How I learned to hate and love running...
Even though I ran track in high school, I call myself a beginner runner. I occasionally run for exercise and to clear my head, but have never been a long distance runner. Ever. I'm too restless. I get bored quickly. I like to run fast. I can't find the right music to run too. The list of excuses is long. So why would I sign up for the grueling 199 mile relay race called Hood To Coast?
Like a lot of people, I both love a challenge and love to be fit. And like a lot of people, I need a push to get started. The wanting itself isn't enough to get me out the door; I need to have a specific, concrete reason to exercise. It's this ambivalence that drives the entire Running Race industry. Their product is motivation and I am a reluctant consumer.
The Hood To Coast relay is a Goliath in the Racing Calendar. Both a logistical and endurance feat that brings in teams of 12 from around the globe, elite runners and weekend warriors alike. I had heard for years how hard (and ultimately rewarding) the Hood To Coast could be, but hadn't given it much thought. Maybe it was a milestone birthday, maybe it was the impending graduation of a pre-schooler, maybe it was a moment of weakness (or strength)... One rainy day in October of 2017, without a van, without a plan, I signed up to lead a team of 12 from the glacier at Timberline to the shores of the Pacific.
I'm not sure what gave me the motivation to step so far outside of my comfort zone and to throw this challenge in front of myself. But, the pattern certainly isn't new. It's kinda my MO--I dive deep into things without fully understanding what I'm getting myself into. Sometimes I regret it, but I'm never fazed by it. I guess I like to discover things as they happen. Will I survive? Will I succeed? Will I end up curled-up in a ball of writhing pain? Life's a surprise when you hurl into it unplanned, straight forward, wide-eyed! If I envisioned the demanding, time consuming, punishing future, I would be a lot less likely to accept it. Who am I kidding? I would opt out long before I even began. And then how exciting would life be?
In February of 2018 we learned our team had been chosen. I still didn't know a lot of the basics: who was the team? what 3 sections would I run? how far would they be? The only fact I knew for sure was that together my 3 relay runs (between 13 and 19 miles) would certainly add up to more mileage than I'd ever run in a day; maybe ever in my life. And I knew I needed to start training right away.
The difference between willing oneself to act and actually acting is like the difference between lightening bugs and lightening. Knowing one should train and doing that training are so close, yet so far apart. It was early February, after all. The race was scheduled for late August! Light years away. I was concurrently thinking that I had plenty of time and also feeling the deadline loom.
By February I started running more, and by "more" I mean once a week... tops. In March, I started getting more serious; I began running 3 miles two or three times a week. As a novice, however, my training speed was "as fast as I could run to get it over with." Always the responsible consumer, I got new running shoes right away. And kept running short, hard, and fast. Within a week in my new shoes I developed debilitating shin splints. Was it the shoes? Was it the increase in mileage? Was it the tempo, the terrain? A combo of distance and speed? It didn't matter. My body was sending me a throbbing, aching, agonizing message with every step. Shin splints are painful! And nothing helps. Even with ibuprofen my barking shins kept me up at night. I saw my general practitioner who, wisely, had me stop running for awhile. I iced and followed sage internet advice. I saw an acupuncturist and a physical therapist and did as they instructed. In the end, I went two months without running. I was bummed. I was frustrated. I was a little scared. As team leader I didn't want to let down 11 teammates from whom I had by now collected money, distributed "relay legs" and motivated by example! And my own training had stopped.
I tried to cross-train by practicing yoga and using a stationary bike. This felt like it maintained muscle mass, but I hardly felt like it kept up any endurance I had built. I had gone from zero to 60 and my body was telling me to pump the brakes, but it felt like the universe was telling me stop running for good. Yes, I admit, I was being a bit dramatic. (I can hear my dad sarcastically saying "You?! Dramatic?!) I felt defeated.
I wasn't sure if I would be able to train in time. I was doubtful, nervous, scared and feeling pretty sorry for myself. Then I started thinking: this is my out. I wouldn't run HTC, because I couldn't. I was injured. Other people were dropping like flies from my team, I could too! It was the perfect excuse!
Despite the setbacks and the defeatism I refused to throw in the towel just yet. But I did keep the towel very, very close just in case. The PT gave me exercises to strengthen my hips and I started doing more core workouts. Turns out it's all connected! Strengthening your core and hips will ultimately make you a better runner. My acupuncturist suggested that I start running again, but start slow: one mile at a dead crawl. My first run in months was 1 mile at a 14-minute pace. It was exhausting. My shin felt fine, my body felt solid, but at that snail's pace my mind was telling me to quit. I like to run fast. And even though I knew this new speed was good for me, it felt like torture.
Slowly, I increased my mileage and pace. I felt great! But each run started with the nagging feeling that "this might be the one where my shins fail me." Each twinge or throb from my knee down made my heart sink; are they back? Am i doomed? And yet, I was starting to feel stronger. 11 other people were counting on me! I couldn't, wouldn't let them down! And I like a challenge, remember. So I bucked up and started training for realsies. Bowing out wasn't an option. Giving into fear would only make me feel like a failure. Fear is one of those nasty characters that likes to take over the whole narrative. Life lessons, even the tests we put in front of ourselves, sometimes need to be triumphed over and over again. Self doubt can hang like a fog that hides the finish line just out of view.
I was going to have none of it!
So I went where every hero goes in the face of danger... Back to the internet. I looked up a few training plans from other blog posts, and modified them from experience runner to weekend warrior. I made them work for me. In 5 weeks I turned an injured, weak frame into an award-winning part of a running machine. Our team finished the Hood to Coast relay in 33hours and stood on a podium of sand, Aleve and beer to accept our participatory medals surrounded by 12,000 of the stinkiest, proudest people in Oregon.
I've included my training regimen below in the hopes that it may help some novice out there who thinks they can't do it, but forces themselves to try anyway. It's not perfect. I've outlined below it what I would do differently. Please let me know how it works for you!
Things I would do differently:
Things I learned:
Strong similarities with being in labor:
Call me crazy, but running this race reminded me of being in labor. Here's how:
Things I didn't expect:
Even though I ran track in high school, I call myself a beginner runner. I occasionally run for exercise and to clear my head, but have never been a long distance runner. Ever. I'm too restless. I get bored quickly. I like to run fast. I can't find the right music to run too. The list of excuses is long. So why would I sign up for the grueling 199 mile relay race called Hood To Coast?
Like a lot of people, I both love a challenge and love to be fit. And like a lot of people, I need a push to get started. The wanting itself isn't enough to get me out the door; I need to have a specific, concrete reason to exercise. It's this ambivalence that drives the entire Running Race industry. Their product is motivation and I am a reluctant consumer.
The Hood To Coast relay is a Goliath in the Racing Calendar. Both a logistical and endurance feat that brings in teams of 12 from around the globe, elite runners and weekend warriors alike. I had heard for years how hard (and ultimately rewarding) the Hood To Coast could be, but hadn't given it much thought. Maybe it was a milestone birthday, maybe it was the impending graduation of a pre-schooler, maybe it was a moment of weakness (or strength)... One rainy day in October of 2017, without a van, without a plan, I signed up to lead a team of 12 from the glacier at Timberline to the shores of the Pacific.
I'm not sure what gave me the motivation to step so far outside of my comfort zone and to throw this challenge in front of myself. But, the pattern certainly isn't new. It's kinda my MO--I dive deep into things without fully understanding what I'm getting myself into. Sometimes I regret it, but I'm never fazed by it. I guess I like to discover things as they happen. Will I survive? Will I succeed? Will I end up curled-up in a ball of writhing pain? Life's a surprise when you hurl into it unplanned, straight forward, wide-eyed! If I envisioned the demanding, time consuming, punishing future, I would be a lot less likely to accept it. Who am I kidding? I would opt out long before I even began. And then how exciting would life be?
In February of 2018 we learned our team had been chosen. I still didn't know a lot of the basics: who was the team? what 3 sections would I run? how far would they be? The only fact I knew for sure was that together my 3 relay runs (between 13 and 19 miles) would certainly add up to more mileage than I'd ever run in a day; maybe ever in my life. And I knew I needed to start training right away.
The difference between willing oneself to act and actually acting is like the difference between lightening bugs and lightening. Knowing one should train and doing that training are so close, yet so far apart. It was early February, after all. The race was scheduled for late August! Light years away. I was concurrently thinking that I had plenty of time and also feeling the deadline loom.
By February I started running more, and by "more" I mean once a week... tops. In March, I started getting more serious; I began running 3 miles two or three times a week. As a novice, however, my training speed was "as fast as I could run to get it over with." Always the responsible consumer, I got new running shoes right away. And kept running short, hard, and fast. Within a week in my new shoes I developed debilitating shin splints. Was it the shoes? Was it the increase in mileage? Was it the tempo, the terrain? A combo of distance and speed? It didn't matter. My body was sending me a throbbing, aching, agonizing message with every step. Shin splints are painful! And nothing helps. Even with ibuprofen my barking shins kept me up at night. I saw my general practitioner who, wisely, had me stop running for awhile. I iced and followed sage internet advice. I saw an acupuncturist and a physical therapist and did as they instructed. In the end, I went two months without running. I was bummed. I was frustrated. I was a little scared. As team leader I didn't want to let down 11 teammates from whom I had by now collected money, distributed "relay legs" and motivated by example! And my own training had stopped.
I tried to cross-train by practicing yoga and using a stationary bike. This felt like it maintained muscle mass, but I hardly felt like it kept up any endurance I had built. I had gone from zero to 60 and my body was telling me to pump the brakes, but it felt like the universe was telling me stop running for good. Yes, I admit, I was being a bit dramatic. (I can hear my dad sarcastically saying "You?! Dramatic?!) I felt defeated.
I wasn't sure if I would be able to train in time. I was doubtful, nervous, scared and feeling pretty sorry for myself. Then I started thinking: this is my out. I wouldn't run HTC, because I couldn't. I was injured. Other people were dropping like flies from my team, I could too! It was the perfect excuse!
Despite the setbacks and the defeatism I refused to throw in the towel just yet. But I did keep the towel very, very close just in case. The PT gave me exercises to strengthen my hips and I started doing more core workouts. Turns out it's all connected! Strengthening your core and hips will ultimately make you a better runner. My acupuncturist suggested that I start running again, but start slow: one mile at a dead crawl. My first run in months was 1 mile at a 14-minute pace. It was exhausting. My shin felt fine, my body felt solid, but at that snail's pace my mind was telling me to quit. I like to run fast. And even though I knew this new speed was good for me, it felt like torture.
Slowly, I increased my mileage and pace. I felt great! But each run started with the nagging feeling that "this might be the one where my shins fail me." Each twinge or throb from my knee down made my heart sink; are they back? Am i doomed? And yet, I was starting to feel stronger. 11 other people were counting on me! I couldn't, wouldn't let them down! And I like a challenge, remember. So I bucked up and started training for realsies. Bowing out wasn't an option. Giving into fear would only make me feel like a failure. Fear is one of those nasty characters that likes to take over the whole narrative. Life lessons, even the tests we put in front of ourselves, sometimes need to be triumphed over and over again. Self doubt can hang like a fog that hides the finish line just out of view.
I was going to have none of it!
So I went where every hero goes in the face of danger... Back to the internet. I looked up a few training plans from other blog posts, and modified them from experience runner to weekend warrior. I made them work for me. In 5 weeks I turned an injured, weak frame into an award-winning part of a running machine. Our team finished the Hood to Coast relay in 33hours and stood on a podium of sand, Aleve and beer to accept our participatory medals surrounded by 12,000 of the stinkiest, proudest people in Oregon.
I've included my training regimen below in the hopes that it may help some novice out there who thinks they can't do it, but forces themselves to try anyway. It's not perfect. I've outlined below it what I would do differently. Please let me know how it works for you!
-----------------------------------
Things I would do differently:
- Start training sooner!!
- Add 1 to 2 more 3-mile runs Week 1 and add 1 to 2 more 4-mile runs Week 2.
- Add more core/yoga workouts. By Week 4 my muscles were really tight and I needed to be stretching a lot more!
- Bring less food. There isn't a lot of time to eat during the race. Once you drop off the runner, you travel to the next exchange and traffic was often heavy. I was so happy I brought Juice Plus protein packs! I mixed them with unsweetened almond milk and drank a shake after every run. It was perfect. I also made protein balls before the race and they were a great treat for the team. (I'll post the recipe below).
- Start asking for volunteers as early as possible. Each team is required to deliver 3 volunteers. We asked a few people early on, but didn't make it a priority. The last few days leading up to the race were very stressful, as we were still trying to find two of our three volunteers. Luckily, a few friends stepped up and kept us from a disappointing disqualification.
- Have a plan for the night time/early AM exchange with the other van. We were in Van 1 and were able to sleep from 3am - 7am. We thought we didn't have to be ready to run till 8am, but we were wrong! We were woken up at 7am by the other van telling us it was time to run! Yikes! As there was no cell reception we hadn't been able to stay in contact with each other and the first person awake had to lace up and go with bleary eyes and wild, wild hair. Discuss the estimated exchange time with the whole team, before you are out of cell service.
Things I learned:
- Even when you think you can't. You can! This was proven over and over again during the race. I injured my toe on my first leg and I injured my groin muscle on the second leg. But I kept running. Other team members has similar injuries and no one, not once, let down the group.
- Warm up before your run. Stretch after your run. (I found some great resources on www.verywellfit.com)
Strong similarities with being in labor:
Call me crazy, but running this race reminded me of being in labor. Here's how:
- Mantras: While running my second leg, at night, I kept telling myself "I am strong. I am confident. I can do this"! I continued the mantras thru my 3rd leg.
- There are 12,000 other people running with you today. (It helps me feel like part of a community. I used this type of quote during labor too. I think the number of other women in labor at any given moment is 300,000. I kept this in mind while in labor and felt like part of a community of strong women. Similarly, while I ran, I channeled the same inspiring thought.)
- Have a plan, but be flexible. If you've ever labored, you know what I'm talking about.
- Deep breathing is essential.
- It's going to hurt. But, you will heal.
- There's a lot of build up to the actual event.
- After it's all said and done, you want to do it again. (This won't resonate with everyone.)
Things I didn't expect:
- To injure my toe on the first run.
- To injure my groin muscle and not be able to walk without limping afterwards.
- After the race my chest hurt/burned for a few days. I checked with other teammates and this happened to them as well. I'm not sure if it was overexertion or the extremely poor, fire-stoked air quality leading up to the race.
- To have such a great time IN the van. We laughed till our faces hurt. It reminded me of doing theater and the special bond that you make with the people in the show. It was a blast!
- Our van didn't get as stinky as people said. We were all ladies, so maybe that something to do with it?
- All the runners on the course were so nice.
- All the bowel movement talk! We all new who had pooped and who hadn't at any given moment.
- To want to do it again.
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| Me & Megan at the top of Mount Hood |
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| Van 1: (from L) Megan, Jenelle, Vanessa, Bonnie, Becca, Me |
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| Bonnie & Megan sporting their reflective vests |
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| Me after my 3rd leg! |
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| The whole team at the beach! |
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