March 2016

#202: Achilles International Guide + Runner

Achilles International guide Kat Bateman with her adorable baby, Esmé

Achilles International guide Kat Bateman with her adorable baby, Esmé

Sarah and Adrienne Martini welcome two guests to share different perspectives about Achilles International, a non-profit organization with the mission to enable people with all types of disabilities to participate in mainstream athletics, like 10Ks, marathons, and triathlons. First up is Kathleen “Kat” Bateman, a mother runner who is the director of the New York chapter of Achilles. Having guided individuals in more than 100 (!!) races, Kat shares what it’s like to enter another athlete’s world for the duration of an event. She describes why it’s so much more exhausting—and rewarding—than completing an event solo. Being the AMR podcast, the conversation naturally delves into port-a-potty stops and pre-race “pee anxiety.” Next the gals are joined by a Charles-Edouard Catherine (yes, a man!), who is legally blind and relies on Achilles’ guides in races and for his training runs as he preps for the Boston Marathon. Charles talks about his experience running his first 26.2, the New York City Marathon, with three Achilles guides. Find out why his guides wear two watches, and what three goals Charles takes into a race.

In the intro, Sarah and Adrienne rope podcast producer Alex into a laughable debate about what dessert penguins in Antarctica might enjoy. If you have a suggestion, tweet it to @TheMotherRunner using the hashtag #PenguinDessert.

*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. Many thanks.

**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. We’ve also joined the Acast podcast network, download their app to hear our podcast and many others like it!

Boston Marathon Training Run in TrackTown USA

“If only the walls could talk.”

That’s what Molly, Lane (Molly’s 20-year-old daughter), and I thought on Saturday when our Airbnb host in Eugene, Oregon, told us running greats Ryan and Sara Hall had stayed in the very same cottage where we were spending the night before an 18-mile training run! It was a sign we were going to have an epic run in the city nicknamed TrackTown USA.

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Three runners questioning dubious weather.

 

We were right—but for the wrong reasons. Heavy raindrops batter the cottage roof all night, as blustery gusts of winds lash the moss-covered trees outside the window. Clouds of far-more-than-50 shades of grey crowd the sky. Groans fill the cottage as we contemplate 3+ hours outside in this weather. This is definitely going to be a run to remember. I try to lighten the mood by joking we hit treadmills in TrackTown.

Instead we layer on Saucony Bullet Capris (Molly and me) and Bullet Tight (always-cold Lane), jackets (them) and a vest (me), and portable porches (known outside of Oregon as “running hats”), and grimly head into the elements. We run a few blocks toward the paved trail that hugs the banks of the Willamette River. It’s somewhat familiar territory for me, as I ran my fastest 26.2 in the 2009 Eugene Marathon, and I conquered a 22-mile training run there in the lead-up to that race. Molly and Lane are running the Eugene Marathon on May 1, so the run is ideal training for them; the flat terrain isn’t great simulation as a Boston Marathon training run (the East Coast course is much hillier), but my legs and lungs were grateful for the more tabletop-like route.

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The plan, magic-marker style.

 

Our coach-dictated workout is laid out like this:

4-mile warmup to “wake up” our legs

2 miles alternating 1:00 building gradually to 5K feel, 2:00 ease off

3 x (¾-mile @9:15 pace, ¼-mile ease off)

2 miles alternating 1:00 building gradually to 5K feel, 2:00 ease off

3 x (¾-mile @ “a little faster than before,” ¼-mile ease off)

4 miles “controlled and comfortable”

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Molly and Lane, ready to rock this run.

 

I try a new fueling tactic, taking in a GU Energy Gel earlier than usual, at Mile 2 (then again at miles 4, 8, 12, and 15). When it’s time to kick it up a few notches at Mile 4, Molly and I repeat it’s a “gradual build,” meaning we can progress from second gear to slightly more than fourth gear without gunning the motor. Somehow this mental game saves us slightly, knowing we don’t have to push hard the entire minute. The wind pushes us around, making me grateful we don’t need to be nailing a specific pace during these two miles.

When it’s time to shift to 9:15 pace, us mother runners steel ourselves with a reminder we get a quarter-mile break from the effort. As pea-size raindrops pelt us sideways, I realize chunking it up is the way to get through this workout both because of the weather—and the effort. So during the first ¾-mile race-pace segment, when I think about it being the first of six, I quickly discard that thought, letting it be carried away by the wind that never seems to be at our backs.

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We know this system far too well now.

 

Once we’re thoroughly soaked, the miles tick off surprisingly quickly: The workout is challenging, but varied. It’s time for a third GU; it’s halfway through the run; we have “only” eight miles to go; just 10K left. The final three ¾-miles are the toughest for me: Lane and I keep reminding two-steps-ahead Molly of our agreed-upon tactic that I’ll lead the pace. We flip directions with two repeats left, and the wind pummels us. I give up checking my Garmin, telling Molly and Lane, “I’m doing my best, whatever the pace is.” At this point, we’re on a part of the race course I remember well, so I summon strength I had during that PR-effort. [Post-run, my coach points out we maintained 8:30 pace during this section—hot damn!]

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Runners with attitude.

 

We should be jubilant when we hit Mile 14—only easy cooldown remains—but we’ve lost the trail, and the rain is falling harder. Running on a sidewalk next to a major road, we are walloped by a wave of water sent up by a passing car. Water fills my shoes. After asking for directions, we wend our way back to the path. Our spirits rise when we spy a sign telling us a pedestrian bridge near our Airbnb is 3.5 miles away.

Out of boredom, I command Lane, a sophomore at Oregon State University, to entertain us with tales of college life. Halfway through mile 16, the sun breaks through the clouds; my hands feel dry for the first time in nearly three hours—and my feet suddenly have more spring. Our Garmins click over to 18 miles just as we reach the road the cottage is on. We now have our own running tales to tell—no need for the walls to speak.

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We did it!

Have you had an epic training run recently? Share details about it in Comments section below this blog post on our website. 

If you’re running the Eugene Marathon, we hope to see you there: We are going to be selling our books and merchandise at the Eugene expo, including this limited-edition, short-sleeve technical T-shirt. We suspect your friends will be green with envy when you wear it!  

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You know you want one!

Strength Moves for Runners: the Lunge

Hello, Angie Krueger! The certified personal trainer is serving up a series of strength moves for runners to help power every stride. Angie’s back story: Aside from having run 27 marathons in 27 different states, Angie was recently featured on AMR’s podcast (episode 194, where she explained, among other things, what “cough muscles” are and how to activate them for better results. Intrigued, aren’t you?). Recently she shared the DOs and DON’Ts of a plank, the power squat, and here, she shares the all-important lunge. (Form is EVERYTHING.) Put the three moves together for an effective strength circuit, and come back every other Tuesday for a follow-up move to help you #findyourstrong.

 

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Proper lunge form. Remember: We are not gymnasts, so no feet on “balance beam.” Wide like railroad tracks!

 

A lunge is a very good move for the glutes (butt), hamstrings and thighs. This move is key for runners that want to help knee function and sprint speeds.

1. Start with your feet shoulder width apart, like on railroad tracks. One foot slides straight back and long, like a semi split.

2. Once your foot is planted, keeping all of the weight in the front heel, drop slowly straight down so your front knee is stacked over your front ankle and your back knee is fist distance from the ground. NEVER DROP YOUR KNEE TO THE GROUND. This would result in injury to the knee. Also, if you already have a knee injury don’t go as low.

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A close-up of killer form.

 

3. Return to starting position.

4. Repeat, as slow and controlled as you can, completing three sets of 15.

5. If you want a challenge, when you return to the start position, lift the knee that went back to the lunge up to hip height and work on balance. If you want a major challenge, add a hop at the top with that knee up at hip height.

FYI, don’t do the following:

 

Knees over toes. Injury waiting to happening!

 

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Keep your chest up to keep all the weight safe in your heel.

 

Tell us: What’s your favorite quickie strength move to do?

Hear About The History of AMR

Sarah Bowen-Shea of "Another Mother Runner" getting interviewed for "The Money JAR"

Sarah Bowen-Shea of “Another Mother Runner” getting interviewed for “The Money JAR”

If you’re looking for more chitchat to keep you company on your next long run–or laundry-folding session–take a listen to this interview with our own Sarah Bowen Shea on Junior Achievement’s podcast The Money Jar. She recounts the birth of Another Mother Runner and talks about the importance of following your passion in the work world. Consider sharing with your kids, as this podcast from Junior Achievement is aimed at middle and high schoolers.

#201: Best-of Another Mother Runner Podcast, Part 2

podcast 201

A compilation of topics celebrating 200 episodes of the Another Mother Runner podcast!

There have been so many anecdotes shared, advice imparted, and laughter snorted over the last 100 episodes of the Another Mother Runner podcast, Sarah and Dimity had to do two best-of shows. In this episode, a plus-size runner tells how she is crusading to take ownership of the word “fat.” Olympian Suzy Favor Hamilton shares how her mania and depression lead her down “a very dangerous path,” and leads by example to banish the stigma of mental illness. Coach Christine gives great advice on how to clip those frustrating final seconds (or minutes) off a time goal, while time-management coach Jill Farmer tells why there really isn’t one “right time” to take on a challenge. The show ends with a standout tale from each mother runner. No wonder this mother runner podcast is one of the longest ones ever!

*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. Many thanks.

**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. We’ve also joined the Acast podcast network, download their app to hear our podcast and many others like it!

Dry Martini: I Am Happy and Sad for Me (Spoiler: It Involves the 2016 New York City Marathon)

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Just like 82,000+ runners, I spent most of Tuesday cringing every time I checked my in-box. Just like roughly 77 percent of those runners who entered the lottery for the 2016 New York City Marathon, I didn’t get in.

Which is OK, I guess. There was an initial bit of severe disappointment; followed quickly by relief, which was then followed quickly by “… but maybe a charity slot?,” which was then followed by a prudent decision to wait until 2017 because this summer/fall will be a busy one, which was then followed by a series of emails this morning that made me reconsider, sort of.

So, in short: if you’re looking for a solid “I’m not running this in 2016,” I can give you 98 percent of one. Unless I’ve changed my mind again by the time you read this. Which is not unlikely.

Just so we’re clear, though: I have zero desire to run a marathon. I have all of the desire to run the NYC marathon. What can I say? I’m a puzzle.

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Just added an Austin race picture to the windowsill at my day job. I can’t help but smile when I see these.

Speaking of inconsistent things, we’ve reached the point in the year where spring feels like it is gingerly sticking its snout around the corner to see if it’s time to really burst forth. It’s warmer, yes, and brighter. Soon the Spring peepers will be getting squished on local roads. One sure sign is that the sap has started to run, which is such a New England-y thing to say I expect to be whisked away by flannel-wearing socialists driving a Subaru but that doesn’t make it less true.

We’re still not quite on the other side yet, though. It was in the 20s when I set out for my Sunday long run and the wind was just on this side of gale force. Still, when Coach says run for 7-8 miles easy, I run for 7-8 miles easy. It was 7.6 miles exactly, according to Herr Garmin, who remains my stalwart companion no matter the weather.

I picked the long route that I only do when there isn’t snow. It’s been long enough  since I’d run it that I’d forgotten what 400 feet of uphill feels like, which is to say, like more uphill than ought to be allowed under the Geneva conventions. There was a woman in a lavender jacket who was about 800 feet in front of me the whole time. I kept trying to catch her when she slowed to a walk on the uphills but then I’d hit that same uphill, which meant that she was over the hill and speeding up while I power walked. I played this little game for three miles and never did catch up. Well done, lavender jacket lady. Well done.

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I promise you that lavender jacket lady is in this picture.

The whole run was like that, really. I couldn’t quite get my act together. The zipper on my aging blue fleece kept sliding down. I couldn’t co-ordinate the hydrating and the breathing. My right shoe kept untying itself, even with a double knot. My nose wouldn’t stop running, which seems to be an unintended consequence of being hydrated.

Speaking of, let me state the blindingly obvious again: this whole hydration thing holds water.

Sorry.

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Look, Coach, I’m hydrating! And, yes, that is a frozen lake behind me.

I finished my long run feeling tired but good. While some of that is simple experience — I’ve run a few 7 – 8 milers at this point — a lot of it can likely be chalked up to having enough fluid in my body for the whole run. Turns out those experts might know something. Yes, it irks me, too.

What also irks me is core work and intervals. Yeah, I know I need to do both. And, yeah, I resent the heck out of ‘em. But I’ve been making a point of hauling my aging keister through a series of planks, crunches, and bridges at least twice a week because I can be a grown-up and stuff. Not sure if abs of steel will ever be in my grasp; still, I have been sitting up straighter so I’ll count it as a win.

I honestly don’t mind intervals nearly as much as core work and can generally approach it with, if not gusto, then at least a sense of adventure. It’s fun in a sick sort of way to push your limits over a very limited length of time. Even if six two-minute intervals feel like torture, like they did on Tuesday, there’s comfort in knowing the hard workout will end once enough time has passed. Some days, that has to be enough to get you through, even when you are starting to feel like the air doesn’t have nearly enough oxygen.

And now for the audience participation portion of this week’s column:

In just a few short weeks — March 20 -24 — I’ll be heading back to Texas for conference in San Antonio related to my actual job. I’ll mostly be booked with conversations about alumni magazines (and, yes, I do find that incredibly interesting) but am wondering if anyone wants to go for a run near the Mission Trail on Wednesday afternoon/early evening? Runner requirements: not a murderer, can bring sunscreen, and has a good selfie game. If this sounds like you, comment below.

Next up on my racing docket is the local Cider Mill 5/10K, which rewards you at the end with a glass of the hard stuff. Then off to my beloved Pittsburgh, where I’ll be womaning the AMR booth with BAMR Heather. I might need a recruit or two to lend us a hand, however. Anyone free for a few hours on April 29 or 30? Maybe by then I’ll have made up my mind about NYC….

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