The most interesting part of this post is skinning my ass on a trail on Tuesday. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting to talk about next week.
Monday: Swim 2700 yd
Another Monday, another 13-hour workday. Now that Girls on the Run has started again, my Mondays have become somewhere between exhilarating and suicidal as I get no time off during that time (if you count the 1 hour that I may or may not get to work out and the 45 minutes that I get to do admin stuff between 7:15 and 8:30). I managed to piggy-back a 2700 yard swim onto my Spinning class, doing a lot of drill. I can't even remember this workout, so I won't bore you with it.
Tuesday: Run 3.25 mi
Tuesday the sun was back and I had some time to go running, so I hit the hills hoping to find some new trails. This time I drove to a trailhead half way up the mountain with the plan to just keep making lefts and see where it took me. What I think I found was downhill mountain bike trails. The hills were so steep that I kept taking these prissy little mincing steps because it was really too steep for any human to try actually running on something like this. To be honest, I don't think any wheeled vehicle should be riding down something like this either, but I guess that's what full-face masks and body armor are for.
At one point I found myself standing at the top of what must have exceeded a 50% grade. It was only a short drop of about 30-50 feet, but the ground seemed to stop, and then start again about 5 yards away and two stories below me. BOMBS AWAY!!!! I got to the bottom of it with only a bit of knee soreness and quite a bit of embarrassing arm flapping, but I found my way to the bottom upright. Then I continued down the half overgrown trail.
No more than a minute later, I hit another short dip -- the kind that makes your tummy drop out when you're skiing but that's over before you know it. I started down it hardly breaking stride, until my foot slipped. I tried to dig my heel into the dirt, but it all slid down the hill with me, just like in a cartoon. My ass hit the dirt, and then I just kept going I sledded down that hill on my ass, feeling my spanky shorts pull up the hip level. The loose dirt and gravel dug shallow stinging cuts up my right leg from my ankle to the fleshy center of my ass cheek.
I got up more angry than hurt and no more than a minute later the trail was swallowed by a clump of overgrown poison oak, or what I think is poison oak but could very well be dingleberry bushes for all I know. I picked my way through the plants very carefully in my short shorts and ankle biter socks, and thought I got to the other side safely, but there were two whip-like spots on my ankles that burned and I couldn't tell if it was from the sting of falling or from the poison oak. My good mood on this run was spoiled.
I was hoping that when I reached the bottom of the hill I would find another trailhead that would lead me back up to my car on the main trail, but instead I found myself in a church back yard. (Why is it that every property that borders the wild wilderness has abandoned Big Wheels rotting under the bushes at the edge of the property? Just an observation...). This meant that I was going to have to go back the way that I came, namely straight up.
I huffed up the hill mostly at a slow walk. At many points the hills were so steep that my GPS simply autopaused and wouldn't resume until I'd reached the top of the slope a few minutes later. If the ass rash and poison oak weren't enough to piss me off, the fact that I was walking something steep enough to make my hamstrings burn and my Achilles feel like they were going to burst and my effort wasn't even being recorded made me want to sit down in a poison oak patch and pout.
Nearly an hour after I'd started, I ran down the final slope to my car with only 3.25 mi on my watch. Had I had someone with me, then I would have laughed at my luck but being alone in a Claire's head can sometimes be a stormy place.
At one point I found myself standing at the top of what must have exceeded a 50% grade. It was only a short drop of about 30-50 feet, but the ground seemed to stop, and then start again about 5 yards away and two stories below me. BOMBS AWAY!!!! I got to the bottom of it with only a bit of knee soreness and quite a bit of embarrassing arm flapping, but I found my way to the bottom upright. Then I continued down the half overgrown trail.No more than a minute later, I hit another short dip -- the kind that makes your tummy drop out when you're skiing but that's over before you know it. I started down it hardly breaking stride, until my foot slipped. I tried to dig my heel into the dirt, but it all slid down the hill with me, just like in a cartoon. My ass hit the dirt, and then I just kept going I sledded down that hill on my ass, feeling my spanky shorts pull up the hip level. The loose dirt and gravel dug shallow stinging cuts up my right leg from my ankle to the fleshy center of my ass cheek.
I got up more angry than hurt and no more than a minute later the trail was swallowed by a clump of overgrown poison oak, or what I think is poison oak but could very well be dingleberry bushes for all I know. I picked my way through the plants very carefully in my short shorts and ankle biter socks, and thought I got to the other side safely, but there were two whip-like spots on my ankles that burned and I couldn't tell if it was from the sting of falling or from the poison oak. My good mood on this run was spoiled.I was hoping that when I reached the bottom of the hill I would find another trailhead that would lead me back up to my car on the main trail, but instead I found myself in a church back yard. (Why is it that every property that borders the wild wilderness has abandoned Big Wheels rotting under the bushes at the edge of the property? Just an observation...). This meant that I was going to have to go back the way that I came, namely straight up.
I huffed up the hill mostly at a slow walk. At many points the hills were so steep that my GPS simply autopaused and wouldn't resume until I'd reached the top of the slope a few minutes later. If the ass rash and poison oak weren't enough to piss me off, the fact that I was walking something steep enough to make my hamstrings burn and my Achilles feel like they were going to burst and my effort wasn't even being recorded made me want to sit down in a poison oak patch and pout.Nearly an hour after I'd started, I ran down the final slope to my car with only 3.25 mi on my watch. Had I had someone with me, then I would have laughed at my luck but being alone in a Claire's head can sometimes be a stormy place.
Wednesday Run 3.7 mi, Spinning
There was no time to swim before my Spin class on Wednesday, but at least I could run. So I suited up, put on my racing flats (which are my only road running shoes these days) and hit the treadmill. I had enough time to run for about 5 miles, so I started at a comfortably hard pace and kept speeding up until I was running 7:30 miles at 0.5% grade (which is supposed to simulate running outside, right?). My legs were a bit cranky and I was flinging sweat onto treadmills 2 machines away, but my lungs and heart felt good.
Then, all of a sudden, I felt an old "problem" that I hadn't felt in a long, long time. The phantom poo! I have gotten quite good at running for long distances on the verge of a poo emergency, so I made myself finish at least a 5K. Then I tried slowing down to a warm-up pace to see if the prairie dog would crawl back into his den, but after another few minutes it was clear that some further action was required.
Leaving my water and towel on the soaked treadmill, I made a run for it. I dashed down the aisle between the treadmills and the wall of ellipticals that was blocking my path to the potty. I rounded the end of the ellipticals and all I had to do was go down about 5 machines and hang a right, go through a door, take another right, and it was the first door on the left. Suddenly a grandma pushing a stroller popped up in front of me. What was a stroller doing on the exercise floor?! I cut left, and granny
drifted left. I cut right, and granny drifted right. I tried to pass her to the outside on the turn, but the buggy made wide right turns. I tried to cut to the inside... Fucking Asian drivers! (I'm sorry, I hate racist statements like this, but every time I get stuck behind someone going 45 mph on the freeway, cut off by some dumbass, or someone almost hits me on my bike they're always either on their cell phone or Asian.) I had to get to the door before this stroller-pushing granny. Have you ever seen someone try to open a pull door with a stroller?! This could take hours! "Excuse me," I said, nearly elbowing her in the face as I passed. She smiled at me politely like I was just saying 'hello, how's your week going.' I sprinted through the door, holding it open just long enough for her to catch it with the front wheel of the stroller and finally made it to the bathroom. This poo was not a "phantom" poo at all, and I'd made it not a moment too soon.
Then, all of a sudden, I felt an old "problem" that I hadn't felt in a long, long time. The phantom poo! I have gotten quite good at running for long distances on the verge of a poo emergency, so I made myself finish at least a 5K. Then I tried slowing down to a warm-up pace to see if the prairie dog would crawl back into his den, but after another few minutes it was clear that some further action was required.Leaving my water and towel on the soaked treadmill, I made a run for it. I dashed down the aisle between the treadmills and the wall of ellipticals that was blocking my path to the potty. I rounded the end of the ellipticals and all I had to do was go down about 5 machines and hang a right, go through a door, take another right, and it was the first door on the left. Suddenly a grandma pushing a stroller popped up in front of me. What was a stroller doing on the exercise floor?! I cut left, and granny
drifted left. I cut right, and granny drifted right. I tried to pass her to the outside on the turn, but the buggy made wide right turns. I tried to cut to the inside... Fucking Asian drivers! (I'm sorry, I hate racist statements like this, but every time I get stuck behind someone going 45 mph on the freeway, cut off by some dumbass, or someone almost hits me on my bike they're always either on their cell phone or Asian.) I had to get to the door before this stroller-pushing granny. Have you ever seen someone try to open a pull door with a stroller?! This could take hours! "Excuse me," I said, nearly elbowing her in the face as I passed. She smiled at me politely like I was just saying 'hello, how's your week going.' I sprinted through the door, holding it open just long enough for her to catch it with the front wheel of the stroller and finally made it to the bathroom. This poo was not a "phantom" poo at all, and I'd made it not a moment too soon.Thursday: Swim 2700 yd, Spinning
Both this swim workout and the one earlier in the week involved some "fast" free. As someone who used to be able to swim a straight 2000 yards in 30 minutes (1:30 pace), I now struggle to hold 1:35's for straight 100's. It's sad and frustrating. And lonely.
Friday: Run 9 mi
After my kiester sledding incident on Tuesday, I wasn't too thrilled with the idea of exploring new trails and having to hike around through the poison oak, so I hit the one runable trail I know (actually not a trail at all, but the archaeological remains of the old Highway 1 when it went through the mountains rather than along the coast). This is a relatively mild climb, but it's relentless, sitting between about a 4 and 6% grade for two and a half miles. After about a mile of it the phantom poo problem was back, and I gave myself permission to walk for a few seconds every mile until I hit the top. At the top what I should have done was run downhill and let the sourness in my entrails sort itself out, but it was all too much. I reached the top and stood with hands on knees for a minute until the burning in my tummy subsided.
I've been running in one of the most beautiful places I've ever run, but these solo excursions were getting increasingly lonely. Over my shoulder I could see the carcass of a car far down the steep hillside left over from well before I was born. When I was in Phoenix, I'd told Flipper about these cars and he'd asked, "Why don't they pull them out with cranes?" Taking pictures with my phone to post them later on the internet was getting less and less satisfying. I really, really wanted someone to share this stuff with. I am always trying to get people to come out on a run with me: clients, other trainers, perfect strangers, I don't care. But no one will come with me. It's all very frustrating. Lonely, lonely, lonely Claire.
Saturday: Run 11.5 mi
Friday's run was so great that I decided to repeat it on Saturday. I knew this trail went all the way over the hill back to (the new) Highway 1 on the other side of the mountain, but I had always had to stop short and turn around before the end of the trail. I took my usual walking breaks on the way up, about one for every mile, and then I started down the other side. I passed all the usual landmarks where I'd had to turn around before: the 5-mile summit, the 6-mile sinkhole, the 9 mile glade of trees, and I just kept running. I could feel the air getting warmer, thicker, and more humid. Finally I passed the switchback that marked my turn-around for the 10-mile route and kept going. Only another half mile down the trail I found another house with another rotting hotwheels marking a fork in the trail, and a quarter mile later I hit Highway 1 and the ocean on the other side. I surprised myself by running the whole way back, despite the fact that I was woozy and starving after only drinking 8 oz of water for a 2 hour run.
Sunday: Trainer 2:20
I've been running in one of the most beautiful places I've ever run, but these solo excursions were getting increasingly lonely. Over my shoulder I could see the carcass of a car far down the steep hillside left over from well before I was born. When I was in Phoenix, I'd told Flipper about these cars and he'd asked, "Why don't they pull them out with cranes?" Taking pictures with my phone to post them later on the internet was getting less and less satisfying. I really, really wanted someone to share this stuff with. I am always trying to get people to come out on a run with me: clients, other trainers, perfect strangers, I don't care. But no one will come with me. It's all very frustrating. Lonely, lonely, lonely Claire.
Friday's run was so great that I decided to repeat it on Saturday. I knew this trail went all the way over the hill back to (the new) Highway 1 on the other side of the mountain, but I had always had to stop short and turn around before the end of the trail. I took my usual walking breaks on the way up, about one for every mile, and then I started down the other side. I passed all the usual landmarks where I'd had to turn around before: the 5-mile summit, the 6-mile sinkhole, the 9 mile glade of trees, and I just kept running. I could feel the air getting warmer, thicker, and more humid. Finally I passed the switchback that marked my turn-around for the 10-mile route and kept going. Only another half mile down the trail I found another house with another rotting hotwheels marking a fork in the trail, and a quarter mile later I hit Highway 1 and the ocean on the other side. I surprised myself by running the whole way back, despite the fact that I was woozy and starving after only drinking 8 oz of water for a 2 hour run.Sunday the torrential mist that characterizes mother nature's bad moods in these here parts was slumping down, so I set up the trainer in the garage. My motivation was somewhere between zero and negative two, and I was out of good watching on Hulu, so I grabbed a book. I should have ridden for 3 hours (at least) but I didn't. Sue me.
While I'm here, I'm going to give a plug to Matt Fitzgerald's Racing Weight
. I love how Fitzgerald's brain works, and this book is what I haven't known I was looking for for years. Not only does he answer a question that we all struggle with --how do you safely lose weight to optimize your power-to-weight ratio without compromising your training and performance?-- but he cites really interesting studies that I hadn't heard about in other books. I credit the final 2:19 minutes I spent on that bike to picking up Racing Weight rather than trying to finish Fit Soul, Fit Body
.
While I'm here, I'm going to give a plug to Matt Fitzgerald's Racing Weight
. I love how Fitzgerald's brain works, and this book is what I haven't known I was looking for for years. Not only does he answer a question that we all struggle with --how do you safely lose weight to optimize your power-to-weight ratio without compromising your training and performance?-- but he cites really interesting studies that I hadn't heard about in other books. I credit the final 2:19 minutes I spent on that bike to picking up Racing Weight rather than trying to finish Fit Soul, Fit Body.
3 comments:
I need to finally actually READ Racing Weight, after buying it over a year ago now!!!!!
Miss you.
i wish i could run those trails with you. or ride my MTB while you run. man it is fucking beautiful. asian drivers do suck. i remember that from when i was a messenger.
If I was there chica, I would go running with you. That sounds like a super cool run. Ass scrapes, poison oak, and all of it.
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