Buckskin Breakout 5k.

This weekend was my "graduation" from the Couch to 5k, even though I've already moved on to 10k training. I ran my first 5k in a year... and it was less about the time than it was about getting my life back and feeling like myself again.  Okay, that's a lie... I did set 3 goals for myself:

1. Don't be last.
2. Finish in under 40.
3. Run the entire thing.

The school district I work for sponsored the 5k and Josh agreed to go along with me. It was awesome to have such a huge amount of support there.  It was FREEZING Saturday morning and I haven't ran in the cold for weeks since I've been spoiled by warm-ish weather and have been hitting the treadmill whenever it's been too windy for my taste.  I wasn't quite prepared for a 9 a.m. run at 30 degrees.

As I took off, I realized that I quickly took the spot of the last person in the pack of runners. My pants kept falling down and my abdominals started cramping big time.  The entire time I was running, I kept thinking about this "hill" that everyone kept talking about.  I had decided not to preview the course, since I've noticed that my runs feel easier when I run somewhere unfamiliar because I'm more focused on my surroundings, rather than thinking about how much farther I have to go.  Shortly after the first mile, I started being passed by the runners at the head of the pack, something that is always super disheartening for me. I had to keep repeating to myself that these people have been running for years and are built to be fast -- that will just never be me and I have to be okay with it.

I kept trucking, saw a few of the people I was running with, and my abdominals started cramping even worse. I saw Josh coming downhill towards me and after a few cheers from him, I told myself to suck it up and push on.  I bonded with a few Amish dogs and turned around at the midpoint to see the "hill."  It wasn't a straight up, "I want to die" hill by any means, but it went on forEVER.  I told myself that I just wanted to run the entire thing, no matter how much I had to slow down.  I actually passed two people on the uphill which would have been satisfying enough for me even if I hadn't met any of my three goals.

As I crested the hill, I could see the middle school and new that from here on it was downhill and flat, so I forced myself to run as hard as I could.  As I rounded the finish line, I realized that I had, in fact, met all three of my goals.  I finished in 38:31, wasn't the last person in the chute, and ran the entire 3.1 miles -- the farthest I've run since last April.

It was such a gratifying experience for me.  After the 5k, we were actually helping out at a Zumbathon and I originally didn't have any intention of participating.  Before the Zumbathon even kicked off, I had abandoned my table and secured a good spot on the floor.  Two hours later, I hobbled out to the car sweaty, aching, but feeling more like myself than I have in an incredibly long time.

I'm so excited for everything that's on the horizon. :)

Halfway Point Update

With this morning's run, I'm just under halfway through Couch to 5K (for the 2nd time.. eep!). What better time for a recap?

Week One
Day 1:  Has gone MIA...
Day 2: 2.12 miles, 14:13/mi
Day 3: 2.14 miles, 14:02/mi

Week One was my easiest week, as far as getting myself out and getting back to the grind. I can easily do a minute at a time, especially when I force myself to think about the fact that a year and a half ago I was running 9 mile long runs..

Week Two
Day 1: 2.2 miles, 14:04/mi
Day 2: 2.05 miles, 15:05/mi
Day 3: 1.98 miles, 15:39/mi

Week Two was "Attack of the Flu."  I started with it on day 2, then forced myself to push through a run on day 3 to get the yuckies out after being on my butt for 2 1/2 days.

Cold weather ninja.

Week Three
Day 1: 1.93 miles, 14:28/mi
Day 2: 2.10 miles, 13:19/mi
Day 3: 2.08 miles, 13:29/mi

Week Three was a recovery week AND my first week trying to work out my running plan with two nights of grad school each week. The vast improvement between days 1 and 2 is definitely looking at getting over the flu and skipping to running my butt off to get my workout in before class.

Week Four
Day 1: 2.13 miles, 14:45/mi
Day 2: 2.19 miles, 14:21/mi
Day 3: 2.4 miles, 13:07/mi

Week Four totally proved a point to myself. I ran days 1 and 2 in my trail runners, which are much heavier than my Brooks.  I did day 2 on a trail that was covered with snow and ice and completely muddy.  Day 3 was my fastest and farthest run, which I'll chalk up to the fact that the first two runs of this week were rough, and my legs felt heavier from my sneakers.  This just means it'll be THAT much easier when the weather warms up and I'm not suffocating in cold air.

This week was also my first official weigh-in for my school's fitness challenge. I weighed-in last week at 202.6.  This week, I was 197.4. HOLLA! That's a 2.5% weight loss! That's inspiring and makes me want to work even harder.. I just have to keep up with the positive attitude.

How's everyone else doing with their goals?    

Miles to go before I sleep.

Dear self,

I know that you get frustrated with yourself when your week 4 workouts are slower and shorter than your previous weeks, especially considering you were fighting the flu during weeks 2 and 3.  But think about how proud you should be of the fact that you're dedicated enough this time around to run in below-freezing temperatures, mud, snow, and ice.  You've always been so great at excuses, and this would typically be a really convincing one. But you're out there!  You're plodding through the mud, slipping on the ice, calves and chest burning like someone lit a fire under them.  You're going to NAIL this come spring!

Love,
You

Honesty.

Let me tell you something... these last 8 months have been interesting.

My long-term sub job was up at the beginning of April.  I day-to-day substituted in the same district until June.  Day-to-day subs, I don't know how you do it.  The first week was horrible and it had nothing to do with the fact that I didn't know the kids, the rules, the subject, whatever.  The horrible thing was the anxiety the "day-to-day-ness" of it all.  I'd go to bed at night not knowing what time I needed to be up in the morning, or wondering if the job I accepted for the next day was the best one I could get, or worrying about whether it was a good idea to turn down a job.  My mind was in constant motion.  I sat and refreshed the jobs page, only to see a job pop up and sit and worry about whether I should take it, whether it would be the only thing available the next day, whether someone else would take it while I sat and worried about the possibilities.

Then I started the real job hunt.  My fourth year in a row.  You'd think it wouldn't be so bad by this point.  No, this year was worse.  Every job created a new stream of mental vomit... should I apply for this one? What if I'm not qualified?  What if I don't like it there?  Do I really want to drive that far every day?  Do I want to move back home?  What if I can't find something? What if this job ends the same way all of the others have?  Oi.

In the midst of this was my best friend's wedding, my final semester of grad school, a full-time summer job, Zumba classes, and the acquisition of a permanent job.

The anxiety and the worry snowballed.  I started grinding my teeth at night, adding headaches, neck pain, and a sore jaw to the mix.

Something had to go.

First it was the running.

Then the caring about what I ate.

Then the Zumba.

It was so much more comforting to sit on my couch than to stand in front of a room full of people waiting for me to lead a workout.  I was so preoccupied with my own mind that I couldn't even focus on choreography for a 3 minute song that I had done for months.

The preoccupied mind got worse.  I locked my keys in my trunk my first day of new teacher orientation.  A tow truck ride, 3 new keys, $250, and 2 1/2 hours later I made it.  I smashed my front passenger tire leaving the dentists office.  A new tire, rim, hubcap, and $400, I promised myself I'd start focusing. 

I finally decided to see someone about my issue and finally got a label -- generalized anxiety disorder.  Knowing that I wasn't just crazy made me feel automatically better.  We worked on ways to ease my worrying and obsessive thoughts.  The worrying took so much out of me that by the end of the day, I was completely drained and just wanted to crash.  I spent hours sitting on my couch playing mindless games on the computer, watching TV, pinning dreams to Pinterest.


This morning, I tried on a pair of pants that I bought at the end of the summer.  They didn't fit. I wanted to cry.

I weighed myself. 204.  I wanted to throw up.

I promised myself I would never see a number that started with a 2 the day I finally fell out of the 200s.  Today, I make that promise again with a renewed drive.

Today, I start getting my life back.

Change of perspective.

About a month ago, I spent a week by myself in Erie.  Sunday, I took myself to Presque Isle State Park, rented a big, yellow bike, and spent the afternoon cycling around the island.  My Droid had stopped working, so I wasn't able to log anything on LoseIt or track my ride with My Tracks.  I cycled for the sake of cycling.  For the enjoyment of no agenda, the wind in my hair, the smell of the lake, and the gorgeous view.

Then came my change of perspective.

After I had been cycling for over an hour and a half, I realized how much fun I'd been having, just for the sake of having fun.  I wasn't trying to beat a distance or improve a time.  I had gotten so burnt out from constantly beating myself up over not getting faster, going farther, losing more, eating less.  If I forgot to log, I felt like shit.  If I didn't run as far or as fast as I wanted, I felt like shit.  If I didn't see the number on the scale drop as low as I wanted, I felt like shit.  I was tired of feeling like shit, of beating myself up.

So, I made a decision.

I've given up the logging.  I haven't ran since June and I'm ready to get back to it, for the fun of it.  I want to enjoy working out again and run until I'm tired, not force myself to run because I don't want to feel like shit.  If I run 2 miles, great.  If I run 5 miles, even better.  The important thing is that I'm out there.  I'm moving.

Since my stress fracture, I have struggled to get my weight out of the 180s.  For whatever reason, I have maintained pretty steadily between 182-185.  I'm still a size 12.  My Zumba pants fit and are roomy.  I'm doing okay without the added pressure of more miles and more pounds.

I've been doing this for almost three years.  I know what to do and what not to do.  Maybe I will choose to get back to logging and pushing once thing calm down and I settle into the new school year, but for now.. I just want to live a normal life.

Here goes.

River Run 5K Recap.

Ugh.

That sums it up in one word.

I only ran once last week, trying to save my legs for a solid 5K Saturday morning.  I ate super healthy all week, stayed super hydrated even with the increasing heat, and felt really good overall.  Friday night I went to Zumba with my friend Nina and got a shin splint so bad I had to leave.  I was a little worried that this might come back to haunt me Saturday morning, so I got some pro tape on the way home and prepared to wrap my legs in the morning.

When I woke up Saturday, I felt fantastic, minus menstrual cramps and some serious back tightness. I stretched my legs out really well, ate a healthy breakfast, and swaped the coffee for some Vitamin Water to keep myself hydrated since it was super humid out.  I met up with my friend Laura and her boyfriend at the starting line to get my t-shirt and race bib.  My legs were feeling awesome.  I felt ready this time.

The race is an out-and-back that starts on a nice downhill and heads straight across the Susquehanna River between York and Lancaster counties, loops around, and heads back uphill for the last portion.  I sprinted downhill with Laura, falling behind as soon as we hit the flat stretch.  I was still feeling pretty strong, ready to beat my last 5K time.  As I was passing the 1 mile marker, the leaders were passing me going the other way.

Disheartening.

Seriously.  I felt like turning around and giving up. 

As I rounded the turn about halfway in, I gave up caring and wanted to walk, I was cramping and starting to feel sluggish.  I took a cup of water from the volunteers and tossed it on my face to cool myself off, but it only helped momentarily.  As I hit the 2 mile marker, the volunteer shouted out "23:50!"  I did some mental math, realizing that I could potentially beat my time from the last race.  Then reality hit and I realized that I didn't stand a chance since the last part is uphill and hills and I have a complicated relationship.  With a mile left, someone called out "25 (something)!" and my legs gave up.  I walked, forcing myself to keep pace to my music, and realizing that walking to the beat of my music was actually putting me farther ahead than running because my strides were wider.  I let myself walk about 1/5 of the last mile, forcing myself to run that last hill so no one would see me giving up. 

That damn finish line as I was walking back to my car
with my head hanging.

I took baby steps up the hill, sweat dripping down my face and blurring my vision.  I thought the clock said 33 minutes when it came into view and I started to run a little faster until I realized that it actually said 39.  I slowed my pace back down, accepting the fact that it couldn't get much worse.

Final time?  40:06.  419 out of 530. 

Almost 3 minutes worse than my slowest time.  You know, when I was 30 pounds heavier.

Grr.

But at least I got Rita's when I crossed the finish line...

It really was an easy course.  I think it was a combination of boredom with the out-and-back across a bridge, my period, and the humidity.  It just sucked the life right out of me.  The race was incredibly well organized and the volunteers were great. It makes me very nervous about my hopes of a 10K in July and a half-marathon in November, but I just think the situation wasn't ideal for me and, unfortunately, I haven't come to terms with the fact that conditions will never be perfect.

Just Make It to the Stop Sign

Ugh.  The weather has been beautiful these past few days.  Mornings have been the perfect temperature for sunrise runs and the afternoons have made me restless to get out and hit the pavement.  Thursday morning, I woke up with my alarm and jetted out the door to knock out as much distance as I could in the 20 minutes that I usually use to sit and eat breakfast while I check my e-mail and watch the news. 

Yesterday, I spent the whole day itching to get out of work and change into my running clothes, ready for a nice, long afternoon run.  I made sure to hydrate well so I wouldn't cramp, ate well, blah blah blah.



Okay, maybe not quite, but they
sure as hell felt this tight.

 Two blocks in, both calves tightened into tiny, little balls of muscle.  It felt like tennis balls were sitting on the backs of my legs.  I slowed down to a walk, hoping to shake it out and keep going.  I started running again on a slight downhill and my left calf tightened again.  I forced myself to just make it to the stop sign and then I'd walk the next uphill.  I could barely drag myself to the stop sign.

ARRRRRRGH.

When I tried to jog again, something just didn't feel right with my knees and my quads.  Every muscle in my legs felt tight.  My left knee felt funny during Body Combat on Monday, almost like I could feel it grinding, and they've both been bothering me walking up steps and hills.  Instead of pushing the issue, I decided to just walk the rest of the run I had planned, and actually finished the walk just a little over the time I had imagined running it would've taken me.  I forced myself to move a little faster than usual, rather than completely giving up and being pissed off for 4 miles.

I hate days like that.

I hate that feeling of being so motivated, so excited to do something, and then you can't.  And it's not a conscious decision to be lazy and give up, it's your body telling you no.  If I've learned anything over the past year with my stress fracture, it's to listen to your damn body.  One day without a run will not kill me.  One day with a run with an injury will.  I'm not willing to be sidelined again. 

Today, I'm heading out for a hike and hopefully a nice, slow one will stretch out whatever is bothering me.  Tomorrow will be a rest day, and then hopefully I'll be ready for another full week of Zumba and running, especially with the River Run 5k on Saturday.