Important running question

If you pass gas on a run, and you’re wearing headphones, does it really make a sound?

The joints are better at 41

I logged a ton of miles back in the mid- to late 1980s – roughly 3-5 miles a day, 5-6 days a week. Even at age 18, that’s hard on the joints. My ankles often ached, as did my knees. Morning-time stiffness often brought out the giggles from dorm-mates watching me hobble to the showers.

Twenty-some years later – and 20-some pounds heavier, I might add -running isn’t taking quite the same toll. Still got the same knees, same ankles, same awkward gait as before. Maybe it was reading Edmund Spenser’s “The Faerie Queene” that made my body ache.

Anyway, I credit my lack o’ pain to the run-walk method. Jeff Galloway  says you can actually improve your time this way: “Walk breaks will significantly speed up recovery because there is less damage to repair. The early walk breaks erase fatigue, and the later walk breaks will reduce or eliminate overuse muscle breakdown.”

This is Galloway’s formula for the run-to-walk ratio, which I find too restrictive. I’ve developed my own. It’s called the ”OK, you can walk for a few seconds when you get to that tree” method. Haven’t measured my running or walking stretches, though this one has asked me to. I’d guess 5 min run/30-60 secs walk.

Whatever I’m doing seems to be working. I’m ending runs feeling as though I could continue, and I’m only mildly achy in the breaky when I stop. And yeah, I do sound like the Skipper when I stand up (“Oooof!”), but that’s probably from the strength training, again the fault result of this one.

Besides, it’s good for the ego. How many people my age hurt less running than they did 25 years ago?

Thanks a lot, Gilligan

RUNNING REPORT

Number of runs this week: 4

Total miles: 13.5

Longest run: 4.5 miles

Aches and pains: Surprisingly few, though I do sound like the Skipper every time I stand up. Ooooof.

Highlight of the week: A particularly wonderful stretch Saturday on the Lake Brandt Greenway. Cool breeze, The Raconteurs singing in my ears, nary a soul in sight. Felt like I was the only person on the planet.

Lowlight of the week: Being outrun by a couple of four-year-old girls on the indoor track at the Y.

Most coveted running gadget: A hand-held clicker that will track my indoor laps. And perhaps a water gun to take out those swift-footed girlies.

Days until half-marathon: 119

Half-marathon outlook: Guardedly optimistic. Today’s the first day this thing has felt possible. The last month of running has allowed for astronomical improvements in my speed, my endurance and – I must be getting soft to admit this – my attitude. I no longer always feel like an interloper in some exclusive running club. I just feel that way some of the time. And that’s an improvement. Or maybe that’s the endorphins talking.

Speaking of time management …

… get a load of the comments underneath this post on the Runner’s World Web site. Give. Me. A. Break. Are these people for real? Or is the magazine in cahoots with the multi-national running conglomerate (aka, The Running Machine) to make us think such acts are of this world?

My favorite comment comes from, allegedly, Kevin: ”Monday – Thursday I wake up at 4 AM, get dressed, pack lunches for myself, wife, and son and get in the car by 4:20-4:30. I have a 35 mile commute to the office where I go to the locker room/gym. …  Monday/Wednesday I stretch after my run and Tuesday/Thursday I do my core work.”

Look, that’s great. Really. Congrats, St. Kevin, on your upcoming canonization. But I’m already scamming ways to sleep in tomorrow and push my run into the late, late, late afternoon. The plan involves leaving work, returning a hot mess and furrowing my brow at any coworker who dares note it. Yeah. I get it. I’m discombobulated. Go find Kevin and climb Everest.

Here comes just another day that’s drifting away

Running sucks time. It cannot be measured simply by the number of minutes your feet are hitting the pavement. There is drive time (to a path away from traffic), warm up/cool down time (not that I actually do that), equipment set-up time (dork) and the always necessary post-run water gulping time. My 46 minute run today actually ate up about 1 hour 20 minutes. That’s a sizable chunk of time.

There’s more. I spend two hours each week in core strengthening classes designed to make me run better. I try to play tennis (badly) as a kind of cross-training. Yoga for runners? Brother, please.

Factor in the healthy eating I’m doing – only whole grains, fruits and vegetables, and all that crap. It’s not easy to blend nutrition and convenience, so rounding up supplies is like putting time in a paper shredder. Also: I must make playlists for the runs, keep cold-season, layer-friendly running clothes washed and plan my runs around unpredictable weather.

How do people do it?

Time management isn’t my forte. As I’ve said before, I’m naturally lazy, a time-waster, someone easily distracted by opportunities for fun and inactivity. Housekeeping isn’t a priority. Chores? What chores? Sometimes I feel like I live in a Holiday Inn. I leave the house noting a toilet that could use some tidying and – poof! – when I return, it’s clean. I dirty dishes on a regular basis, but that’s my last contact with them until I need one again. And that’s was BEFORE I started running so much.

My intent is to buckle down and make better use of my time. While training for a half-marathon. And being tired all the time. Yeah – I’ll get right on that, just after this episode of Law & Order is over.

A self-posed running quiz

What is your name? Margaret Banks

What is your running goal? To finish the half-marathon portion of the N.C. Marathon, March 20, 2010 with enough energy left over to make it back to the car.

When did you first start running? When I was 18 and a freshman at UNCG. I quit running in my early 20s. I picked it up again in mid-2008.

Huh. That’s a pretty big gap, considering how old you are now. Bite me.

What Bob Dylan song best describes your running style? In Search of Little Sadie. “I made a good run, but I ran too slow.”

Who would you most like to run with? Is John Cusack a runner?

We don’t know, but Viggo Mortensen probably is. He’ll do.

How about you pick someone real. OK, then. My friend Revis. We run well together.

Doesn’t another of your high school friends run? Yes. Beth finished 117th in her age division at the Richmond Marathon on Saturday. Wilkes County representing!

What was the most annoying part of your run on Saturday? The two dudes on Chestnut – at different houses – who didn’t stop using their leaf blowers as I passed. Nice. Exhaust fumes in my lungs AND stems in my hair.

What was your favorite part? Runs don’t have a favorite part.

When do you run again? Approximately 14 hours from now. Not that I’m counting.

You don’t seem to like running. Then why the hell are you training for a half-marathon? So I’ll have to quit doubting myself. If I can pull this off, then other things that seem impossible to me will be within my grasp.

I won the race today!

OK, not really. Didn’t even go to the Free to Breathe 5K at Grandover today. Hey, wait. Are you judging me? Jerk. You’re going to feel really bad by the end of this post.

On Friday night, the good folks at Off ‘n Running couldn’t find my registration. Somehow, I actualized myself signing up for the race, but never actually did it. Whoops. My bad.

Yes, I could have registered on-site this morning. But the thought of schlepping out to Grandover at 8 a.m. to register – and waiting in a huge line with a bunch of fitniks – turned my stomach worse than seeing Grandpa Moffett’s teeth in a bowl. So I slept in.

And then I ran. By myself, sans timing chip and scores of amped up 50-year-old men. Did 4 miles, too - more than the measly 3.1 I would have pulled at Grandover.

It’s true: I didn’t run the race. Mean Margaret would like to punish me for days over that. But I didn’t let my little brain fart hijack my training plan. In fact, I looked that training plan square in the peepers and said, “You don’t scare me, training plan.” And then I flipped off the running plan, put on my shoes and started running. Guess I really did kinda, sorta, in a strange way win today.

So readers, judge me if you must. I can withstand your scrutiny.

I’m not lazy. It’s called tapering.

Next week begins a new phase of my training: I’ll run four days a week instead of just three. That may not sound significant, but it will add anywhere from 3 to 6 miles to my weekly total. It’s big mileage for me, though, especially once I start pulling 9, 10 and even 11 miles on long-run days.

This week? Not so much. I’m running Saturday in the Free to Breathe 5K, so I get to “taper” this week. That’s what runners do when they don’t run. They are saving their strength for a race. It’s my favorite type of running, actually – the taper.

Anyway, Saturday will just be my second run this week. God bless you, taper. Gives my muscles a chance to mend. Unfortunately, the next taper won’t come until after the half-marathon.

 

Me being a masochist, I keep going back for more

Liz Lindsay. The reason my hamstrings ache. The reason it hurts to raise my arms above my head tonight. And, in her defense, the reason I gave this wacky half-marathon idea a serious look-see.

Liz is the brains (and brawn) behind Janes on the Run (www.janesontherun.com), an all-girl running group here in Greensboro. She is our coach, our drill sergeant and Motivator-in-Chief.  One look askance from her in a Tone Zone class and you WILL tuck in that butt and draw belly button to spine.

In May 2008, I signed up for one of her boot camps – a month-long, four-day-a-week exercise in sad0machism. Upon hearing the activities she had planned on the first day – an “easy,” one-mile timed run after 30 minutes of hard resistance work – and I just about got back in my car and high-tailed it out of Country Park.

But she looked at me and said, “You can do this.” It wasn’t one of those fake-cheerful shouts of encouragement you get from people who have read all the motivational cliches in Self magazine. This was real. “You can do this.” Slow, simple, direct.

So I did. And thanks to her, I’ve been doing it on a regular basis for the past 18 months.

Liz, pictured here demonstrating her methods of torture

Like all great leaders, Liz motivates me by tapping in to my core. She tells me I’m strong. She tells me I have worked hard. She tells me seemingly impossible things are actually within my reach, if only I devote myself to getting there. She makes no promise it will be easy. That’s part of the appeal. 

Last month, she told me she is in charge of all the training schools for the N.C. Marathon, including the half-marathon. That’s when it hit me:

I can do this.

Video killed the radio star

This week’s runs were hard. Really hard. I’d be grooving along to, say, The White Stripes or Dr. John – thanks to the iPod function on my iPhone. And every time the lady from my new GPS-powered running program interrupted the song to report my mileage … the distance wouldn’t seem nearly long enough. My Polar heart rate monitor was showing a normal-for-me pulse rate and calorie expenditure. But it felt like I’d been running for days. Not a good sign.

I ran in college. The Berlin Wall was still intact and Oprah had just gone national. Reagan and Gorby met in Iceland to discuss … eh, you get my point. I’m old. Anyway, I’d run six days a week, always along the same route: Through UNCG to Aycock, then on to Spring Garden, Joyner Street, Tate and McIver before returning to my dorm. It was just me, a pair of red sweats and some worn, gray Sauconys. No iPod, no heart rate monitor, not even a watch. How far would I go? Didn’t know; didn’t care. Sometimes I’d measure by retracing my route in my old blue Datsun 510 wagon.

It’s made me wonder: Has technology improved my runs? Granted, toys weren’t an option for runners back in the day. And at (just about) 42, it’s good to be able to measure something like the hardiness of the old ticker. But all my gadgets might be getting between me and the solitude I used to enjoy. The rhythm of my breath, the sound of my feet hitting asphalt … it was a form of meditation. I might know my pace per minute and average heart rate per mile these days, but might I be missing out on each run’s healthiest aspect: inner peace?

About that tiredness: When I got home and synched my iPhone with Run Tracker, I realized the GPS dropped during portions of my runs. Turns out that every day last week, I ran a half-mile to a mile longer than I had realized. No wonder I was tired. So much for technology.