March 2013

Coach Christine Answers Virtual 5K Training Questions

This is how she rolls: coach Christine post-run and her son

This is how she rolls: coach Christine post-run and her son

Sarah and Dimity bring on Coach Christine Hinton to enlighten all of you who are now four weeks into training for the AMR Virtual 5K—or training for any race. The ladies talk about how to maintain an even pace while running and how to get over a sucky run. (Everyone has ‘em!) They delve into the topic of best foods for fueling and recovery methods. And they shed light on the burning question of how to get faster. But first they talk about Dimity’s ailing toe—and the bit of bone that’s bugging it. (Gag!)

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Week 4, AMR Virtual 5K: Pressing On After 2 Rough Weeks

Aimee's new colorful kicks!

Aimee’s new colorful kicks!

Mandi and Aimee, mother runners training together for the AMR Virtual 5K, acknowledged the past two weeks weren’t the easiest training-wise. “My life has been crazy the past two weeks and we’ve been having to train separately,” Aimee confided. Mandi, too, had her share of unexpected events, most notably catching a stomach bug that derailed a week of training. But, these BRFs are keeping the faith and are eager to keep training strong. One big boost: new shoes!
What’s been clicking so far in your training?
A: I set the timer in my phone to buzz when it’s time to switch from walking to running. Two minutes, then three, now four. I just keep reminding myself, “You just did three, four can’t be that hard.”
M: I agree with Aimee about the timer. When I have been able to train with Aimee, the timer method works really well.
Any bumps along the way that you’d want to share?
A: Life. Kids, work, this spring that just won’t start! Lots of excuses that I need to be better about managing around.
M: I had a stomach bug for a week, so that halted training pretty quickly. Throw in work, kids, a sick husband (also the stomach bug), no power from snowstorms, etc.
Any standout moments?
A: The last long run we went on together, the very first run set is straight up a hill. At the top I exclaimed, “I do not love running.” Fortunately we kept at it. By the end I was loving it again.
M: We are in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, so there are hills everywhere. While being at the bottom of the hill and trying not to trip or die on the way up, it’s a great feeling I have when I do reach the top of the hill. And new shoes make a huge difference! I got fitted for a pair of Brooks and I only regret not getting fitted sooner.
A: We both went and got professionally fitted for new shoes. I am loving them! If you’re a newbie like me, give yourself the gift of going and getting checked out.
Any particular item/person/mantra helping you stay motivated?
A: Eyes on the prize, right? We have a 5K Color Me Rad in April and then the 5K on May 11. We’ve recruited big teams for these two events—we can’t look like jerks and not finish.
M: Not only will we not look like jerks, but we will be carrying our teams over the finish line.
Anything else you’d like to add about this experience so far?
A: I apologize to Mandi, and promise to be a better training partner!
M: And I apologize to Aimee. We are in this together and even though we had a difficult few weeks, she still inspires me and I’m thankful to have her as a bestie, a colleague, and a trainer.

What Would Another Mother Runner Do?

Jessica, baby Samantha, and James before the local turkey trot last year.

Jessica, baby Samantha, and James before the local turkey trot last year.

In previous episodes of What Would Another Mother Runner Do (WWAMRD), we’ve debated with Megan whether she should run a marathon she’s just not that into; we’ve grimaced with Kelin as she dislocated her hip at Mile 20 yet continued to run the Chicago Marathon; and we’ve marveled at the MacGyver-like cleverness of Ellison when a driver creeped her out mid-run. Now let us introduce you to Jessica, mother of one with another on the way. She wrote to us with a time-sensitive debate, thus the reason I am posting this even though Dimity is on vacation with her family. (This comes into play later.)
Jessica is currently seven weeks pregnant with a half-marathon scheduled for April 7. (I’ll do the math for you: She’ll be 8-9 weeks pregnant on race day.) She has trained diligently for this race. As she wrote, “I did hills, I did tempo runs, and I followed the training plan strictly. But now I just feel exhausted.  I am freaking out that I will not be able to do this race.”
A bit more background: Jessica ran all during her first pregnancy, despite feeling tired and nauseous during that first trimester, too. (Didn’t we all!?) During this training cycle, she’s been taking it one day at a time. Over the weekend, she ran 10 miles with her husband, James, who is also registered for the April 7 half-marathon. Her doc has given her the go-ahead. It’s just, as Jessica writes, “The race has just got me scared now instead of excited!”
What would you do?

Triumphant Jessica at the end of 2010 Rock 'N' Roll Philadelphia.

Triumphant Jessica at the end of 2010 Rock ‘N’ Roll Philadelphia.

Sarah answers: I’d continue to take it day by day. I vividly remember during my pregnancies that just because I felt great on Tuesday, it didn’t mean I’d feel good on Saturday–let alone Wednesday or even Tuesday evening. I’d hydrate extra-well the day before the race (hit the nuun hard, Jessica!), try to get some good shut-eye in the days leading up to the race, but then on race-day morning, I’d just see how I felt when I woke up. If I had some pep in my step, I’d line up with my man and go from there; but if there was a hitch in my giddy-up, I’d go heavy on the cowbell and cheer from the sidelines. (Sitting on the curb as often as I felt like it.)
Kristin (our new mother runner sidekick in Portland) answers (in lieu of Dim): First of all, congrats for running through your pregnancy thus far. That’s a huge accomplishment. I remember, as if it were yesterday, my inability to leave the couch in my first trimester. GO FOR IT. You will be swept up in the momentum of the race: All the energy, excitement, and adrenaline will help carry you through. You’ve already done all the hard work. Don’t deny yourself the celebration. Yes, it will be a slightly different race than you originally planned, but what an amazing story this will be for baby #2. Make sure your husband snaps some special pictures for the baby book. How many women get to say they have completed a half-marathon while preggs?  You get to join a very special, courageous, and, yes, slightly crazy, group of women!
We’ll have to stay tuned for Jessica’s ultimate decision. But she’s eager to hear from others. 
What would you, another mother runner, do?

Jessica even bought our, "This is not a speed bump. And I'm not slowing down." tee for motivation. (Love her!)

Jessica even bought our, “This is not a speed bump. And I’m not slowing down.” tee for motivation. (Love her!)

And if you’ve got a running-related moment you’d like some clarity on, via WWAMRD, feel free to email us at runmother [at] gmail [dot] com. Thanks!

What’s for Lunch—and What Should I Do?

The lunches Dimity and Sarah pack never look like this--and if they did, their kids would be ravenous an hour later!

The lunches Dimity and Sarah pack never look like this–and if they did, their kids would be ravenous an hour later!

The ladies launch into a discussion about lunch-making fatigue: Dimity suffers from it, and Sarah has recently discovered a few cures. After reliving encounters with various lunchmeats during their formative years, the mother runners get to the meat of the show: answering questions from their Facebook community. They give Amy advice on how to stick to a training schedule despite constant roadblocks; they tell Shannan how to fit in cross-training. And they debate the merits of massage during a training cycle versus post-race. As usual, the duo is true yin and yang.

If you’re digging our podcasts, we’d be super-grateful if you’d take a minute (because we *know* you have so many to spare!) to write a review on iTunes.

[audio:http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/podcasts.pagatim.fm/shows/amr_032113.mp3]

**Also, the quickest way to get our podcasts is to subscribe to the show via iTunes. Clicking this link will automatically download the shows to your iTunes account. It doesn’t get any simpler than that!

Week 3, AMR Virtual 5K: Running Buddies at a Distance

BRF Erin and Keli: in the same time zone at last!

BRF Erin and Keli: in the same time zone at last!

Erin and Keli are mother runners, best friends, and “basically the same person in different bodies and different parts of the country.” (Erin lives in Hebron, Indiana while Keli resides in Simpsonville, South Carolina.) They let us know the ups and downs of having a running buddy who lives in a different time zone as they embark on the AMR Virtual 5K.
How did you become a mother runner?
K: Running has always been the easiest sport for me to do, because it’s the one thing I feel like I always have time to do. With three kids ages 5 and under, I can’t seem to find time to join classes at the gym or hop on my bike or go to a yoga studio, but I always have time to get up early and run. My husband is also a runner, so it’s something that we had in common when we were dating, and it’s something we still enjoy to do together when we can.
E: I started running two years ago. My youngest son had been diagnosed with epilepsy and I was in need of some sort of outlet, plus I’d learned of a nearby epilepsy 5K. Although I didn’t have enough time to train for and run the 5 at that particular time (as it was only a week or so after the date that I read about it), I made a promise to myself that I was going to run it the next year. I started the Couch to 5K program the very next day and I haven’t stopped since. I started all of this to do a 5K for a cause close to me; I had no idea that I’d end up actually loving running and even running a half-marathon before that 5K rolled around.

If you can't do a 5K, do a half-marathon, right Erin?

If you can’t do a 5K, do a half-marathon, right Erin?

What spurred you to do the AMR Virtual 5K?
K: After the birth of my son last June, it took me a few months to get back out there. I was doing really well in the fall, but then the holidays and sickness got the best of me, and I needed a goal and the accountability to get back on a good schedule. Once I saw the AMR Virtual 5K, I knew it was the perfect opportunity for me to take it slow and start forming those running habits again.
E:  I’m coming back from an injury following my last half-marathon. I’ve been taking it easy and not really following any sort of plan, though I’ve felt like I’m ready to do something. When Keli told me that she was going to do the AMR Virtual 5K to get back into running, I told her that I would do the 5K Own It plan “alongside” her to support her and keep her motivated. Since we both run in the morning, we will check in with each other via text. It’s nice to know that even though I’m running alone, Keli is out there, too. There was a morning when I really, really wanted to ignore my 4:30 alarm, but I knew that Keli was going to getting up and I felt like I’d let her down if I didn’t.
How has your friendship been strengthened through running?
K: Erin and I are basically the same person in different bodies, so running is just another thing we have in common. We have both dealt with some pretty heavy things while running–Erin was there for me when I had to completely quit running two weeks before my first half-marathon due to a miscarriage, and I have tried to support her as she has been dealing with sesamoiditis.
E:  Keli was a runner before me. As I first started to build beyond three miles, she was training for a half-marathon and was such a huge inspiration for my own running journey. I remember being so amazed by the distances she could run and thinking I’d never get there, even though she assured me I could and would. On days when it felt tough or I had setbacks, she would always talk me through it via text or on the phone and remind me that it was normal. Having running in common is simply another way for us to connect and share and support each other.
How are you handling the miles between you [as in, living far apart]? 

Races: the only time Keli runs in the daylight

Races: one of the few times mother runners like Keli can run in the daylight

K: We text. A lot. I am an hour ahead of her, so it actually works out great in the morning, because she gets up at 4:30 to run while I get up at 5:30.  She is usually the one telling ME to get my butt out of bed and get out there, but it works! We also text each other after our runs to see how it went and then throughout the day to see how our muscles and feet are holding up. We’re like iMessage cheerleaders.
E: We text each other in the morning before some runs just to say, ‘Hey, I’m up and heading out.’ Sometimes the miles are hard. When life is difficult for either one of us, I wish that I could meet Keli at the end of her driveway, vent it out on a run, and get coffee and a donut afterward. Those moments are tough, definitely, but I’m glad that technology enables [us] to still figure out a way to handle the miles and train together.
What’s your #1 reason for running? 
K: My kids. I want to be a good role model for my children, and if my husband and I lead a healthy and active life with our kids now, I hope it will be easier for them to maintain that throughout their lives. I also enjoy being able to chase them around the yard and play soccer and run after my oldest on her bike without feeling like I’m going to hurl.
E: I teach 8th grade and I have two young kids. I feel like very little of my day is left up to me. From the moment I step into my classroom until I put children to bed, someone always needs something. While I don’t mind that and love my kids and my job, running gives me a balance. The time when I’m running is just mine. I can lose myself in my thoughts and find a sense of calm and center before the whirlwind of my day starts. It makes giving up an hour of sleep entirely worth it (most days).

Keli and her reasons for running

Keli and her reasons for running

running (3)

Erin discovered the secret: give your kid an otter pop and he’ll come cheer for you

Mile 40

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I would call my bike ride on Saturday a grind, but that doesn’t really do it justice. A total slog isn’t accurate enough either. Three-and-a-half hours during which I threw out the f-bomb more times (into thin air) than I’d want to admit, 210 minutes during which I was just thoroughly, completely bitchy and bitching.
A little background: the ride itself is a grind. Nearly 4,000 feet of climbing over 25 miles. The last time I did this ride around and up Deer Creek Canyon was over two years ago. In other words, plenty of time to forget the intricacies of the ride.
After 45 minute of I did my best to get over myself. I tried to smile, as we talked about on a recent podcast. Eases the effort supposedly. Felt too forced.
I counted cracks in the pavement: ride over 5, start over again. I got to about 30 before I fell back into my mood.
I asked myself, “Would Susan quit right now?” No. “Would Michelle quit right now?” No. “Would Cynthia quit right now?” No. “Would any mother runner quit right now?” No. I didn’t care. I wanted to quit.
I told myself I was so lucky to be climbing in Colorado, that one day, I’ll long for the days when I could actually do this. No dice.
I told myself I needed a training partner. I’d be much happier if I had a pal next to me. But who would want to be with me right now? I thought.
My Garmin, which, when it is in bike mode counts each “lap” as five miles—instead of one, when its in running mode—didn’t help things. As I was teetering along, something like “32:30” came up as a lap time. I’m not even going six miles an hour, I thought. Just pissed. I promised myself that would be my slowest lap time for this ride. For sure. I would pick it up and push harder. 37 minutes later, another lap came around. F*&^.
The sky was flat and listless, and so were my legs. The canyon looked brown and weary, like spring was never going to come. My thoughts exactly. I was supposed to keep my heart rate below 155; even in my easiest gear, I couldn’t get my heart to work less than 160 beats a minute. I felt defeated, alone, so sick of training, and most of all, so sick of myself and my attitude.
Somehow, I slogged it out to the top, and relief flooded through me. Done. Then I headed down the way I came. Dare I say it was worse? It may have been.
I am pretty good at knowing how to dress for a run, but knowing what to wear on a bike on a 45 degree, overcast day is different. Especially when I’m climbing (sweat-tee!) and then descending (freeez-zing!). I brought a windbreaker, which I put on before I went down, for a fourth layer on top, but I didn’t bring thick enough gloves. By about halfway down, I couldn’t squeeze the brakes hard enough. I had to stop, take off my little Lycra numbers, and stick each hand under my layers and in its opposing armpit to warm up. And before I left home, I didn’t want to waste time trying to track down my shoe covers, so my feet felt like I was standing barefoot on an ice rink.
Have I made it clear how unhappy I was?
Because then mile 40 came. And Bri, my coach, loves to throw in pick-ups; run fast for 30 seconds every mile or speed up for this lap in the pool. Even though I know they are beneficial, I do not like pick-ups. Especially because I’m not the type of person who, when I’m in a race, thinks, “Oh, that person is passing me. I should pick it up so they can’t get by me.” Instead, I think, “Oh. And I’m passed yet again. By somebody looking stronger than I feel.” I am just not a pick-up gal.

Mile 40, another way. Heart rate is red, speed is blue, elevation is green.

Mile 40, another way. Heart rate is red, speed is blue, elevation is green.

Anyway, mile 40. When that magic number hit, I was supposed to get my heart rate up to at least 160 so I could have one strong effort when I was tired. I was still descending at mile 40, which meant I had to turn around and head back uphill.
I could’ve pretended I didn’t read the instructions. (I almost didn’t, actually.) I could’ve just said no way, I’m so wiped and I want to be done. But I’d made it to the top of the climb, in spite of my listless legs and awful attitude, and now I’d made it this far. I hung a U-turn and headed back up.
My legs groaned as they were called back into action, and despite shifting into my second and even third easiest gear, I couldn’t get my heart to cooperate. I hit and plateaued at 153. Winning the lottery would’ve been easier than finding 7 more beats. I huffed and puffed for about 5 minutes, and then swung around again and finished the ride.
I could zoom out and say, as I was strengthening my quads, I was also building character and mental toughness. And I guess I was, but really, that feels more lofty than how I felt.
I wish I ended the ride having some amazing insight about toughing it out when I’d really, really, really rather not, when ever fiber of my being is saying, “What in tarnation? Why are you even out here on a Saturday morning, by yourself, climbing these crazy hard switchbacks? Who even cares? Go home, have a latte, read the paper, play Apples to Apples Jr., and just get over it.”
That’s the thing: I’ll never get over it. For better or worse, challenges like Mile 40 define who I am. Even on the days when I question my goals and my lifestyle with every.single.pedal.stroke, I take comfort and pride in the fact that I will always turn around at Mile 40. I will always do, to the best of my ability, the work that needs to be done.
And that, I realize as I type this, is more than enough wisdom to come out of a crapalicious Saturday morning ride.

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