WWSD?

I joined a book club since moving (on up) to the West Side. I'm not sure why, because I would rather watch TV until my face fell off, but a little adult time with some nice women seemed like a good idea. The books so far have been OK, but it's the book we didn't read that has been the Best Book Ever(TM).

Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage can be described thusly: "Shackleton's third attempt (at reaching the South Pole) involved sailing the Endurance as far into Antarctica as possible, then finishing the expedition on foot. But almost from the beginning the expedition was beset by difficulties." And that's like saying that I dislike the Cowboys a little bit.

(Endurance beset in the Ice)

Don't want to give anything away because you MUST read it, but needless to say they lose the ship, have to camp on an ice floe for months (during winter), are cold and wet and hungry all the time and then finally six of them have to set sail for rescue on a tiny boat in the most turbulent water on the planet. Oh yeah, and then hike across an island that's basically a mountain range. They were gone for over two years.

So, of course, after I read the book (and cried like a baby), I rented the A&E movie and Michael and I watched it this week. Michael and I both decided that there was absolutely no way I couldn't finish the marathon after seeing what Shackleton and the crew went through. I think Michael said something like: "They had frostbite, had abscesses on their asses and sailed 800 miles. You're going to be running through Eugene Oregon in May."

And there you have it. While I'm running and contemplating quitting because that's what I do, I'll look down at my arm, on which I will have written "WWSD?"

What would Shackleton do?

Oh yeah, had a crappy week of running due to illness, but pounded out 12.25 with an average of 9:47 per mile. Sweet.

8.36 and 12 = Pain

Just because I don't post doesn't mean I don't run. Actually, it's kind of more like the opposite. The running is definitely increasing, because (drumroll) I actually paid money for the marathon and booked a motel room.

Try backing out of that. This is something I must do for my life to be complete. I'm not sure why. No, I am sure why. I hate it when someone asks me if I've ever run a marathon. Usually what I say is "I trained for a marathon, but I didn't finish." Anyone who's run any distance will understand the amount of miles that go into marathon training, but they still will only hear the hated, big three letters: DNF.

It's not like I can say:
"I spent months and months training for the marathon running every fucking Sunday morning up at Germantown road mostly by myself and then one day on an average training run with my work peeps I was running down a hill to finish the run and turned my ankle really bad and it hurt and I got up and kept running but my ankle swelled to the size of a grapefruit and I've never had a sprained ankle and had to stop running for at least four if not six weeks and then when I came back I must have been compensating for it because I developed this awful IT band injury about a month or so before the marathon and I researched it and stretched it and even took Vioxx which is now banned which explains a lot doesn't it but I had already paid for the marathon so I had to run it and at four miles in the IT band started hurting but I kept going but about mile nine I could barely bend my leg and I was having trouble stepping over railroad tracks on the course and I hated having to walk and it killed so bad so I stopped at 13 miles came home ate three doughnuts and watched the Eagles and had a pity party and felt like a big fat loser ever since."

It would just take up so much time, right? So anyway, I had small victories this week and last. Last week I did all the running and logged +31 miles. I also ran 10 miles on the Springwater trail with a person I didn't know who I just "bumped" into on the trail. It's one of the nicest things about running--the community. She was also a mom of two small kids, a Weight Watchers lifetimer (oh yes, I am!) and nice enough to engage me in conversation as I tried passing her at the slowest possible pace.

This Friday I had my speed workout. I did mile repeats (just two, don't get excited, Elf) and I am happy to report that although my goal was to average 9:20, I did 8:36 and didn't die. Very happy about that. The next day (yesterday) I ran 12 miles and almost died. Even though I wanted to call it a day at 10, I toughed it out.

Now, if I could please see some weight loss on the scale? What does a person have to do for chrissakes?

Doryman's Dark

Last Friday on my five-miler, I came across a big fat yellow lab parked in the middle of the road. An older couple in a bright canary yellow mini Cooper also saw the roadblock and circled around to ask me if it was my dog. Ah, no.

But due to its weight, yellow labness, and my expert Dog Whispering techniques, I stopped to help the dog. (This may surprise you, but I also typically hate other people's dogs.) After a couple minutes of ringing bells, we found a nice geezer lady who knew where the dog lived--supposedly. Of course, Dory (the dog) loved this woman because she put dog treats on her curb! Portland kills me sometimes. Also, geezer ladies know everything about everything in their neighborhoods.

By this time another runner and her dog had joined the fray, so me, old lady from the mini cooper, new runner girl (with a Texans hat on! Are you kidding me? A Texans hat? What the F??!!), runner-girl dog and fat ass Dory did a nice slow jog up a couple streets.

As the old lady starts jogging in her obviously non-running shoes, I tell her "You don't have to run! We'll wait for you at the top of the hill."

She says, "I used to be a runner. But now I have a bad knee. Got it from running too much when I was your age."

I tried to downplay my running and not make her long for marathon training and said, "Oh, I just run to keep in shape because I've had two babies."

And she said, "Oh, I can tell you're a good runner. You have a great gait."

And then, just like George Constanza after telling a good joke, I wanted to leave the scene immediately so nothing could ruin that nice moment of an old runner complimenting my gait.

Long story short, another geezer lady told us where Dory lived and we got her home safe and sound. To the son of her deceased owner, who has to put her up for adoption because he's a single guy and works all the time. Totally depressing.

Last note: I did ten miles on Saturday. I did not fuel properly the night before (Did you know pizza and cheesy bread is not a good choice? Me neither!) and did have a hard time finishing it up. I felt like I was hallucinating. I came inside, asked Michael for a Gatorade and he totally made fun of me for sounding pathetic. If I had had any strength I would have kicked his ass off the deck. Instead I sat on the stairs and cried. It was tough, but it's in the books.

Total mileage last week:
Monday: 4.5
Tuesday: 6.5
Wednesday: off
Thursday: off (bad Sarah! Went to the zoo instead)
Friday: 5.0
Saturday: 10

Total mileage this week is looking to be around 33. God help me.

Serenity NOW!

Last week I had some bad runs. Almost qualified as the worst runs ever, but those hold a special place in my heart. Specifically the one after I ate two tons of tater tots the night before. Mentioning the tater tot debaucle never gets old here at the Run Report.

Last Week
Anyhoo, during one of the horrible runs last week, I gave myself a little pep talk. Self, I said, these are the runs that matter. These are the runs that you'll remember when you're running the marathon. Because if you can suffer through these crappy four miles and not give up after a half a mile, that will help you during any race. My spirit lifted, my pace increased and a freaking geezer roared down the street in her Mercedes and almost killed me. Thus signaling the end of Good Times (TM).

So, last Saturday, after two bad runs, I told myself that I was going to run eight miles if it killed me, and I was going to run as slow as I wanted to. I psyched myself up for it, and lo and behold. Great run. Even averaged 10 minute miles. (tangent: I've busted out the four year old Garmin 201, a.k.a The Brick)

This Week
I took an extra day off (Monday) which brought on some major Catholic guilt. I am really am nervous about the marathon. Every run I take, I ask myself: "Can you do that entire route three more times? Eight more times? Five more times?"

My answer every time: "Fuck no."

Anyhoo, ran on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. Saturday was the long run. I did eight again, although I wanted to bump up to 10. I took some advise from another runner and repeated the eight.

I had a pretty strong run. I was feeling like a million bucks when I rounded the corner to my street. First, the neighbor-who-wants-nothing-to-do-with-me-although-she's-my-age-and-has-a-son-who's-right-between-Owen-and-Oliver-in-age, the very same neighbor-whose-dog-we-saved-when-it-ran-away, blows by me in her Land Rover. After getting pissed all over again about that situation, I kept running.

I passed a woman getting groceries out of her car. Her front door was open. The most ferocious shitzu from hell came screaming out of the house, teeth bared, ready to attach itself to my legs. After cowering in fear, I remembered my inner dog whisperer and told the dog NO! It went back inside.

Now, this is the second time this fucking dog has ambushed me. The lady, obviously a responsible dog owner, said "Bad timing!!" and laughed. Oh my fucking god. Seriously? Won't be so funny when I spray that stupid thing with MACE! Right in its FACE! And be totally FINE with it.

When I got home, Michael came out, saw my face and said, "Geez, I was expecting a smile after that run." I explained and he asked me the size of the dog. Oh, yes. He did.

I just bought What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami and I'm one page into the prologue. I love it. I'll post my favorite tidbits for you.

Tomorrow is speed workout day. At 845am. Time to NUT UP!

Ouch

Couple of things:

1) Glad it wasn't a blow out. It did look like it was heading that way.
2) We were basically playing with house money. We probably shouldn't have even been there.
3) Kurt Warner is still a fucking tool.

Tomorrow a bigger and better run report as all my focus now turns to running.

I am proud to report that I ran (a very slow) eight miles on Saturday after two very difficult runs on Thursday and Friday. More on all of that tomorrow.

Update on Band

From the Monkey:

"Oh, and um, America? Really, Sarah. No Sugar Tonight doesn't even sound like America. I'm sorry, but it's best you hear it from me. It's the Guess Who, and I guess this is always where those extra 10 years of classic rock listening I have on you comes into play. "

There you have it.

Don't Give Me No Hand-Me-Down Shoes

I just love that song by whoever that band is. I also like "No sugar tonight in my coffee." I think it's America. Anyhoo, I digress.

Let's get the obvious out of the way...the Eagles bandwagon is now FULL! Do not attempt to get on, you will be thrown to the street.

Tell me how nuts this scenario is:

1. Bucs (playing Raiders) and Bears (playing Houston) must lose. CHECK!
2. Eagles must beat the Cowboys to get a Wild Card spot! Double CHECK with an ass whooooooping as an extra bonus. Sorry Romo, you STILL SUCK!
   
3. First round Eagles must travel to Minnesota to face the leagues best rusher and a stout defense and win. CHECK! Sorry Brad Childress, you suck.You too, ALL DAY. Whatever.
   
4. Second round, Eagles must play the supposed "best team in the league" (take that you ESPN knobs! Eli SUCKS!) at the Meadowlands in 30 degree weather with a serious wind and win. CHECK!!

So, it's been a glorious ride, however, I am a bit nervous because everyone is picking us to win. And when I say us, I mean me too. I'm an integral part of this team. Anyhoo, fingers crossed.


Now onto the running portion of our show. Last week was Week One of marathon training for the Eugene marathon. Of course I threw myself into it because I hadn't run for three weeks thanks to Artic Blast 2008. Here's a recap:

Monday--"For Cheese??!!"
Started running and forced myself to run faster because I felt like running 10 minute miles was cheating. I thought I could go faster. So I killed myself for the first half of the run. On my way back, there is a slight hill. It shouldn't even be called a hill, but there is an incline. I had to walk it. And as I'm walking it, I start beating myself up--otherwise known as negative self talk.

Me: "Self, how do you feel right now? Pretty shitty, right? It didn't have to be this way. But no. You thought eating chocolate chips and cheese at night was a good idea. And now you feel like the biggest loser on the planet. For cheese?!! Are you effing kidding me? For cheese??!"

So that became my mantra on the way home.

Tuesday--Speedy Gonzalez (not really)
Tuesday, the plan called for 3 miles with 4X100 meter strides. I thought the "S" was for speed, not strides. Big mistake. So I did some running, got down to the track and my hat was blown off my head. Not a good omen. I did my 4X100 meter sprints and then came back home. Forty five minutes later I realized I probably had done some damage to my quad, as I couldn't descend the stairs.

Wednesday--Rest (cleaned the house)

Thursday--Amber Alert
I've been trying to get Amber to do this marathon with me, and if not the marathon, at least a good number of training runs and definitely my weekend long runs. She and I headed up to the zoo and did a nice 35 minute trail run in the rain. It was fantastic to run on the trail.

One thing I learned about Amber, when she crests a hill that has just kicked both our asses, she prefers to keep running. Me? Not so much. I prefer to lay down and catch my fucking breath and do a lot of swearing. Anyhoo, great run, great company!

Friday--Rest again

Saturday--Big Stumping
Amber agreed to a long run! I was supposed to go 8 miles, but Amber only wanted to do six and I was still nursing the leg issue. So, six it is!

We drove up to Wildwood Trail at Germantown road and began the run. We did a run from the very nice box of Forest Park hikes and runs (it makes a great gift) called The Big Stump.

Here's typical conversation (keep in mind I run in front. It's how I roll, people.)

Me: Whew, I'm tired. I should slow down.

Amber: Then slow down.

Me: OK (not slowing down AT ALL. So weird!)

We saw the Big Stump. Not as impressive as the old growth trees I've seen on another run, but pretty big nonetheless. However, definitely not as big as the freaking 1/2 mile hill we had to walk up to get back to the trail.

Then, on the seventh day I rested again. Ran 5.25 miles on Monday and 4.75 today. Feeling pretty good. Getting in the miles.

And so, we are all caught up. Remember, fly eagles fly!