The happy dog, and The clicky hip.

I saw a dog this morning, and I swear it was the happiest dog I’ve ever seen. That dog was downright ecstatic. I think it might have been an Irish Wolfhound. But what do I know about dogs, anyway?

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Some years back, mum liked to buy these awesome Christmas novelty toys at that time of the year, you know, like the angel that you turn on and it plays some naff instrumental Christmas carol on a glowing accordion. Or a reindeer that stands on one leg and vibrates, so when you set it down it has a happy little Christmas seizure, sort of lazily spinning around in a circle. Playing a carol, probably. My favourite was this Santa, all dressed up in his fluffy red suit, who says something - probably on the ho-ho-ho train of thought - and ponderously declares that it’s time to sing a Christmas song. I can’t remember what song it was he was singing, but I’m fairly sure it was ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’. He would accompany his singing with a little hip action, a few booty shakes and the like, punctuating every beat in the song with some hot Santa moves (or at least that seemed to be the manufacturer’s intention). Now, this is a very random anecdote, I know, but it is ever so slightly relevant. You see, our little Santa (who stood at almost a foot tall, to my recollection) had a teeny tiny mechanical fault in the hip mechanism, so whenever he moved his hips, they clicked. They clicked LOUD. At the other side of the house, even if you couldn’t hear the tinny little Christmas carol, you knew the Santa had been turned on simply due to the constant ‘click, click, CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK, pause, click, click, click, pause, click’ and so on, for all eternity.

The relevance is here: After my run this morning, when I was walking the extra two kilometres home, my hip was clicking just like the clicky hipped Santa. On the left hand side. So loud I could hear it over the music.

I think I need to figure out a way to turn out my legs more when I run, because my knees shouldn’t be facing so far inward. My butt hurts like a son of a bitch after today’s run, and even if my hips aren’t clicking any more, I don’t want to do any damage over the next month or so.

So yay me, I ran 30 km this morning. Again. It was harder mentally than it was physically, and I was so relieved when it was over. Three and a half hours is a long, long time to be running.

I’m starting to think maybe I’ll get to 32, do a few training runs at that length, and then try to forge ahead for the 42 from there. Surely you wouldn’t need to run much further than 32 km in training for a marathon?

Blog Fail

As usual, it’s the eventful times that I actually forget to write about.

Thursday before last, my training hit a literal speed-bump. I tripped on a protruding chunk of footpath on the way up Dryandra street as I ran home, and fell pretty hard. My ankle got a little twisted, my left knee got really bruised and my right knee got entirely messed up. Now, I’m just waiting for the hole in my leg to heal, but I have gotten back to the running already.

I wasn’t able to do a long run last weekend. No, scratch that. I may have been able, but I wasn’t willing. I took the weekend off.

So, long story short, I haven’t run until Wednesday. I ran home that night, a little slow perhaps, and tonight I did one better. My boss was sponsoring one of the awards for the Camp Quality Verti-cool Challenge, so I decided to represent the branch in the Ultimate Challenge. The standard challenge was to run up Telstra Tower, about four hundred steps, or thereabouts. The ultimate challenge was to run from the base of Black Mountain to the top of the tower. On paper, it doesn’t look too hard. About 2.5k worth of running, plus tower. In reality, it is hard. In reality, it is the sort of thing that makes me question whether I should be dreaming of a marathon at all, if I can’t even cope with a little hill.

So anyways, I’m lacking in verbosity right now. I’m hoping to run 30+ tomorrow morning, so I’d better set my alarm for 4:30 or 5:00 am again.

Closely followed by the New Shoe Blues

At the not-quite-morning hour of 4:30 this morning, I sat down at the computer and began typing. “This morning,” I started, with some trepidation, “I am going to run 29 kilometres in brand new shoes.”

It wasn’t the impulse of a moment. I had the notion last night, and deep down I knew it wasn’t going to be the best idea. These shoes have only clocked up 6 km, as I couldn’t help but take them for a spin when they arrived on Thursday. My current shoes are Nike Lunarglide+ just like the new ones, but the previous generation, so I can’t go assuming they’re going to behave in the same way. From the short run home, I know the new shoes are quite different. The flywire (I think that’s what it’s called) seems to hold my foot more upright, and the footstrike feels quite different. They’re just as light, and maybe even faster. But for a while, they’re going to hurt.

So, yeah. Stupid me. I ran in the new shoes.

In order to see if I could improve my endurance, I decided to split this morning’s run up into 5km chunks, following each with a one to three minute walking break. I thought I’d maybe lose ten minutes in the long run, but in the end the kilometres I walked during were the same overall speed as the rest of the run. And, I managed 30 kms. So, yay me.

I felt blisters on the backs of my heels at about the 10 km mark, but the discomfort died down. It was still there, and I knew I had stuffed up with the new shoes, but I ran through it. When I took my socks off, I expected the backs of my heels to be red raw. They were red, and they still sting, but there weren’t any blisters. The blisters were further up on my feet. From the tip of my big toe, down to the ball of the foot, on both feet. And the top half of the second toe as well. Biggest blisters I’ve seen in ages. They calmed down during the day, and I was able to walk around, so not too bad.

I guess it wasn’t entirely idiotic to run in the new shoes, but the other day I noticed great cracks in the foam at the back of my old shoes, and I think they’re coming to the end of their usable life fairly soon. I so wanted to run the marathon in my new shoes. I might still, if I can stomach doing the rest of my long runs in them.

New shoes!

The shoes are Nike Lunarglide+ 2, and are most definitely the prettiest running shoes I’ve ever worn.

Another belated update

I really have to stop putting off posting in this blog. I had a perfect entry all mapped out in my head as soon as I came back from my run yesterday, but I just didn’t do it. I’ve found that my brain short circuits after a long run, and I can’t think, construct a sentence or do anything mentally challenging for the rest of the day. That might be an excuse. I’m not sure.

I was hoping to get to 30km yesterday. I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to do it. Five extra kilometres is a lot, when I couldn’t even summon the energy to walk after 25km just a few weeks ago. I was even more temporally aware than usual. Three hours is a long time, and boredom started to pop up underneath my discomfort as soon as I got into my third lap around the lake. I was hoping to complete a fourth lap, but I hadn’t gotten far past my first water stop (which is only three hundred metres or so into the circuit) before my body decided it had enough, and I was forced to sit down for a minute or two.

Overall, I managed 27 kilometres. Very slow kilometres. When I got home I may have been a little emotional. I was upset that I couldn’t make it to 30km, and all the worrying I’d been doing the night before came back and jumped up and down in front of my face.

I only have seven more long runs before the marathon. I might have time, but I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to plan, and this is the best I managed to come up with:

12/02 - 29km
19/02 - 31km
26/02 - 33km
05/03 - 25km
12/03 - 35km
20/03 - 37km
26/03 - 39km
02/04 - Taper

I might not need to do the 39km run, but I would like to get as close as possible to the 42 before race day. I had to have a smaller week in there, because the constant increases are probably going to be hell.

I’m having two running-related problems at the moment. The first is that I’m running quite slowly at the moment. Incredibly slowly, compared to the past. Some of my kilometres are at an 8:00 minute/km pace, and that’s a bit of a worry. I don’t know if the hot weather is causing my decrease in speed, or just the increase in distance.

The second problem I’m having is nutritional. Yesterday’s run burned about 11,000 kilojoules, and after I add my basal metabolic rate, I would have needed to consume at least 16,000 kilojoules yesterday to keep up with my diet (which expects me to lose half a kilo a week, to make up for the excesses of my holidays). I doubt I ate more than 8000 or 9000 kilojoules yesterday, and I was really trying. I don’t know if this will affect my training in the coming week. I’m hoping it won’t. I weighed myself this morning and I seem to have dropped three kilos this week, which is a bit more than I expected.

Okay. I’m going to stop rambling now.

Ugh

This is my worried face.

: /

I may have been overestimating how much time I have before the marathon. I think I only have eight usable Saturdays before I have to taper off for the race, and my longest run to date is 25 kilometres.

This is when the doubt creeps in.

I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I’m planning a 5am start tomorrow morning, if I can drag myself out of bed.

That’s a big ‘if’.

Back to the Grind

Back at work today after a relaxing, if not particularly productive fortnight. I was lazy, gluttonous and socially irresponsible in turns. I ate, drank, and smoked a great deal more than I should have done. Five of the seven days I was in the Gold Coast, I ran on the treadmill for half an hour. I don’t consider that this completely cancels out my wrongdoings, but it helps. I did gain several kilograms during the holiday. Perhaps, this was several less than I would have otherwise gained.

Yesterday I intended to run 30 kilometres just for the hell of it, but turned back when it seemed my knees wouldn’t take any more and the 8:30am heat got too oppressive. The temperature went to 37 yesterday, so it was pretty hot. Oh well. Twenty one is good enough for a weekday. I’ll run home two days, and count this week as a win. Saturday should be cooler, and may be raining in some form or another, so I’ll try to break 30 then.

Ten weeks until the marathon! Excited! Scared!

An Open Letter

Dear Cyclist (not any one cyclist, but an amalgam of almost every cyclist I encounter),

To begin with, I would like to compliment you on your outfit. Not many people have the courage to wear so many colours at once, let alone in such a tight-fitting, body-hugging manner.

But, I digress.

I’m not quite sure what it was you yelled at me as you passed me by on the bike path this morning. You’ll forgive me if I didn’t respond, but as you are probably aware, there were several factors that prevented me hearing what was no doubt an important communication. Firstly, you were cycling past me at speed. Secondly, I was running in the other direction, into the wind. Thirdly, and probably most shamefully, I was also wearing headphones.

Were you saying good morning? Were you telling me to watch the road? If I was going up a hill, chances are that I was looking down at the path rather than straight ahead. It’s a posture issue, and I’m working on it, but you know how it is when you’re in the zone. You may have been telling me to turn my music down, and that would probably have been a fair thing to say. I sometimes lose track of how loud my headphones are. As most of my morning run entertainment tends to consist of the Nerdist podcast (which can contain some coarse language amongst the good clean fun) and SModcast (which can sometimes contain some clean language amongst the profanity) I will admit that I probably shouldn’t be listening at such a volume in a public place. But seriously, I’m not listening to it at full volume on a ghetto blaster at your six-year-old daughter’s birthday party, I’m running around a lake, mostly completely alone apart from the birds and the occasional joker in a clown suit.

In case you weren’t aware, I’m talking about you here.

Let me just tell you one thing: I AM SELFISH. Yes, I have the audacity to wear headphones when I go on a three hour run. I have the attention span of a gnat, and god forbid I should be left alone in my own company for such a period of time without distractions. I’m too selfish to take my headphones off, however I’m not an idiot. If you ding your little bell, I will hear you, and I will shuffle even further over to the left on the path (although I always run as far over on the left as I can in any case, unless my legs have gone all weird or I’m sleep-running and don’t notice where my legs have gone) and then you can cycle past me. I won’t turn my head to see if there’s more than one of you, or to see if you’re pulling one of those ridiculously huge baby sidecar things behind your bike. If you don’t fit on one lane, you should consider whether you really should be on a public bike path to begin with. If you ding your bell at me more than once in the vain hope that I’ll run off the path onto the grass so you and your bff can cycle side by side on your stupid pink racing bikes, you’re going to be disappointed. Do you know why they call it a shared path?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

I am selfish when I run, because it’s my time. I shouldn’t be bothering you. I’m in my space, and you’re in your space. You may think I’m doing a terrible thing by wearing my headphones and blasting my reggaeton at top volume when I run, but if you’re so careful and safety-concerned and empathic toward all mankind, why do you feel the need to swear at me when you pass me by? Is that even necessary? We’re in close proximity for less than five seconds. Surely I can’t be causing you that much inconvenience if it’s such a short encounter.

I really don’t have any idea what it was you yelled at me, faceless cyclist. It could have been:

“Fuck you.”

“Looking good! Keep going!”

“Anika! Remember me?”

“Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Turn that music down.”

“Good morning.”

Or it could have been a million other things.

But, you know what? I don’t really care all that much what you think, cyclist. Because I ran 21 kilometres this morning. It may not be much, but it’s what I’ve got, and I’m going to be happy for myself, even if you aren’t.

Yours sincerely,

Frankenberger.

Holidays. Finally.

I had intended to write up something about my last big run (not this last Saturday but the Saturday before), but I’ve been feeling a bit brain-melty lately and never got my act together. So here it is now. I got up late again. It’s funny how I have started to consider a start later than 6am to be ‘late’, but in the summer heat, it is late. With a long run of three hours, it’s incredibly late by the time I get back. And hot. I decided to do three laps of Lake Ginninderra, and although I was hoping to make 24 km, I managed 25. So I’m a little behind on my marathon training, but not incredibly. The task is still achievable, I hope.

Last Friday I was in Sydney for my Zumba Basics 1 Instructor training with Tanya Beardsley (who is awesome, by the way), and the Zumbathon on Friday night. So all day, from 9am to... Not sure. 10:30? at night, I wasn’t exactly dancing non-stop, but it was a high-energy day. On Saturday morning, I went to a Zumba masterclass. Then I caught the bus home. Everything hurt. Every muscle. I’m feeling a bit better now but I still feel twinges from some of the lesser-used muscles. On the inside of my knees, in my triceps, my shoulders, there’s still tightness. There’s a warning soreness in my shins that tells me I’d better get some more supportive Zumba shoes or face the disappointment of shin splints again. Most of all, my obliques are sore. But I don’t mind about that. I don’t get much in the way of abdominal workouts these days.

I did go for a run this morning. Not a long one, just a slow 13 k. At about 8 or 9 kilometres I started to feel like the light was just a little too bright, and my vision got swimmy. By 10 kilometres, I felt like I was wearing blinkers. I knew I had a migraine coming on, but as I don’t tend to bring painkillers on a run with me, there was not a lot I could do about it. I don’t remember the last time I got a migraine during a run. It had to have been a long time ago.

At this point, I’m planning to do my long run on Wednesday. We’re heading to the Gold Coast on Saturday and we’re not coming back until the following Saturday, so I won’t have a chance to run for a while. This might cause some delays with my marathon training, but I’m not worried, yet.

Year? New. Happy?

Distance: About 17.5 km

Time: About 2 hours, 11 minutes.

I concocted a hare-brained scheme to run to my mum’s place in Wanniassa this morning. Alas, the universe was conspiring against me.

The intention was to wake up at 6am and get on the road by 6:30. As we only went to bed last night at 1am, being that it was New Year’s Eve and all, and I can’t hear alarms going off with my earplugs in, and Simon slept through the alarm, it was 7am before I got myself out the door. Within half an hour, I realised that I was fighting a losing battle. The temperature was soaring. My legs felt like lead, and my knees weren’t all that happy after I rode my ridiculous little foldable bike home from work yesterday. I decided to be cautious, so I took a gel along to keep me fuelled, and some water, and I took short (and by short, I mean about the length of time you’d take to walk through a drink station in a race) walking breaks every five kilometres.

I wasn’t too sure on the route, but it turned out to be very straightforward and involved hardly any running in the on-road cycle lane. I made it through about twelve or thirteen kilometres before I started getting an odd pain in my back, so I took more frequent breaks. Every kilometre or so, I had to stop and walk for a bit. My pace slackened. I called mum to tell her I would probably be later than expected. Then, at 17 and a half kilometres, I threw in the towel. I managed to run all the way to Woden, but it was 30 degrees out there, and I didn’t really want to damage myself just to say I did it. Mum gave me a lift back to her place, and some breakfast.

Am I disappointed? Maybe, but I know 17k isn’t exactly a short distance. My last long run was on Monday, so I had less than a week to recover. I’ve never been good at running in the heat. I should have started out earlier. Blah, blah, etc.

Now my primary concern is the Marathon in April. I have maybe twelve usable training weeks. Even if I manage somehow to increase my distance by 2k a week, starting with 24k next week, I don’t think I’ll have time. Chances are, I’ll stuff up at least a couple more runs along the way as well. I’ve done some reading on Coolrunning, and it seems you don’t necessarily need to get to 42k in training, but I’m sure I’d feel better if I managed it. Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to see what happens.