Running UK Style

I’m back! What a trip! I had very little time, so no blogging for me. I managed to fit in two really great runs. The first run was three days into the trip. I had been itching to run the whole day. The bus ride felt like it would never end. We arrived in Plymouth with a couple of hours of free time before dinner and drinks with our fellow travelers. The instant the bus stopped, I jumped out, grabbed my luggage and made a beeline for our room. I threw on my jogging clothes and headed out the door. We were staying right on the water front. It couldn’t have been a better location. I started at an easy pace, running along the cobblestone walkway along the harbor.

People greeted me with friendly smiles and waves. A couple of young men waved from their perch on a boat moored nearby. I felt exhilarated and a little nervous to be running in England. What if there were unspoken rules that I didn’t know? What if people didn’t run along the harbor like I was? After about half a mile, I just let all the worries go. I was in England, Plymouth of all places and I was going to have a great run.

Once I reached a dead end at one end of the harbor, I turned around and headed back. I continued past my hotel heading down to the other end of the water front. I ran past pubs with loud drunken singing and souvenir shops. I reached the Mayflower steps, where the pilgrims started their journey to the new world, my home. I felt like I was running through a movie, a place from the past.

Mayflower Steps

Finally, I reached the Royal Citadel, an old fort dating back to the 1660s and instead of turning back, I braved the steep incline and attacked it with vengeances. I was feeling good. It went up and up and up till I reached an expanse of green grass and some steps. I jogged up the steps, sucking air like crazy. I reached the top, finding the base of the ferris wheel that I had seen from a distance when we drove in and to my surprise, found several beautiful memorials to British naval history. At that time, I stopped my watch and took a breather, reading each plaque and enjoying the awesome view. The ferris wheel rotated slowly behind me as I took in the beauty of the moment.

When my breath was finally back under control I ran back down the hill, running into several other members of our tour group and encouraging them to venture up the path that I had just come down. It was a wonderful run.

The second run I did was half way through the trip. We drove into Aviemore Scotland after a long day on the bus. I’d been feeling the running itch for a couple days at that point, but hadn’t had the opportunity to bust out the running shoes. That night, LingGeek and I had decided to skip the sheep dog show and go ahead and make our way to the hotel. We explored Aviemore’s high street, which didn’t contain much before breaking off to head our separate ways. I’d already heard from our tour guide that there were some great running trails in the area, so I set out to find them.

 

I didn’t have much luck. I jogged around, trying to find the infamous trails and was just about to throw my hands up in defeat and do some street running when I jogged by a local fisherman. He waved me over, so I slowed down to chat. He told me right off that I looked lost, and I confirmed it. He had a wonderful Scottish accent and he must have noticed my own odd twang because he promptly asked me where I was from. When I told him California, he got excited, stating he knew where that was, “It’s in America” he stated proudly, I smiled in response.

When I travel, I love talking to locals, but I’m usually too shy to initiate it. The fisherman was easy to talk to and we discussed local running and the upcoming half marathon Aviemore was hosting in just two days. He pointed me in the right direction to the running path and I set off bidding him good bye and hoping he would still be there with his fishing pole when I jogged back by later.

The jogging paths where all they had promised to be and more. The path wound around a small loch, surrounded by trees. Smaller trails shot off, heading up the mountain and here and there were benches tucked in among the greenery. The area was quiet and peaceful. I jogged along the lower path, finding my rhythm and working out all the kinks and stiffness I’d developed from sitting on the bus for so many hours. I then ventured up the mountain paths, having to walk when it got too steep and exploring the new trails that split off. I discovered a second loch and took a breather, my breath puffing from my lungs as I looked over the still water. Scotland is a truly beautiful country.

 

I started running again, coming across a hiker and later a young man sitting along the trail, his back leaning against a tree, a beer in his hand and the expanse of the town far below. I slowed down to enjoy the view, but moved on, trying not to interrupt his moment of solitude. It started to sprinkle, the small drops feeling refreshing. I headed back down to the low path, wound my way around the loch a few more times. Somewhere along the way it dawned on me, I was in Scotland, Scotland! And I was running around a loch. Just how often in my life would I experience anything like this?!? Motivated by the thought, I did a few more laps before heading in.

Geek Girl and Her Nemesis

I overcame a wall yesterday, a big looming wall that seemed to mock me each time I approached it. Thirteen miles has been my nemesis this month. I have attempted it twice and failed miserably both times. The first time it was because I was attempting it too early in my training and the second time was because I was dangerously close to burnout. This week I set out with a mission, I would end my week with a thirteen mile run if it killed me! Ok not killed me, but maybe if it ran me into the ground… or something.

I set out more than a little anxious, the last two attempts flashing through my mind, but around mile two I was starting to get into my flow. I was feeling good and having a hard time keeping my pace under control. Around mile seven I reached LingGeek's neighborhood and I got a surge of excitement. When I started my marathon training I’d told her that “One day, one day I’ll be running out to your house.” Back then, one day had seemed so distant, like a dream you hope to one day accomplish but you’re never sure you will. In that moment, it really sunk in how far I had come. I was doing it, I had done it! I wanted to shout, I wanted to sing, and instead I just smiled widely and greeted passer-byers a little more vigorously. I road the wave all the way home, breaking the thirteen mile wall and accomplishing 13.67 miles for a new PR.

Which brings me to another running rule I have, celebrate each new accomplishment. If you focus too much on the big picture, you miss the journey. Every new PR, time or distance, deserves a victory dance. Don’t compare your accomplishments to others. So what if Mary Sue has been running as long as you and has already run three marathons, she’s not you. Her journey was different and just as precious, but this is your experience and you only get to live it once. Be the running freak that smiles through each mile and waves at each person you pass, throw your arms in the air, or bust out a move when you’re done. If you don’t make running fun, what’s the point in doing it?

The Girl with the Plan

Yay, I had a great eight miler today at a nice easy pace. I couldn’t have been more in the groove! The weather was wonderful and everyone I passed either smiled or waved. It was just one of those runs that I really treasure.

So where am I at and what are my goals? I am currently training for the Arizona Rock’n’Roll marathon which will be my very first! I'm a marathon virgin. I started running again this year in February and got the crazy idea in my head that I wanted to do a marathon, so I started training in May. Since that time, I also decided to do a half marathon in December (good practice for the full). I’m a big fan of themed runs, so the one in December is the Santa to the Sea in Oxnard California.

A few weeks ago I was offered a spot on my company’s relay team for the Santa Barbara marathon and I jumped at the chance to join in on the fun. Since then, I’ve come to my senses and realized I need to do some speed work (I don’t want to let the team down!), so I’ve just added some fartleks and tempo runs to my schedule. I probably bit off more than I can chew, but I’ll love every minute of it.

I currently run four days a week. I was doing five days a week when I first started, but my body was telling me it was too much, so I cut it back and I have really benefited from the change. Monday is my tempo run or fartleks. I go 3 to 4.5 miles on Monday, depending on how I’m feeling that day. Tuesday is a rest day. Sometimes I’ll throw in 30 to 45 minutes on the bike. Wednesday is one of my long days. Today (Wednesday) I went just over 8 miles and I try to increase the distance around a quarter to half a mile each week. It’s usually an easy pace, similar to what I’m aiming to do in the marathon. Thursday is another rest day with possibly some bike. Friday is an easy three miles and Saturday is my second long day. Unlike Wednesday, Saturday is an interval run. I run eights and twos. So I run eight minutes, walk two minutes, run eight, walk two, etc. I’ve built up to 12 miles on my Saturday run and I try to increase about 3/4's of a mile each week. Sunday is a total rest day, nothing extra thrown in (most of the time). My goal is to have every third to fourth week be an easy week to help keep me from overtraining, but sometimes I get too eager for my own good and don’t take the rest.

So far, my training has been going pretty good. The only problems I run into (no pun intended) is when I try to push myself too far too fast or smash my toe in the door. Hopefully I can keep myself under control and make it to the marathon without anymore mishaps!

Watch Out for Toes

Well, I made another newbie mistake this week. I thought I had just about made all the silly mistakes a new runner could make, but apparently I was wrong. I now have a new rule to add to my list: “Take care of your feet”.

Let me explain what happened. After an easy 5k on Tuesday, I was hanging around the house walking barefoot… can you see where this is going? I went to take out the trash and somehow in the most uncoordinated or as my best friend says “very talented” way, I managed to catch my middle toe in the door, smashing it and ripping up the toenail. It was a bizarre moment of shock and searing pain. Blood was dripping everywhere and all I could do was pray my toe wasn’t broken. I thought for sure I was going to find a bone sticking out of my skin with how much blood and pain there was, but it was all because of the displaced toenail (I now understand why ripping up nails is used as a means of torture).

I ended up having to take two runs off, explain a very embarrassing story multiple times and I’ve got a lovely bloody spot on my socks when I do run, but thankfully it’s not broken and I wasn’t benched for longer. So the moral of the story is, when you are in training, don’t walk around barefoot and it’s probably best to leave the flip flops in the closet for awhile.

On a side note, how about that Doctor Who episode yesterday?!?