Finger Lakes 50k - Weeks 1,2,3

January 26, 2018

I promised training recaps. I'm already 5 days into Week 4 so I suppose I need to get on it. As I had mentioned in my last post, I was pretty intimidated by the first two weeks of work Nora gave me. It was a combination of "oh shit I did nothing in December," the fact that I wasn't logging mileage like that during my peak summer/fall months last year, and the doubt that my body could hold up. That boils down to being too lazy in my off month, being afraid of something new, and not believing in my own ability. Just because I have not done something before does not mean that I am not capable of doing it. Suck on that, inner critic.

Week 1 went by quickly, no specific workouts or paces to hit, just easy miles. The run that stood out for me was the 8 miles on Saturday with Rose on the ATT. Despite it being a brisk 8 degrees, she showed up and let me stare at her ass for a while. This was my first time wearing a hydration pack in such cold temps so it did not occur to me that the hose would freeze. D'oh. Choking down a gel without water is not something I was interested in doing, so we stopped to work the problem. I decided to take off my outermost layer, put the pack on, and then zip that outer layer back on over it. Not the most attractive look but it solved my problem quickly. Hooray, water! No matter how long you've been in this sport, there will always be something new to learn. Like the temperature at which water freezes...
Week 1 summary:
Miles scheduled: 27
Miles ran: 24 (I opted for a 45 minute easy spin in lieu of 3 recovery miles on Sunday)
Time on my feet: 4:11:37 (does not include time spent on my bike)

Week 2. This one was a challenge. I was travelling most of the week, both for work and to see family. From NC to DC back to NC and on to NY and back to NC in 6 days. Tired doesn't begin to describe it. I got the first 2 runs done in DC (oh hey, stoplights every 10 feet), one at home in NC after my flight home that evening, and another in NY on a 2 mile stretch of rail trail. Being flexible was the name of the game, as was being prepared as possible. If I have a run scheduled, its happening. So I packed and managed my time accordingly. Unfortunately, the airlines were not nearly as accommodating. Long horrid travel story on Saturday meant that I arrived at my parents in NY at 7:30 pm rather than 12 noon. The rest of the day was spent in the Philly airport (fuck you so much). That bumped the 9 mile long run to Sunday and the recovery miles to the bin. I got the long run done but I hated missing mileage and jacking up my recovery level for the week ahead. Proud of myself for getting done everything I could given the circumstances, despite the level of fatigue I carried into week 3.
Week 2 summary:
Miles scheduled: 27
Miles ran: 24
Time on my feet: 4:37:12 (too bad traversing every damn terminal of the Philly airport 100 times doesn't count)

never too old to make snow angels with your mom

Week 3. This week hurt. I was feeling a lot of fatigue from last week's travels and most of my runs reflected that. My first workout with pace goals (what I would have consider really easy) were a struggle. Going outside to do a few recovery miles mid-snowstorm was ill advised, 6 inches of snow on unplowed paths and roads made for a lot of work. It all came to a head on Thursday when said storm forced me to the treadmill for a 7 mile workout w 5 miles at a set pace. I was pausing and stretching by the half mile, and every few minutes after that. I sent a few SOS texts to Nora, and then Rose. Everything was tight and sore and I was fed up that my body wouldn't shut the fuck up and do what it was told. I think it was hoping I would do the same thing. After crying for a few minutes, I restarted the treadmill and tried to just gut it out. Nope. Called it at 5.5 miles. It is so early in this training cycle, I do not need to be forcing workouts when I'm in pain. I needed to be talked off the ledge a little bit, and listen to my body instead of forcing it to adhere to some numbers on a spreadsheet. Why I need this reminder at least 5 times a training cycle, EVERY training cycle, is beyond me.
Week 3 summary:
Miles scheduled: 28
Miles ran: 27.5 (so close to plan!)
Time on my feet: 5:22:01

The first three weeks have been challenging, but overall solid, and I'm pleased with how training is going so far. Only 5 more months to go until race day. Dear Lord, that is a long time from now...

2018: Challenge Accepted

January 20, 2018

I drafted this post with pen and paper (old school, ya'll) on one of my many recent flights, and you'll notice that it appears on the training side of this site. Miracle. I've been running regularly and have a post in draft recapping 2017's NC racing season, but my heart and mind have been elsewhere with my writing for quite some time. I'm hoping that my enthusiasm for writing this post means that I might be coming out of the fog a bit.

So, 2018 training. I've been pretty vocal, since 2012, about wanting to run an ultra. A bout of runner burnout after my second marathon in 2013 pushed that back a year. Next was a string of injuries leading into half-hearted training followed by another injury, on repeat. I did not want to be the person who wants something that requires hard work, talks about it (a lot), but never puts her money where her mouth is. I had a decent (read: uninjured) training cycle in 2017 and it gave me the "proof" I needed to finally believe that an ultra was possible. I know a little bit about what I need to do to get ready but for the rest, I've got a coach.

If you are curious as to why I like having a coach, ask away, as that could be a post on its own. The short version: I'm pumped to have Nora Bird (owner of Team Bird Training, Oiselle Volee member, and rockstar from Oiselle's "Birdstrike" Speed Project team) make all the important training decisions and get my ass to the start line in fighting shape. So do I actually have a race in mind? Yes. Registration opened at 10 am on January 1 for the Finger Lakes 50s and I threw my money at the 50k.

In picking this race I broke a few of my own rules for racing a distance for the first time (being able to sleep in my own bed, training on/near the course, minimizing stress related to travel costs and logistics, etc.). My logic: it is within an hour of my parents' house in NY and I am somewhat familiar with the area. I think having my family there to support me will be a huge plus. The trail is largely single track, of which there is plenty near me to train on. The total elevation gain is somewhere around 2584 feet over two loops and I am confident that my area trails can prep me for that as well. As far as the fun factor goes, the Finger Lakes have some great wineries that will help me not feel my legs for a while post-race. Also, there will be cows. Seriously. Part of the race goes through cow pastures and there are explicit instructions in ALL THE CAPS about making sure to close the gates so the cows don't escape. I think I might need to add a runwiththecows hashtag to my IG posts.

As I write this I am 6 days into week 3. I do not plan to share every run listed on my schedule, as Nora put time and effort into this plan specifically for me and I don't want to a) give away her work for free and b) give you the impression that this plan is a blanket 50k plan anyone could use. I will give you a quick summary of each week and likely feature one workout that either rocked, sucked, or kicked my ass, followed by some quick numbers. I will not be sharing specific pace and time information because it is only relevant to me, because I am sensitive about how "fast" I am not, and because I am not interested in feeding into anyone's comparison trap.

With all that out of the way, let's get started. Nora gave me two weeks of training up front and I was immediately intimidated. I haven't done this kind of volume in several years and certainly not right out of the gate in a new training cycle. How would my body handle it? Rather than spiral down that rabbit hole and accept something that hasn't even happened yet as fact, I decided to take a deep breath. Trust that Nora shows her shit. Start believing that I am capable of more than I give my body credit for. Be 100% honest with my workout reports. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Basically all the logical advice I've ignored in favor of the familiar safety of anxiety, self-doubt, and a record of race results based on betting on anyone but myself from day 1.

I will also communicate conflicts ahead of time to make things work, rather than making excuses later for why a workout was not done. Yes, I want a coach to hold me accountable but I want to be 100% accountable to myself first and foremost. For better or worse. *cough* hungover treadmill workout *cough* I want to own my choices and the ensuing consequences. I do not want to get to the start line in June thinking about what I didn't do, how I made choices that didn't serve me. For as much as it is under my control, I will own this training cycle. I may bitch and moan the whole way (right, Lauren and Rose?) but I will also get the work done. I am hoping to bitch a little less, I find myself doing it before workouts that scare me. Anyone else find that to be the case? The complaining takes the attention away from the fear. It also primes the pump to report a bad workout result. That also does not serve me well, so I will try to acknowledge the fear instead. It is only running, after all.

I was going to include the recap for weeks 1 and 2 here, but this is long enough as is. You have better things to do with your Saturday afternoon and so do I. You are welcome to follow along in more real time on Instagram @CatLadyRunner, most common hashtags likely to include #FingerLakes50s and #TeamBirdTraining. STINSON OUT!

Where did an entire month go?

July 10, 2017

It has been a month since I packed up life as it was in Virginia and headed south to North Carolina. I'm not an official resident yet (ugh, the DMV) but will be soon. I'm still not completely unpacked (shocking, I know) but the essentials are there.

I worked from home the first week, which gave me time to supervise the unpackers (my parents stayed for the first few days) and make sure the cats didn't kill each other. Yes, cats. Plural. Because the week before a complete upheaval of your life is the perfect time to adopt an 8 week old kitten. I'm such a sucker. Anyhoo...I went into my new office on the second week for 3 days.

My employer has been incredibly supportive of me in the months since Mark died, going so far as to let me keep my job, move out of state, and show up to a branch office a few times a week to maintain my questionable socialization skills. I am truly lucky. I'm keeping the same hours that I had in Virginia and the same WFH/in office days. Just, you know, in another state. NBD.

So, first impressions of NC. Humid as fuck. Hot too. Though neither surprise me. Virginia had similar weather and I anticipated that NC would up the ante. It has. I'm not at all acclimated to it but I'm not sure anyone ever does. You just build up a tolerance of sorts, similar to pain. Other than that, NC is much greener. I attribute 90% of that to the fact that they aren't plowing under every living thing to build ALL THE GAWDY HOUSING so ALL THE PEOPLE can live here.

Traffic. I'm sorry, what is traffic? I'm sure for people who have lived here much longer that the main highways can be considered congested at times. To me, it is wide open spaces. My commute into the office is 20 miles. You know how long that takes me? 23 minutes. 23 MINUTES. Let me throw those figures into the NC to VA traffic clusterfuck configurator for some perspective. I lived 12 miles away from my office in VA and most days it took 30 minutes. I was 20 miles from the DC line. Try to drive that any time between 6 am and 9 pm? At least an hour's drive. So, yeah. NC wins the traffic lottery.

I've run quite a bit, in spite of the weather. Partly to see my friends, partly to find some new happy places, mostly for therapy. All good things. I like the change of scenery, but I am a little bummed with most of sidewalks being concrete. I didn't realize how much pavement I was running on in VA until now. Ouch. For me, I can feel the difference in my legs and have been running on the edge of road when safely possible. I've checked out two different running groups so far (#introvertouting) and enjoyed both. I do not like trying new things alone, so I'm proud of myself for stepping outside my comfort zone.

There have been plenty of difficult moments, to be sure, but this isn't the post for those. If you haven't noticed yet I've added a new section to the blog on grieving. There has been a lot of overlap between my running and my grief, but each deserves its own space. I also want to give anyone reading the opportunity to choose what they want to hear about. I'm not interested in shoving either part of my life down anyone's throat. So...yeah. Here we are. Alive in NC.

The best offense is a good defense

March 28, 2017

This post isn't going to talk about running but I hope you'll stick around anyways. I've heard and been asked all kinds of things since Mark died. The two most common are:
"How can you (insert task here)?" And then follow it up with:
"If I were you I would be (insert commonly assumed coping mechanism)."

First, there is no right way to grieve. There is no calendar. There are no milestones to meet or boxes to check off. Don't even get me started on the stages. I honestly don't care about stages or phases or cycles. They don't matter to the grieving person but they do seem to provide a straw for family and friends to grasp at.

People will say that they can't imagine how hard it must be, or what they would do if it happened to them. And they are correct. But that does not seem to stop people from suggesting/telling/expecting/assuming how you are feeling, how "healed" you should be, and when you should be "over it." With that in mind, I think it is time to let you in on something: my experience living with mental illness.

I never planned to talk about on this blog. Why have I chosen not to talk about it until now? Because I'm not obligated to share that with anyone I don't want to. Because I worry about how such disclosures will impact my current and future employment. Because I don't want to embarass my family. Because the stigma around mental illness is real and I am in no place to pick up that flag and fight yet. I have lived with depression and anxiety since I was a teenager. Over the course of the past twenty years (oh Lord, has it been that long?), I've learned quite a bit about therapy, psychopharmacology, coping skills (good and bad), and basic human survival.

Ok, that's all well and good Pam but what does this have to do with grief? I'm getting there. I never thought I'd get to a place in life where I could say that I appreciate having a mental illness (notice I did not said that I was glad I have it). Surprisingly to me, my experience with depression and anxiety has prepared me for enduring grief. This is not to say that grieving has been a cake walk. Far from it. However, the darkest hours of my mental illness helped me differentiate between healthy and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I learned to know when it was bad enough to ask for help and then actually ask for it. My support system had their trial by fire already so I knew exactly who I could turn to. I also had a fairly decent idea of how resilient I was and proof of it to point to.

By no means am I saying that I was ready to face a life after death. I don't see how anyone could be unless you've done it before (I have not). What I am saying is that I was able to get into the driver's seat, rather than the passenger's. I knew that Mark's death had the potential to take my own life. Full disclosure, right there. But my life shaped by mental illness meant that I knew what steps to take to prevent that from happening. Schedule emergency appointment with psychiatrist? Check. Secure two months of EAP-sponsored grief counseling? Check. Find a support group for young widows? Check. Encourage friends to reach out to me and make myself reach out to them? Check.

Was any of that easy? Fuck no. Did I want to stop going into the office, live in my pajamas, force-cuddle the cat and walk around our house weeping? Hell yes. But that is not what Mark would want. He took such good care of me during our time together. He knew what living with mental illness looked like, intimately. My failure to do everything possible to take care of myself would be slap in the face to him, our life, and how much we meant to and loved each other. Relying on what I know about myself and using that information to honor Mark is how I get out of bed, go to work, eat healthy food, and run regularly. It never felt like a conscious choice. Or that I had a choice at all. It just happened.

There are two things that do not exist in life after death: Normal and New Life. Normal also does not exist in life with mental illness, so at least I have that in common. As far as my new life goes, there is before and after. There is no new. I don't make plans more than a day or two in advance. I have no interest in thinking about where I'll be 3, 6, or 9 months from now. That is an unproductive thing to do both with mental illness and with grief because those thoughts can overwhelm you before you know it. Feeling overwhelmed when you are already vulnerable is a recipe for disaster. Knowing that, owning that, and doing something with that knowledge is critical. As much as a minute, hour, or day with mental illness or grief can be intolerable, it is survivable. When thriving isn't an option, you focus on surviving. If nothing else, I've got that part down.

On being "strong"

January 19, 2017

I don't generally get feedback from others during or after a run. I don't expect it either. We talk about how good or bad it went, insist we do it again soon, and go our separate ways. I was surprised to find myself on the receiving end of some lovely feedback after a recent run. My friend Jenn, her friend Kristen, and I had an adventure on a snowy Saturday afternoon, exploring a trail we hadn't run before. There were a few decent hills sprinkled in there. As much as they hurt, I might kinda sorta maybe love hills. They are hard as hell but they are so good for your running.

Once we wrapped up our 5 mile trek, we thawed out in Jenn's car and debriefed. I was completely caught off guard when I was told that I "looked so strong" when I was climbing the hills. That she wished she had my legs. Wow. I've been injured for so long that the idea of looking or feeling strong seems impossible. I had no idea how to accept that compliment, other than to deflect a bit and downplay the hard work I've put in these past months to get to where I am. This moment has stuck with me for the past couple of weeks now.

After further thought on this, I realized that I've gotten that same feedback in other places lately. My office, for example. While grief impacts everyone differently (and you will not know how you will react until it happens, trust me), one of the ways I've coped is by sticking to my routine as much as possible. I work when I normally work, where I normally work, and do not deviate. It is familiar, but it is also distracting and a way for me to switch off all non-essential emotional functions. In the weeks since Mark died, I have lost count of the number I've times someone has told me how strong I am. How if they were me they would be XYZ right now instead of my ABC. A similar deflection happens here as well, especially if you are not personally close with said co-worker.

With my brain constantly spinning its wheels, I started to ask myself how/if it is ok to acknowledge/accept the physical strength feedback. Sometimes you try to qualify it with all the things you did and do to get there (as I did). Sometimes you smile, say thank you, and mentally high five yourself for proof that whatever you've been doing is paying off. For me (and I'm speaking only for me), it is not the same with emotional strength. I find myself disagreeing, downplaying, bringing up what people don't see as proof that I am, in fact, weak. Why? I don't want to acknowledge weakness. But...I also don't want people to think I'm doing better than I am. That something no longer hurts the same because you can't see it tattooed on my face anymore. Am I not properly performing the part of newly widowed?

The fact is, most of the places you're displaying emotional strength are public. Professional. Where you need to look as together as possible. Where you might be expected to look as together as possible, if for no other reason than to make sure other people aren't uncomfortable. God forbid, right? There is a lot of pressure to "be ok" so that others don't have to worry about what to do or say or think. This sends the message that emotional pain is a shortcoming or weakness that is capable of being controlled and corrected entirely by the self. And sooner rather than later, k? Physical pain, on the other hand, is less icky for others. Easier to ask about, easier to offer unsolicited advice about. Easier. It doesn't invite others to project their own fears and expectations of how you should look/feel/act onto you.

It is also a lot harder and less acceptable to talk about what you are doing to emotionally cope, heal, manage. So much of what is seen (or not seen) is not close to representative of what went into getting to that publicly "strong" place. My Legs: hours of spinning, foam rolling, yoga, strengthening and activation exercises. My Heart: hours of crying, writing, glasses of wine, hot baths, prayer. The latter is not polite conversation. Similar to the unwritten rule of not telling someone how you actually are when they ask "how are you?"

We as humans are who we are. Flawed. Loving. I suppose all I want to communicate right now is that this is an experience I am having. I'm surrounded by people who care and want to provide support and none of us knows how this works. I'll continue to attack the hills (and soak in my tub) because that is what I know. It is what works for me right now. I just ask that if you feel so inclined as to tell me how strong you think I am, just pause for a moment. Wonder about what you might not be seeing. Or what I am choosing to be seen. Thanks.

Where do I go from here?

January 5, 2017

I don't know what is going to happen to this blog. Since I last posted, my life took a terrible and irreversible turn. On November 15, 2016, Mark died. I spent the first couple of weeks running through some of the anger and sadness. Whether my legs wanted to or not, I laced up and went out. If nothing else, it made me too tired to feel much of anything. I can't say that my body is pleased with this sudden change in activity level, but I don't care.

It has been...7 weeks now. I am still running as much (maybe a little bit more) as my body will let me. Of the many other coping mechanisms available to me, good and bad, I gravitate toward this one most often. Running is suddenly much more complicated. It was something we shared and a huge part of our relationship. Our medal and bib racks hang next to each other downstairs. I run with his Road ID on me. It is impossible not to think of Mark when I'm running, whether I want to or not.

I've done a few 5ks since he died. One we were registered to do together, and was just a week after his service in Mississippi. I would not have been able to show up, much less finish, without my PRFX friends there for every step. I am nowhere near racing shape, but the consistent mileage and the company of close friends is comforting.

I find myself wanting to process more of this experience, and writing is a common way for me to get my thoughts out. Running has never functioned independently from the rest of my life, and I think that is the case for many runners. What I can't work out on the road or trail, I will likely start working out here. For once, my lack of readership might work in my favor. I doubt I will need to worry about losing followers. I hope that anyone else who has or is experiencing any kind of grief may find, if nothing else, common experience here.

What is next? I can't say for sure. I hope to develop a solid base and then choose some races this year to honor Mark. Races he would enjoy. Races we likely would have done together. I am registered for two, but I'll share more details as they approach. Given my track record for injury, I'd like to be more certain of making the start line. For now, I'll leave you with the following picture. I found this magnet a week or two after Mark died, in a bookstore while looking for a journal. It just fits. I see it every day. And I keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Quick Hit - #CurrentStatus

October 27, 2016

Due in large part to your overwhelming (read: nonexistent) response to my Would You Rather post last week, I am bringing you another survey of sorts. You're welcome. Actually, you can thank Sam again over at Mobile Bay Runner.

Current books: Sam listed this as Book singular, but I am never reading just one so I'm sharing the active reading list. In no particular order: The New Interpreter's Study Bible (I went way out of my comfort zone and joined a 32 week long small group bible study at my church. So we're working our way through the workbook with this study bible. It's a lot of reading); Leviathan Wakes by James A. Corey (sci-fi space stuff, which I don't normally read but came highly recommended from a friend whose opinion I trust); The Journey Home by Jorge Posada (my favorite Yankee); and It Is Well by James D. Shipman (I haven't actually started it yet, but it was free from Prime and sounded interesting, so I snagged it).

Current podcast: This was originally called Current Music, but I changed it to podcast since I find myself listening to podcasts in the car more often than music these days. My top three are: Outside Podcast (from Outside magazine), The West Wing Weekly, and Ultrarunner Podcast. I listen to a few others, but these three are consistently awesome and I am always excited to see a new episode show up on my phone.

Current guilty pleasure: I honestly can't think of anything. The idea of a guilty pleasure reminds me of reading bad romance novels or trashy magazines, chick lit (or shit lit, as I prefer to call it), watching reality tv (hard pass), or eating some kind of junk food in secret. I do none of those things. Not to say that I don't indulge in something that I'm supposed to feel bad about (because that is what a guilty pleasure is, right?), but I can't think of something that I'm not already open about or that I just don't consider a guilty pleasure.

Current drink: Sparkling water. I cut out diet soda about a year ago and haven't looked back. It didn't take long for me to adjust to the lack of sweetness and I love all the fun flavors out there. Adding a Nuun tab now and then is also a great way to perk up your post work-out beverage. Feeling super fancy? Drink it over ice out of a big wine glass.

Current food: I'm gazing longingly to my right where a small Reese's peanut butter pumpkin sits. Staring at me. Waiting to fulfill its destiny. I don't buy stuff like this and keep it in the house, but they were in a meeting yesterday and I might have snagged one to snack on later. Later being now.

Current obsession: The word obsession makes me twitchy. Blame my occupational field, but I am not a big fan of its use in most contexts. I digress. I currently fuss excessively over the ridiculous costume that my cat will be wearing on Halloween. Yes, I put clothes on cats. I am not sorry.

Current craving: I feel like I should mention a food here, but I'm not craving anything. What I'd really love right now is a few days away from work and home and second work and training to sit down and get my head straight. I feel like I'm approaching some kind of crossroads or turning point or fork (or whatever metaphor for change) that needs more attention than I can give it right now. Every day I say I'll sit down later tonight and take a few minutes to really think/write/talk/whatever. And then I get home and hit the couch/floor/bed/bathtub and decide I'm too tired for things like this that deserve my energy more than anything else. Culture of busy, much?

Current need: A period of time longer than 5 minutes wherein I do not cough. Seriously. I'm over this coughing/sore throat business. I feel bad for my co-workers who have to suffer through it. Coughers and nose blowers and snifflers grate on my last nerve, so I can only imagine how much I'm annoying others. My physical presence was required in the office for the first three days of the week, otherwise I would have continued to work from home. I'm not germy contagious (that is another level of office rudeness), I just have a cough that WON'T DIE.

Current indulgence: I am slowly working on not considering this an indulgence and making it a necessity, but for now it feels extravagant (or selfish). I am in bed before 10 pm most nights. Sleep is one of those things we all say we need more of, is an easy thing to fix (no really, it is), and is often the first thing we sacrifice on the altar of Busy.

Current bane of my existence: This election cycle.

Current procrastination: Just one? An overdue reformatting of a document that I need to turn in but have not because I cannot stand formatting Word documents. Especially when I'll never use the document, formatted in that way, ever again.

Current confession: I'm capitalizing on my sore throat situation to eat as much ice cream as possible. Sorry not sorry.

Current quote: "Laugh, smile, and keep moving forward." - David Roche

Current excitement: I'm heading to NC the first weekend of November to meet my bestie's adorable baby and run with some of my favorite Oiselle ladies! SO PUMPED.

Current mood: A consistent blend of tired, overwhelmed, and distracted.

Your turn. Tell me one thing about your #CurrentStatus!