Fall Training: Week 6

09fall-training-06Here we are at the halfway point already. I’ve got just six weeks of serious training left before going into a two week taper. Last week I hit 90 miles again after three weeks of running mileage much lower than that.

The first surprise was getting up on Monday morning and feeling surprisingly nimble considering the hard half marathon on Sunday. Then my legs seemed to get stiffer and stiffer as the day wore on. A warm bath helped, as well as some time with the foam roller.

I ran Tuesday’s “recovereasy” run at a very light effort, not even at 70%. I knew this was going to be a huge week in terms of challenging runs, plus I was going in with a recovery deficit from the race. So I decided to be conservative even though my legs still felt pretty good.

I took my tempo miles to the track and had another good session. I had no problem sustaining 89-90% for five miles and in fact could have run another mile had I wanted to. But I didn’t. I will note that the moment I stopped running, my legs started stiffening up again. The 1.75 run home was actually sort of painful. Was that still Sunday’s race lingering in my legs?

Thursday was a tough day, as it usually is. By this stage of the week I’m worn down from one or two harder workouts plus I have to run fairly big mileage this day. Since the weather was going to force me inside for the evening run I decide to do the strides in the morning. I’ve had a bad habit of skipping strides, but I felt just good enough to do them on Thursday. I did seven rather than the planned eight (miscounted).

Friday was another of my Frankenworkouts: a long run at recovery pace plus some faster intervals and short rests. I had issues with my HRM acting oddly again, and as a result I probably ran these a might too fast. Looking on the bright side, though, I’ve definitely got my speed back. I ran one repeat at 6:07 pace, which is quick for me. I couldn’t even get below 6:30 pace for a stride a few months ago when I was starting on the iron and D supps.

Saturday were two blah runs. Just getting in the miles. I crawled along at very low heart rates in order to get ready for…

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! This was the run I’d been saving myself for all week. A big 22 mile run with some elbow grease applied. The weather was atrocious, as we had the first Noreaster of the season moving through NY. But it didn’t seemed quite bad enough to take things inside on the treadmill. Some part of me believes that training in less than ideal conditions is a good mental exercise anyway. You never know what you’ll get on race day and if you’ve done some hard runs in wind and rain that offers some psychological innoculation against at least that aspect of pre-race freakouts.

I decided to do this run in Central Park. I like running the hills (I know; I’m weird that way). And since it’s a multiple loop course, if the weather turns truly foul I can always cut it short and come home. I can’t do that if I’m 10 miles away from home in Valhalla when the downpour starts.

The assignment was to run the first 12 at 75% MHR, then step up to 80% for the final 10. When I started my run the rain was steady but not terrible. I ran the first 6 in a t-shirt, long sleeve and “water resistant” jacket, plus gloves and a waterproof hat. I was soon boiling, so had to run back to the car on Columbus Ave. for a costume change. I took off my hat and my hair was soaked not from rain but from sweat.

I swapped the outer layers and ended up with the t-shirt and a very light fleece with zip up collar. Dumped the gloves and hat. Kept the tights as I was not about to pull my pants down in the middle of Manhattan (those days are long over!). Now I was ready to roll. The rain remained steady, but there were a few windows of 20 minutes or so when it turned to a mere drizzle. It was actually nearly perfect running weather, but for the wind.

While I was there I discovered a large walk for breast cancer — about 5,000 people according to the news accounts. I’m glad the park can play host to such events but I wish the marshalls would clue participants in to the fact that there are other people using the park. The walkers took up the entire roadway in some sections, so I had to hop up on curbs or take the pedestrian path (to the annoyance of regular park patrons) to get around them. Fortunately, they were done by around 11:15 and I just had 45 minutes or so of faster running by then.

The run was not easy, but it wasn’t particularly difficult either. If anything, I had trouble keeping the effort low for the first twelve. I was more in the 77-78% range for a lot of those miles, probably due to the hills and wind. I was up near 80% a mile early and drifted into the 81% range for a lot of the later miles. I only started really feeling the effort in the last three miles and in some ways the challenge was as much in the mental realm as it was in the physical one. I finished up with a faster last half mile in the 85% range and was done! Total time: just over 3:10 for 22.14 miles. I like to do a 22 miler in the 3:00-3:10 range, so I was happy with this time considering the awful conditions and tough course.

I’m a little shocked that I could do this run after a Sunday race followed by a big mileage week, but there you have it. This has me feeling pretty good about what I can accomplish in the coming weeks. I’ll hit 95 this week, which includes four days of doubles and a “sandwich run” on Sunday, again in Central Park with the Marathon Kickoff 5 miler.

Sometimes you can’t trust your heart (rate monitor)

Yesterday I went to the track in the morning to do some fast repeats. The scheduled called for 5 x 2:30 at 92% MHR with 1 minute rests. I ran a faster half mile to get my legs ready and proceeded to launch into the first repeat. I was running hard, breathing hard, but my HR was dawdling along at 86%. So I ran faster and harder, cutting the first repeat short at 1:44 when my lungs gave out. The HRM said I was at 88%.

Mystified, I ran my 1 minute jog and then tried again. Same thing. I jogged some more and thought about it. What was going on? Were my legs too tired to get myself going fast enough to get my HR up into the low 90%s? Was I glycogen depleted? Was the dreaded iron deficiency issue back? Why were my lungs giving out before my heart and legs?

I tried another and the same thing happened again. This was getting silly. Finally, on the fourth lap it occurred to me to look at my pace. I was running 6:18 pace. Aha. The HRM was bullshitting me again. Now I figured I’d been running these in the mid-90%s (which would explain why I was getting breathless before the 2+ minute mark). So I ran a few more quick ones and learned another lesson: don’t over rely on technology. I knew I was working hard and running fast. I should have trusted those perceptions over what the watch was telling me.

Review: Nike Lunar Trainer

Short review: I hate these shoes! I have never actually hated a running shoe until these showed up on my doorstep.

They feel mushy and cheaply made. Also, the outsole flares out in such as way that it actually makes running feel awkward. And there are no extra eyelets to lock the laces in place. I’m sure there’s a lot of other things wrong with these, but I haven’t run in them enough to discover them.

Jonathan, however, loves the Lunar Trainer. Go figure.

Review: Pearl Izumi Peak XC

A few months back, on a lark, I sent a note to Pearl Izumi and told them how much I loved the Streak, their road racing shoe. In the process, I asked if they’d be willing to send me any other shoes to try, with the promise that I’d do a review on this blog. To my delight, they responded with an offer to send me the Peak XC, which is basically their trail running version of the Streak.

I did a few long runs in the Peak XC, but didn’t feel comfortable doing a review until I’d put it through its paces in a wider range of running environments. My recent trip to South Africa provided the perfect opportunity to evaluate this shoe.

I only wanted to bring two pairs of running shoes (I know — this is one pair more than most people would pack!): the Saucony Fastwitch 3 for racing a half and something else for everyday training. Where I was going, the only paved roads were the major highways. Everything else consisted of dirt, clay (or mud on some days) or gravel. Perfect conditions for a trail running shoe.

From what I can tell, the Peak XC is nearly identical to the Streak in construction and fit, with a few differences. While it weighs the same as the Streak (very light, at just over 7 oz. in women’s size 7), the midsole seems slightly thicker, the better to protect your soles from rocks, roots and other potentially painful foes. The outsole is also slightly more robust, with more pronounced treads for better traction; I’d swear that the outsole also feels “grippier” on slick pavement, but that may just be my imagination, as I don’t know how they’d do that. By comparison, the Streak has nearly no tread — it’s literally a “flat” in that regard.

I did a lot of running in rough conditions: roads that consisted of packed mud, very gravelly roads and in extreme heat. The shoes were perfect for all three. On mud, they were reasonably stable despite some very slippery spots. On gravel, they made my feet impervious to the surface, even when running hard. I could run on 1-2″ rocks and not really feel them. And in the heat, my feet stayed cool thanks to the perforated upper throughout. I should also add that they performed like champs on hills. I had enough traction to climb, and the shoes were roomy enough in the toebox to save my toenails on the downhills.

Speaking of the upper, this is the aspect of the Streak that made me fall in love with the shoe. Pearl Izumi touts its “seamless upper” on the Streak and Peak shoes. These shoes fit like a glove with no seams to rub anywhere. They are sold as a neutral shoe, although I’m neutral with some slight pronation and they are suitable for me. They feel responsive when running at all speeds: good ground contact, lots of flexibility, bouncy toe off. They are also durable. I’m on my fourth pair of Streaks and all have lasted 300 miles before feeling dull. That’s pretty good for such a lightweight shoe. I typically need to retire shoes in the sub-8 oz. range around the 250 mile mark.

I should note that I’ve done 22 mile runs in these on pavement and I did an 18 miler on dirt/gravel. In both cases, they held up well and didn’t cause the kind of fatigue you might risk experiencing by doing a long training run in what’s billed as a racing shoe.

One important tip on the Streaks and the Peaks: These run exceptionally small. I normally wear a size 8 in running shoes, with some exceptions (Saucony Grid Tangent 3 and Adidas Adizero Ace) in which I have to size down to my regular 7.5 shoe size. In the Pearl Izumis I need an 8.5.

Finally, I’ll add that these shoes are versatile. I went on a 9 mile hike in them over rocky/sandy trail. True, they can’t replace hiking boots for seriously “technical” hiking due to the lack of ankle protection, but the same can be said of my “dayhike” shoes. Those are waterproof, so I’d still use them for rainy day hikes. But for sunny days I’ll wear the Peak XCs. They’re lightweight, sturdy, have adequate toe protection and as such are perfect for mixing walking with running on the trail.

Since I’m mentioning Pearl Izumi, I’ll also put in a good word for a model of shorts they make, the 42K short. [Edited: Tracy has astutely pointed out that the 42K shorts are made by Sugoi, not Pearl Izumi. Either way, they’re damned good shorts.] These are split shorts for racing, but they are so comfortable that I’ve started running in them exclusively. Although they’re splits they have enough material to be reasonably modest. The exception is when it’s very windy, in which case I may as well be wearing bun huggers, as the leg material blows up a la Marilyn Monroe and nothing is left to the imagination. They have a low waist with a drawstring that’s long enough not to get lost.

The best aspect of these shorts are the velcro-tabbed side pockets, which can hold gels. I modified my pockets by sewing up the bottom part of the pocket, just below the velcro tab. I found that gels could fall out otherwise. Now I can carry four gels easily, which is usually what I use in a full marathon.

As always happens, Pearl Izumi Sugoi has discontinued the 42k short. So I’m now hoarding them.

Fall Training: Week 5

09fall-training-05Having recovered from the difficult previous week, I decided to have another go at running some miles at marathon effort before leaving South Africa. This run went much better than Friday’s semi-disaster, as it was again in the low 60s and the sun was behind the clouds.

Despite a weekend of drinking, staying up late and stuffing myself, I felt pretty good for this run. Although I have to admit that I was looking forward to getting home and swearing off shortbread biscuits, chocolate and buckets of wine and beer. At least until after I run CIM in December.

Tuesday and Wednesday were consumed with getting home and getting ready for my reentry into work and serious training again.

I guess I managed to kill a few brain cells with all that fabulous local wine and beer because on Thursday I went out and hammered a workout that was supposed to be on the easy side. My Thursday speed session should have been run at recovery pace, with the exception of the 8:00 at speedy effort. Instead, I ran the whole thing at moderate-to-hard effort. My legs felt great and I just forgot that I wasn’t supposed to run this hard for these workouts.

Not surprisingly, I was tired on the subsequent recovery runs. I cut the Saturday run short by a mile and ran it at a slow jog pace to try to save my legs for Sunday’s race.

I went into the Westchester Half on Sunday expecting…well, not really expecting anything. I didn’t know if I’d do badly, well, or somewhere inbetween. As it turns out, I did very well under the circumstances. Maybe those lighter mileage weeks gave me the rest I needed to race well. Or maybe it was the wine, chocolate and beer.

Between this and the Whale half, I’m feeling good about my current level of fitness. The next few weeks of training — under what I hope will be healthier, more amenable conditions — should yield more clues as to where I am.

Fall Training: Weeks 3 and 4

09fall-training-03The next couple of training logs are more for the record than for extensive analysis. I knew my training would be compromised  on the trip to South Africa. Doesn’t that make me sound humorless and obsessed? I know!

If anything, I’m amazed that I managed to run as much as I did, considering that I was drinking to excess nearly every night and part of coordinated holiday movements of six people. Although my mileage was roughly half of the planned mileage for these weeks, I did prioritize the harder miles and dumped recovery miles.

The conditions in South Africa were tough. For one, it was windy to extremely windy most days. I did some of my harder runs into a 15-30mph headwind and the paces reflect that invisible resistance.

Also, as they’re between winter and spring at the moment, the temperatures and humidity swung wildly every few days. One day it would be in the 60s and two days later it was in the 80s. And the sun there is hot. I’m sure that sounds silly, but the proximity to the equator really makes you feel like you’re baking, and I tanned three shades darker in just a week.

Finally, the place has huge hills. If you want to train for Boston or Steamtown, this is the place to go. The hills are up to a mile long and, while the grades aren’t extreme, they are steady.

Week 3 was broken up with travel. Prior to flying there on Wednesday, I did a 15 mile progression run. This went very well. As usual, I wasn’t thrilled with the paces, but I realized I had weeks of training to improve.

Later in the week I focused on trying to recover from 36 hours of travel and some upheaval as we had to suddenly change rental cottages, as the first was next to a grocery store with loud refrigeration units running all night; in the second cottage we would be burgled as the next week’s excitement. Anyway, on Friday we drove 45 minutes to Hermanus on the coast and ran the last three-odd miles of the half marathon course, then had an early dinner out among the Whale Festival revelers.

Saturday was the race, the Whale Half Marathon. A joke race, as Jonathan called it. Despite insane wind and huge hills, we both did well.

On Sunday I went for a little recovery run on my own, during which I met the second love of my life, a female dog named Harvey.

09fall-training-04Week 4 featured some harder efforts, the first of which was an 11 mile tempo run, with the harder miles run straight into a stiff headwind. The next day we went on a 9 mile hike, which was tiring not so much because of the distance or terrain but because of the speed at which we were going. We were hiking very slowly, probably at about half the pace that we could have managed on our own, and by the end of the day I had what felt like “museum legs” — that unique sort of fatigue that sets in after hours of strolling around on marble floors.

We took the next day off to deal with the aftermath of having been burgled and getting our car stolen the evening after the hike. We also needed to get ready for the arrival of two friends of Jonathan’s from his days living here 30 years ago who’d be staying with us for two nights.

The morning before their arrival we went out to do one of my more important workouts — a 21 miler with the last 10 at marathon effort. This was one of the few workouts I’ve actually had to abandon. It was a hot day and we had no way of carrying or obtaining drinkable water, plus we got a late start. By midway through the run the sun was at its strongest and it was about 85 degrees. There was no shade. I did okay for most of the hard miles, but by mile 16 my HR was soaring and my paces were dropping off. Then I started exhibiting the early stages of heat illness with just three miles to go.

I ended up lying under a tree while Jonathan ran back to the cottage (he’d been running an easy pace to my very hard pace) for the car and water. It was the smart thing to do, but a little scary. I was mad at myself because my instincts had told me that we should take the extra half hour to drive to the midway point with some water, but I ignored them.

I was totally fried by this workout for the next couple days, so took the weekend off. We still had several days of holiday making left and I wanted to enjoy the time with family and friends. I had one last hard workout planned before leaving the following week.

Race Report: 2009 Westchester Half

Short report since work is nuts, I have lots of training logs to catch up on, and I have to run 90 miles this week (eek).

Like the Whale Half in South Africa two weeks ago, I came into this race with an open mind and no real expectations. But unlike that race, the conditions were near perfect, with a starting temperature of around 48 degrees and almost no wind until the last few miles. True, the course is hilly, but not as bad as what I faced in South Africa. Plus I was familiar with the course, so I could come up with something resembling a pacing strategy.

I tried three new things in this race. I know you’re never supposed to try new things in a race, but this wasn’t an important race for me, so what the hell. The three experiments were:

  • Shoes: I wore my new pair of Adidas Adizero Ace’s (with only 8 miles on them), just to see how they compare to the Saucony Fastwitch 3’s for racing. They were great racing shoes and I’ll wear them again in my next few races. I’m not sure how they’d hold up over the marathon distance, but I plan to try them on a 22 miler this Sunday in Central Park to see.
  • Warmup: I tried a new warmup routine, a modified version of what’s discussed in this online article in Running Times. While I didn’t follow it to the letter (it was for a 5K anyway), I used the principles: a solid block of very easy running, followed by some active stretching and skipping, topped off with some short intervals at close to race pace.
  • Mental approach: I dumped the data, at least during the race. Meaning I decided not to look at my watch and run completely by feel. Although I was 3.5 minutes off my PB for the half, this was a very successful race and I suspect that this data-free approach had a lot to do with that.

Why was I 3.5 minutes off my best? I chalk it up to several factors:

  • Course: My best half was run on the nearly pancake flat Long Branch Half Marathon course. The Westchester course has significant hills throughout the race.
  • Training cycle: I’m in the middle of a marathon training cycle. When I ran my best in NJ, I’d had over a month of rest after a good full marathon race.
  • Jetlag/stress: I got home on Wednesday afternoon after close to 30 hours of travel on two flights. On subsequent nights I was sleep-deprived. We also had to deal with the burglary/rental car damage in the last few days of the trip and that caused a lot of mental stress.
  • Terrible nutrition: I’d spent the past 2+ weeks eating garbage and drinking like a fish.
  • Weight: I gained about three pounds while on vacation. So I guess I was literally hauling ass during this race.
  • Lack of recovery: Thursday featured a run that was supposed to be 8 miles at 70% MHR with four 2:00 repeats at 91-92% and 2:00 rests. Instead, I ran an average effort well into the low 80% range and only did 1:00 rests between repeats. Not until I got home did I realize my error. So my legs were still somewhat tired going into Sunday.

All things considered, this was another good race. Unfortunately, as with the Whale Half late last month, lots of factors conspired to obscure the quality of my performance. But I feel good about both races.

The Westchester course featured a steady climb in the first mile, and two other notable hills in subsequent miles, but the first half is a net downhill drop. That means the way back is uphill. So I reserved energy in the first half and ran at a manageable pace.

During the first half, some people passed me and I passed other people. I was cruising along and not really worrying about what other people were doing. The pace was hard, but comfortable, a full breath every three steps. About a mile before the turnaround I spotted the leaders and was happy to see Jonathan in sixth. He held that position to the finish. Then I started counting boobs and by the time I hit the turnaround had figured out that I was in ninth. Suddenly, I cared more about this race.

So I made a deal that I would do my best to work my way up to fifth, but exercise enough control that I wouldn’t kill myself in the next few miles only to fade in the last two. I easily passed the first woman in my sights, who was fading fast anyway. The next one was tougher, although I surged by her as she slowed at a water stop and that seemed to work. I spotted the next just beyond the 9 mile mark, right before a big hill. She was holding her pace on the hill so I thought it would be foolish to try to pass her then (especially since I’ve done no hill training). As we crested the hill, a friend of hers on the sideline yelled, “Go, Mary! There’s someone right behind you.”

I wanted to ask her friend, “How old is Mary?” but I didn’t. Instead, I felt slightly annoyed that my cover had been blown. But it was a great motivator. So I followed Mary down the hill and recovered over the next few hundred yards. Then I decided to try a longer surge on the flat bit that was coming up. So I passed her “decisively” (as they say in strategy articles) and held a pace of about 20 seconds per mile faster than she was running for a good quarter mile, then picked up the pace again on subsequent downhills. She came in a minute behind me, so I guess this was the right thing to do.

After that, the only other woman I saw was blowing her Wheaties just past mile 11 (isn’t racing fun?). I thought she was the leader at the time, but now I realize she wasn’t. She may have been a quarter marathon runner (we bumped into them on the way back), but I don’t know. But for a good couple of miles I was convinced I had fifth place, and it was a good feeling to know I did everything I could to move up. [Updated: it turns out I did get fifth.]

The penultimate mile ends with a huge hill and I felt done at the time. But I managed to rally in the last mile and ran that one the fastest, a good 20+ seconds faster than the overall average pace for the race. This makes me wonder if I should have run the whole thing slightly faster if I had that much left.

I ended up with sixth fifth overall and first in the 40-49F age group, with a net time of 1:37:35. The woman I passed, Mary Fenton (2nd in our AG), came up and congratulated me, which I appreciated. The other funny thing was seeing a young woman win an age group award and go completely batshit with excitement. It was very endearing and a good reminder that I need to remember how hard it was to win awards until very recently. Jonathan won the 50-59M age group. We have matching ugly trophies, New Balance gift certificates and enough powdered Heed drink mix to poison a small cult.

Did I say this would be a short post?

Watching out for ticks and tik

Well, as suspected, my training has gone somewhat to hell since I’ve been here. I certainly am not running the miles planned, although I’ve made an effort to get the important workouts (or something resembling them) done.

On Tuesday we did a 14 miler along a dirt road called Riviersonderend, which translates roughly into “Endless River.” Since we are in such an isolated place and had to do different workouts, we spent some time beforehand planning how to ensure that we’d be within a mile or so of each other. Jonathan had to do 8 1K repeats and rests and some easy running. I had to do 5 tempo miles in a midlength effort. So we worked out a 7 mile out/7 mile back plan, where he’d eventually catch up to me and pass me coming and going, then I’d catch up to him and we’d run the last few miles together.

What we didn’t count on was another day of brutal headwinds and big hills. Worse, we were in full sun and it was warmer. So those 5 miles were tough and I was again glad to be training by effort rather than pace, since I was averaging 8:00 miles again. I have been told by the locals that a woman running alone is safe, and I have not doubted this while looping through the town, especially with my little borrowed Doberman at my side. Once out on deserted roads with only a farmhouse every few miles, I’ve not been so sure. But Tuesday was fine and the few interactions I did have were comfortable (although I did wonder why two boys who looked about 14 were driving a giant tractor).

Speaking of the Doberman, it seems the owners who were out of town are back and again properly caring for her, so I’ve not seen her wandering the neighborhood anymore. I may go ask if I can borrow her if I do another solo town run again.

The rest of the day was spent consuming recovery-friendly hot chocolate and quiche, followed by a stroll around nearby Genanendal, site of (again, this was what I was told) the oldest missionary settlement in Africa, in this case Moravians from the early 18th century. Something I really like about South Africa is that the flip side of its second-world flakiness is the flexibility that goes along with it. In Switzerland, if you turn up at a cafe at 3:58 and it’s closing at 4:00, they’ll turn you away. Here, they’ll serve you and tell you not to rush, and they really mean it. Or, another example: restaurants often run out of dishes (ask me about the pizzeria that, on a busy Saturday night, had to stop serving because they ran out of cheese!), but the ones they do serve can be out of this world, like the crackling pig I had last night.

Genanendal is also worth noting as we noted on Google Earth that it has a running track. Or, at least, it once had something resembling a running track. Now it’s a molehill-pocked, overgrown loop surrounding a slightly less ratty rugby field, populated with wild dogs. We decided not to run there, despite my being innoculated against rabies.

Next up on the itinerary was a much-anticipated group hike, a 14k from Greyton to McGregor, through the foothills of the Overbergs. I have pictures but forgot my connector cable, so they’ll have to be added later. Most impressive was the presence of Jonathan’s 78-year-old mother, Margaret, who, while not skipping up and down the trails, nonetheless performed like a trooper and made it to the end of the trail without complaint despite two minor tumbles along the way. The English are a hardy folk.

It was a great time, actually. I got to know a few Greytonites, all retirees and most of them transplants, including Paul, who shared his mishap-laden stories of travel in the States and, most shockingly, his total ignorance of Elvis Costello (despite being a huge fan tof Diana Krall, he’d never heard of the guy); Ulrich, a retired professor of German Literature and escapee from East Germany, with whom I had a detailed discussion of Caster Semenya; Claus, a retired Swiss engineer with a penchant for photographing flowers while apologizing for not knowing what any of them are. We got a ride home from Andrew, another cheerful, good-natured Brit, and his lead-footed Londoner girlfriend, Susan.

The hike itself was fantastic, taking us from cultivated wine country into semi-arid desert. Along the way were natural falls and pools, wild lilies the size of saucepans and more wildflower varieties than I could count. No baboons, snakes, spiders, leopards or Lyme-carrying ticks, though.

After quick showers the four of us youngsters, myself, Jonathan, Rob and Phil, headed out for a restorative meal in town in R&P’s rental. And then, upon our return, our adventure began. The first thing we noticed was that the entire side of our own rental car was scraped and dented. Next, upon entering our rented house, inside doors that had been closed were now opened. A survey revealed random items taken: Rob’s camera and cellphones, Phil’s iPod, Jonathan’s Adidas racing shoes and, most oddly, yogurt, tea biscuits, Nutella and biscotti. But not the wine, beer or gin. Nor the laptops, expensive running watches or my jewelry case.

With no sign of forced entry, we all sat around worrying that a key was floating out there somewhere. But we finally found a window that was unlocked, probably from prior to our check-in, although there’s always the possibility it was opened by a clever thief with a knife. Also, a deck chair in front of the window was shoved to the side, making it the obvious point of entry. I will say that the police were responsive, as was the security company when we called. The biggest nuisance was the rental car. Again, don’t ask. A day was wasted dealing with that mess. At this point, we’re out a substantial sum due to arcane car rental mores coupled with Avis’s bait and switch policies. Strongly worded letters to the Avis corporate offices and various regulating bodies will follow. Probably with no effect. Don’t rent from Avis!

The agent responsible for managing the house told us that it was probably the work of local teens looking for things to sell for “TIC” (or “tik”), the local variety of crystal meth. How horrible to know this blight has now spread to one of the countries on the planet that can least afford another big social problem. School’s out, which means the kids are idle, and the property crime is up as a result.

So, what a huge fucking drag this has been, a bruise on an otherwise lovely trip. My visits to SA are never complete without a moment when I say to myself, “I’m never doing ‘x’ here again.” The first time it was sitting alone on a beach in Cape Town. The second time it was flying South African Airways. This time it’s…well, I don’t know what exactly.

Jonathan has two friends from his university days, Brand and Ronel, arriving tomorrow evening from Johannesburg. We’ll forget about the events of the last 24 hours and focus on spending time with them. I’ve got a hard 21 miler scheduled this weekend and had hoped to do it before they come tomorrow, but we’ll play it by ear. At this point, I’m inhaling G&Ts in absence of Xanax.

Africa. A nice place to visit until something goes horribly wrong. Which it will if you give it a few days.

Today’s final note: One of the headlines in the Cape Town Times today is “Seeking solutions to baboon-related issues.”

Dispatches…from…Africa…at…128…kbps…

Where it was once called The Dark Continent, I would now characterize Africa as The Slow Continent. And I’m in South Africa, the shining beacon of modernity here. Internet connectivity means plugging a cellular doohickey into the USB port and pouring a nice big cup of tea for every page you hope to load.

No matter, though. I didn’t come here to sit in front of a computer. I’ve spent most of my time either outside running and walking, or inside eating and drinking. Copious amounts of sleeping have figured into this schedule as well.

Here’s a quick rundown of activities thus far. It took us roughly 36 hours over two flights (and lots of ass time in Heathrow) to get from JFK to Cape Town, but thanks to modern chemistry we were able to sleep on the plane and get time adjusted along the way. Our destination was Greyton, a tiny town of around 800 nestled in the Overberg mountains, around 1.5 hours SW of Cape Town. It’s a combination gay/retiree mecca, which means lots of quality restaurants and watering holes, a good wine shop and many organized activities during the day.

We were only here for one night before departing 45 minutes away to the coast to run our half marathon in Hermanus, a big whale watching destination. We stayed in a wonderful B&B, just a five minute walk from the race start and finish. The race itself was actually very funny in some ways, and one I’m proud of. Funny because we awoke a few hours before our 4:30AM alarm to howling winds. They only got worse and by the 7AM start there was a steady wind of 30mph with gusts of (I’m guessing) 50. Enough to knock over heavy garden planters and turn restaurant sandwich boards into potentially lethal projectiles.

My quasi mother- and father-in-law (it’s complicated*), Margaret and Geoff, had generously scoped out the course beforehand, noting that the entire second half was straight uphill, some on loose gravel. So we knew going in that this would not be a PR course. The wind, however, introduced a whole new level of absurdity. I can honestly say that this was the toughest course I’ve ever run. The wind was just relentless. There was one section in the middle of the race, an uphill, when we had a strong tailwind, and my split shows it. The rest of the time, though, it was mostly headwind with an occasional shift to sidewind for some temporary relief.

The course was beautiful, starting in a high school rugby field, a little bit of cross-country course in the beginning, then winding through the town and down along the very wild waterfront. Then up again through the hoity toity area in which we were staying, and back to the school for the finish amongst the stands of spectators.

Knowing the challenges of the last half of the course and figuring in the headwind, my strategy was to run on effort and not worry about pace. I wanted to pass people in the second half and really be able to race those big hills. So I ran the first half at around 88-90% effort (a little lower than I’d typically do for a half), then picked it up in to the low 90%s and finished up in the mid-90%s. I passed a bunch of people and ended 11th woman overall. I have no clue what my masters standing was. Jonathan came in 5th overall and was first masters male. But after much confusion it emerged that this was a club race and, being interlopers and mere holders of “temporary licenses” (don’t ask), we were not eligible for any awards.

As usual, I forgot to turn off my watch, but I think I just broke 1:46 (update: official time was 1:45:52). A good 12 minutes off my best time for the half. Hee hee. Lousy times and awards ineligibility notwithstanding, I’m happy with my execution and ability to perform well in abysmal conditions. I felt great throughout the race and don’t think I could have run it better than I did.

The other highlight of the trip has been the little girl next door who has a massive crush on me. In this case, she’s a Doberman-Alsatian mix. I passed her on a solo run around the neighborhood yesterday, sitting in the drive two doors down from our rental, and she happily tagged along. On the way, she made sure I knew she was the boss of the cows and the guinea fowl. Although she did cower behind me when we were threatened by barking dogs behind fences.

She was the perfect running partner, spending most of her time just off my thigh, her ear brushing me, never half-stepping. Sometimes she’d run off to explore, but never for more than a minute or two. Every mile or so she’d look up as if to say, “How far are we going exactly?” But she never stopped running.

This morning, as we headed out for a group hike, there she was again, waiting for me. We tried to shake her, but she’d have no part of it. Even putting me in a car to drive away from her only resulted in her tearing down the road after us even as we accelerated to 40 km. So she joined us on the hike, again just off my leg. Now she was becoming a problem, as we had to alter the route to take the “no dogs” path. Then she followed us to the pub. So I walked her back to her home, but no one was there. I opened the gate and led her in, only to discover that she is capable of leaping right over it. So, on a lark, I tried a command. “Stay,” I said sternly. And she stayed. So now I know the trick. Fortunately, her owners speak English rather than Afrikaans.

I have more stories to tell, but I’m due at my quasi-inlaws for dinner, so I’m off…

*As Jonathan and I are not married, I’m never sure what to call his mother in relation to myself. Further complicating things is the fact that Geoff is Margaret’s third husband. Did I mention Jonathan’s half-brother, Robbie (different Dad) and his husband, Phil? After a few drinks, it’s challenging to communicate to strangers what we all are to each other.

Fall Training: Week 2

09fall-training-02Like last week, this week had its ups and downs. The ups were two fabulous runs on Wednesday and Thursday. I was still quite tired from Sunday’s 10 mile race heading into the week, so I was grateful for the low mileage.

Wednesday’s run (which I’m thinking of as a “recovereasy run”) is new for this training cycle (as is Thursday’s). In the previous cycle, my tempo miles were tacked onto the end of the midweek midlength run. For many of those runs, I struggled to do the tempo miles at the end. So this time around we’ve separated the two workouts.

The midlength run is now to be done at aerobic effort, but on the lower end of that scale since I need to save some energy for the next day’s tempo running. We may eventually bring back midlenth+tempo runs, but not until I adapt somewhat.

I enjoyed the run on Wednesday, in which I hopped up to White Plains and back at an average of 73% MHR in a decent time of two hours.

For Thursday, I did five warmup miles on the roads at low effort (mid-to-upper 60%s MHR), then hit the track for the four faster miles. Those went well, with the bonus that I had a full floor show for the half hour that I was there. Then finished off with more slow miles back home.

And that’s where the fabulousness ended. I never really recovered this week. The Friday runs were tiring, as I expected them to be. But I was still tired on Saturday, with my legs feeling trashed, like I’d run a race the day before. I felt fine otherwise. I skipped the planned strides because doing them was out of the question. My hamstrings and quads were complaining too much.

Sunday I woke up and my legs felt a bit better, but they were still only about 90%. The run was fine until about mile 10 when I would have been delighted to end it then and there. But I was in White Plains again and had to get home under my own steam.

This was the last Bicycle Sunday, when they close traffic to cars on the Bronx River Parkway for four hours for cyclists, runners and rollerbladers. Since the route is the same one I’ll be running in a few weeks in the Westchester Half, I thought I’d reacquaint myself with the course by running home along the parkway. I’m glad I did for two reasons: first, I was reminded of how hilly the course is, which I never notice so much in the car; second, I had opportunity to do a lot of the miles on the grassy shoulder, which helped save my legs.

Both Jonathan and I were crestfallen to find, at the end of our respective Sunday slogs, that there was no ice cream truck at the finish. Only a hot dog truck. So after a 45 minute nap we walked into Bronxville for ice cream cones. My legs felt better afterward and I’m thinking this therapeutic post-long-run ice cream stroll should become a regular thing. At least until the snow starts falling.

The next couple of weeks will feature a half marathon and lots of disruption as I attempt to train in South Africa while visiting family and friends. I have a few key workouts I’d like to do and I’m hoping that if I rise early enough (or duck out for an hour in the evening) I’ll be able to get most of the planned miles in. But I’m not going to be a lunatic about it.