't push myself hard enough, but I think I was so amped because my dad was there.  Seeing my dad along the way and sharing this race with him was the best part of the Stockade-a-thon.  I know my dad is really proud of me, but I don't always get to see that because I live so far from him.  Running the Stockade-a-thon was one of the first times my dad was there to see me achieve something big-ish.  Not to be sappy or anything, but it was pretty special... and a whole lot of fun, too.

The next big thing I hope to accomplish is running the Boston Marathon.  When I called my dad to tell him I got into the race, his response was something like this: "That's great!  I will be there."  I know I will give a lot of high fives when I run the Marathon (I am kind of a high five junkie), but none will be as awesome as the one I will give my dad.

Dad and I after the Stockade-a-thon

Distance Sunday (11/10): 9.3 miles (Stockade-a-thon)
Time Sunday: 1 hour, 25 minutes
Cumulative Distance Since Blog Started: 35.02 miles
Cumulative Time Since Blog Started: 5 hours, 33 minutes

Back on track... I hope.

While I've been writing about running recently, I haven't actually been doing a whole lot of it these past few weeks.  I feel like a total fraud.  Allow me to explain.

My right knee has gone from not feeling fabulous to being the bane of my existence.  I was hoping a little knee pain was something I could ignore, but, as it turns out, it's not.  My typical remedy for sports-induced ailments is to ignore them.  Injuries are annoying setbacks and I just don't want to deal with them.  So I don't.  Believe it or not, this approach works sometimes.  (Ok, it rarely works.  Whatever.)  My plan was to take it easy on the running for about a week with the hopes my knee would feel fine after a few days of rest.  Well, that didn't exactly happen.  My knee actually felt worse after this break than it did before it.  It got to the point where I woke up in the middle of the night crying because my knee hurt so badly.  I was icing my knee each night before I went to bed.  I was even downing an embarrassing amount of Advil to run just two miles.  This is when I realized I had a problem.  (A problem with my knee.  It's not like I'm going to OD on Advil or anything.)

I had a similar issue with the same knee two years ago when I first started running.  I went to the doctor and she casually labeled my pain tendonitis.  I hate that word.  Tendonitis seems to be a catch-all diagnosis for joint pain that can only be cured with rest.  I also hate rest.  Anyone who knows me understands that I have more energy than a sugar-doped teenager.  I am terrible at resting.  But I am good at pushing myself physically, which is what I did to fix my aching knee the first time around.  Instead of sitting around waiting to feel better, I did squats and leg presses to try and strengthen the muscles around the joint.  That plan seemed to work.  My knee ended up feeling great and I was able to start training for a half marathon.  I've been taking the same approach for the past few days while trying to rehab my sore joint.  I've done hundreds of squats: regular squats, wide-leg squats and single-leg squats.  I've also tried to incorporate more balancing activities into my workouts because I read those really help strengthen your IT band.  I've even gone as far as teaching on one leg.  Yes, I stand in front of my class of middle school students, discussing topics such as conflict in literature, perched like a freaking flamingo.

But you know what?  I think it's working.  My knee is still sore, stiff and pretty annoying, but it's not bringing me to tears anymore.  I generally feel stronger and more stable.  I was able to run eight miles on Monday and I was even able to walk afterwards.  Trust me: that's progress.  I'm still icing at night and taking Advil before I run, but I really feel like I am on the road to recovery.

I have a lot of training to do over the next few months to be ready to run the Boston Marathon.  I was really excited about it at first, but this whole knee issue had me questioning things.  Am I strong enough to do this?  Will my body make it?  What if it's not tendonitis or an IT band issue?  Then what?  The past two weeks have really rattled my confidence with regards to running.  I've never been one to take it slowly or to follow rules when it comes to training: if there's a goal I want to achieve, I'll go out and do it.  Simple as that.  If anything, this injury has taught me I need to be smart about my training.  Maybe it's not the best idea to just run a ton of miles and hope for the best on race day.  I should probably have a plan.  I have yet to read a book or an article about training for a marathon, and I'm not sure I ever will.  But what I do know is that I am going to front-load my training with a lot of strength exercises (meaning: squats).  I may end up looking like this, but at least I'll make it to the finish line.

Data from this week:
Distance Monday (11/04): 8.05 miles (solo run)
Time Monday: 1 hour, 10 minutes (8.46 splits)
Distance Tuesday (11/05): 2.23 miles (with Sole Train youth running group)
Time Tuesday: 30 minutes
(Wednesday's workout was 45 minutes of interval training on the elliptical)
Cumulative Distance Since Blog Started: 25.72 miles
Cumulative Time Since Blog Started: 4 hours, 8 minutes

The only time I will talk about the Marathon bombings

(Warning: I am going to swear a lot in this post.  Sorry, Mom.)

David Ortiz did today what some people weren't able to do on April 15: he crossed the Boston Marathon finish line.  The Boston Red Sox won the World Series on Wednesday and, with that, earned a victory parade around our city.  When the rolling rally got near the finish line- mere feet from the site of the Marathon bombings- Papi got off his flatbed truck.  He then jogged across the finish line, got back on his ride and finished the parade.  Hood up.  Shades on.  Casual.  This is Papi we're talking about: this guy carries our city on his back like it's no big deal.  Like it's his job.  And at this point?  It kind of is.

Two assholes with names I can neither spell nor pronounce thought it was a good idea to ignite some bombs near the Marathon finish line.  So that's what they did.  On April 15, the Tsarnajfksdhkusdf brothers stashed two pipe bombs in their backpacks and headed to Boylston Street.  (Side note: I refuse to spend the time Googling how to spell their last name.  Fuck them.)  One bomb went off.  Then another.  There's a lot to say about what occurred on that day and on the days until the younger Tsarhdagfjkdsgfjkad brother was captured, but I don't need to write about it here.  We all know what happened.

What did Papi do?  Five long and confusing days after the Marathon, David Ortiz got up in front of the crowd at Fenway Park and gave one of the best speeches ever.  English may be his second language, but Papi is clearly fluent in badassery.  In some ways, the post-Marathon healing process began when the ever-casual Papi dropped the The Fuck Heard 'Round the Hub.  His words gave Boston a rally cry: this is our fucking city.  We needed that.

Sometimes, like today, life is serendipitous.  Boston was the victim of an act of terror and, six months later, the Red Sox won the World Series.  The team- for whom mediocrity would have been a success this season- won the World fucking Series.  Then (because it gets even better), the Sox placed the World Series championship trophy on the Marathon finish line.  I can't even type that last line without crying my eyes out.

Let's be honest: at this point, you cannot disassociate the Marathon bombings and the Red Sox's championship.  You just can't.  For better or worse, these two events are like the beginning and end of some big-budget, Michael Bay blockbuster movie.  But instead of having Robert Downey, Jr. as the lead action hero, Boston has David "Cooperstown" Ortiz.  Better casting, if you ask me.

In six short months, I'm going to (hopefully) do what Papi did today.  I'm going to cross the Marathon finish line, too.  I'm not running the Marathon to seek some sort of metaphorical redemption for my city in the wake of the Tsarvndklvchsdukf brothers' terror attacks.  That's not what I'm saying.  Quite frankly, I don't think my running 26 miles could do that, anyhow.  Until now, I didn't really know why I was running the Marathon; it's just something I thought I could do.  

Besides making me super emotional, this whole Marathon bombings/ Red Sox championship thing has given me a purpose for running-- something I desperately needed.  This is our fucking city.  I'm part of the "our" to which Papi was referring.  I'm a Red Sox fan.  A Celtics fan, too.  (Totally NOT a Patriots fan.)  I teach in the city's public schools.  I went to college here and I've lived here for the past ten years.  I'm a Bostonian.  This is my fucking city, too.  I've met some of the greatest people on the planet in this city.  I've experienced most of the best moments of my life here, as well as most of the worst ones.  In a lot of ways, this city has made me who I am and I'm proud of that person.  I'm not running the Boston Marathon because I want to be part of the inevitable Phoenix rising hoopla that will accompany the race, but because it's another moment for my city and I to share.  I love Boston.  This is my fucking city and I can't wait to experience it in a totally new way: with my running shoes.

Kids Are Funny-ish, Part I

Me:  Hey!  Guess what?  I am running the Boston Marathon!
Student: (puzzled) The whole thing?
Me:  I mean, that's the plan.


Run data from Thursday, 10/31
Distance Today: 2.01 miles (with Sole Train youth running group)
Time Today: 23 minutes (11.38 splits... painfully slow!)
Cumulative Distance Since Blog Started: 15.44 miles
Cumulative Time Since Blog Started: 2 hours, 28 minutes