Boylston Ten Miler

LSD.  That's 70's runners' talk for Long Slow Distance.

That was my objective, or one of them, anyway, when I headed up to Boylston last weekend to share Easter and my nephew's birthday with my brother and his family.   I had seen my brother the weekend before on my mom's birthday, and I had noticed his lean frame - he'd been running three times a week, he told me, proudly.   It's had a decidedly good effect on his midriff.  The push ups and pull ups have been a help too.  I told him then, that on my visit the following weekend, I needed to get in a 10 mile run.  No problem, he said, I'll map out a course for you.

So, after I arrived in Boylston on Friday night, with incense still in our clothes from the Good Friday service at All Saints Worcester, we sat down at the computer and he showed me the run he had designed for me on mapmyrun.com.  It was an easy loop around Boylston, it appeared, until he showed me the gradation on the map.  A little bit of hill there during the second half of the run.  But I like hills, have liked them since I started running cross country in college, and like running past people who don't like hills.  One of my best Boston Marathons was the race in 1993 in which I was passing people on what is known as Heartbreak Hill.  I'd run a very smart race that year, and actually felt strong on those hills.  I was proud of that race.

Saturday morning we headed out in the morning to do some shopping for Easter dinner, and Eric drove me on a good part of the run I was going to do later that afternoon.  It was a rolling run for most of the first five miles, with a nice big hill to reach mile 6.  The rest of the run he described, but we didn't drive, as I supposedly knew the terrain.   We did our errands, ate some lunch, and then I took a nap.  I'd done a short four miler (what I now know as a 4.6 miler, having mapped it on the mapmyrun website) the day before, and was a little bit tired.  But I did not want to put off this long run; it was going to be easier to have it over with, rather than wait another day to run it.  Sunday was going to be busy with Easter morning church service, and a big Easter dinner with fourteen people at the house, so the run was definitely going to happen on Saturday.

Eric was going to run part of the way with me, so we both put on shorts (I thought about wearing tights, but it was a borderline 54 degrees, and not that cold) and our running shoes and headed out the door just after 3.  I told my brother that it would be good for me to start slow and warm up with him - to be honest, though, he was doing a good steady pace as we got going, and it didn't feel that slow to start!  But I left him about a mile and a half into the run, and headed towards the rolling hills.

I left him on Route 70 and headed down Mill Road.  It was quite scenic, with a pond on the right of the road, and still blooming forsythia and daffodils along the way.  It was breezy though; I had decided to wear my running jacket and a baseball cap, and I was glad I did.  I'm not a runner that feels like she has to brave the cold!  Wearing warm clothes is a good thing.   I have painful memories of watching the young men and women of Columbia and the other Ivies at the Heptagonal Championships in late October last year - the day of the big snow in the Northeast - running through cold, freezing rain (the ladies) and then snow (the men) in their shorts and singlets.  One of the top Columbia men ended the race with hypothermia - I'm not sure what the coach was thinking when he let them go out and run 3 plus miles with those skimpy clothes.

But I digress.

I headed from Mill to Sewall Street, heading through miles 4 and 5.  I ran past the Worcester Rifle and Gun Club, and was serenaded with shots from the shooting range.  I was feeling pretty good.  Nothing was sore or hurting, like my 8 miler two weeks earlier.  On that run, twice around Central Park's inner loop, my glutes were sore a good part of the run, and other muscles complained too.  I didn't really want to repeat that!  But as I crossed the main road and headed up the hill to mile 6, everything was still feeling OK.

I was happy to have driven the first 6 miles earlier in the day, it made that first part of the run familiar, and somehow easy mentally.  It was the second half, the next four miles, that were a bit harder.  Somehow, when you don't know where you are, the distance always seems longer than it is.  But I was determined not to worry about it, and focused on my pace and my stride, carefully monitoring my legs as I ran up and down the rolling lane in the woods.  My core was particularly steady, I noted, the happy result of almost four years of Pilates.  I'm a big promoter of the practice, and think it has made me a better runner.  I run straighter, and more centered, with a strong set of abdominal muscles.

Approaching a crossroads, I paused briefly.  I wasn't sure whether to turn left, or keep going straight.  I didn't remember what Eric had said, or what the map looked like that we had reviewed the night before.  This is why I study maps countless times before I go running.  I have a very good sense of direction, but I also like to be certain, doubly certain, of where I am going.  When I am in an unfamiliar city, I will find a map and memorize names of streets and turns so that I won't get lost.  Not that it would be horrible to be lost, but I take great pride in knowing where I am, and it gives me a feeling of accomplishment.

I wasn't sure, so I went straight, past the country club and down another rolling hill.  (I was supposed to have taken the left.  I ended up adding a half mile to my run.)  This time, my calves were feeling the hill.  I've gone a good distance, I thought.  I certainly wasn't going for a strong pace at this point, my objective was to finish 10 miles, running.  I followed the road around for half a mile, and then came up to another crossroads.  At this point, I decided I was not on the mapped route, and needed to make some "on the run" decisions about direction.  I took a left at the crossroads; it felt like it was the direction I needed to be headed.  I climbed another rolling hill, and tried to tamper down the feeling that I was lost.  Not lost, I told myself; there weren't that many roads in this little town; I'd find my way back.

At the end of the road, I hit another road, and took a moment to stop and look around.  And then I saw the Route 70 sign, and knew where I was.  Big relief.  I ran down the hill, past the nature center where I've run in the past, and took the left at the T toward my brother's house.  As I was running up the last hill, my nephew drove by, on his way back from his tennis game, and waved.  It felt good to see him.

I was not going fast at all at this point, I just knew I had half a mile to go to reach Kendall Farm.  I ran to the top of the road - a steep hill leads to my brother's house - and walked for a minute.  Then as the house came into view, I saw my brother at the end of his driveway.  I started running down the hill, with my arms above my head.  Not the Boston Marathon, but the finish of my first 10 miler since 1993.  18 years is a long time, but my body remembered what to do.

26.2, here I come.

St. Brigid's 5K

This morning I celebrated my mom's birthday by running a 5K race in Amherst. To be more precise, Mom, Dad and I all marked the day with our participation in a race/walk to benefit the local Catholic church, St. Brigid's. Mom and I had seen the race advertisement in a walk through town last weekend, on the lawn of the church in downtown Amherst, and I thought it would be fun - my mom ran races with me back in the 80's in NYC and Boston, when I was just starting running - and my dad had run his first race in November, when he walked the 5K race in Rehoboth in which everyone in the family had participated. I put it on the list of things to do this weekend, and both mom and dad seemed interested, anyway.

When I arrived in Amherst on Friday night, however, my Dad complained that it would be snowing on Saturday morning, and he groused that he didn't want to be out in the snow. My mom had gotten race forms, however, so she and I filled them out, to be ready for the next day. Rain was definitely predicted, but we decided we would make up our minds the next morning.

Saturday morning broke with a cloudy sky, and chilly, but with no rain. My brother arrived just after 8 from Worcester to join us for a birthday breakfast with my mom, a festive occasion. (He doesn't pop over to see them that often.) We were going to leave for the 11 a.m. race at 10 - and it still wasn't raining as the hour approached 10, so my dad decided he was in with mom and me. Eric bid us goodbye, and we started off to the UMASS football field, where the race was to start from. As we were driving the 8 minutes to the field, I noticed snow flakes. My Dad's prediction had come true - snow! But the snow was just spitting (as we say, generally about rain, in New England) - it was not coming down hard, and it wasn't getting in the way of anything (my dad later went back home to get his gloves - he wasn't going to run with cold hands!).

We arrived just after 10 at the field, and registered - I was going to run the 5K and mom and dad would walk the 1.5 mile out and back - and then we had 45 minutes to wait. I generally like to be at a race about 45 minutes ahead of time - that gives me enough time to find the bathrooms, do a mile jog, stretch, go to the bathroom a few more times, and prepare mentally for the race.

It was snowing at that point, and I suggested that we all go back and sit in the car and keep warm. That's when Dad decided to go for his gloves, and I decided to do my jogging. Mom joined me in finding a bathroom, and then got on her phone with her granddaughter for a good chat.

So, as you might imagine, this race was meant to figure into my marathon training. It had not been a great training week. On Monday, I ran the full 6 mile loop in the Park (although I am running on the horsepath these days, so am not sure that the mileage is exactly 6 miles - seems a little more), and then did an elliptical workout on Wednesday in my gym - a full 40 minutes, which I haven't done in a while. I was going to do my hardcore Pilates class on Thursday night, but that morning, my niece called to invite me to see "Porgy and Bess" with her on Broadway, and I decided to forgo Pilates and spend the evening with my niece; she won't be in NYC after May, and it's always good to see a Broadway musical at a cheap price (she got last minute student price tickets)!

I awoke on Friday morning, expecting to do a run, but I was really tired (I had been out every night that week, and it was a stressful week at work), and very logy, and decided I would sleep in, and run the race on Saturday instead.

So I was at the track at UMASS, doing sprints in the intermittent and lightly falling rain/snow, and wondering how my legs would stand up for me.

It was a small local race, and certainly the weather figured into the 60 or so folks that showed up to run. I stood at the starting line with tall, thin guys in tank tops and shorts; I was in tights and wearing my trusty 25 year old LLBean running jacket over my long-sleeved Barnard t-shirt and wearing my PricewaterhouseCoopers baseball cap. Intimidated? Heaven's, no! But fun to hear the racing talk amongst the guys. I heard the Westfield Half Marathon mentioned a few times; it was to be run on Sunday morning, and I knew about it because I had originally thought it would be a good race to target for a long run. But as I got my training going, I realized it would take some time for me to get myself ready to run a half-marathon - currently, I am signed up for the Whately (MA) Half Marathon to be run on Mother's Day in May.

The race took off at 11 a.m. The rain/snow had stopped. The skies were grey, the wind was chilly. The families at the start cheered as we took off at the gun. The blinking blue lights of the police car at the intersection would be our first indication that we were headed for the open road.

I started off fast, with the guys, and then realized they were going to run a 15 minute 5K and I was going to finish at least 5 minutes behind them, and eased back. But I did find a pace that worked for me, and got my head thinking about how I was feeling and how and whether I could stretch the pace to pick it up.

Back when I was running cross country in college, my coach would tell us to go out fast the first mile (but not too fast), hang in there in mile 2, and then pick it up in mile 3 and sprint to the finish (the last tenth of a mile). I decided to follow that plan (more or less), and helpfully, there were mile markers on the road. The race, while small, was well run by the Sugarloaf Mountain Athletic Club - the road markings were good, and we had good police protection and guidance - and even a water stop! - along the route.

I was breathing pretty hard, but not too hard - this was my first race since November, after all, and I didn't need to kill myself. But I was running by myself pretty much the entire race, which makes it hard to push yourself. When I was in the last mile, we were running on the track around the UMASS Stadium, and it felt like a good time to start trying to move in on the few guys I could see in front of me. I started striding, as my coach would call it, running at full stride, sort of like a horse cantering (not quite galloping), and tried to close the gap between myself and the older man ahead of me. It worked, I did close the gap, but I didn't reach him - but the push felt good.

I finished the race in 21:12, 30 seconds slower than my November 5K time, but I felt pretty good. I was third in my age group (40-49), and again, the woman who won the race was over 40, so I was actually second in my age group in the awards. I can't wait to turn 50 (in six weeks!) and start competing against women my own age! The woman who won the 50-59 category ran the race in 26 minutes...

So, the plan is to get some long runs in during April (in Worcester, DC and NY), and come back to Western Massachusetts in May to do the Half Marathon. That will tell me how much work I have to do in the following six months. I have signed up to run the NYRR Mini Marathon in early June (and the JP Morgan Chase Corporate Challenge a week later). I'm looking forward to running with my race partner, Jean-Yves, in Paris in late June too. July will be a series of long runs, and August will bring a trip to Washington State, where I hope to have at least one good long run that is not in the heat!

That's the plan.

A pretty fast 5K under my belt. A good omen.