In Between Races

This year, I'm mixing things up.

I waiver between thinking my change of pace is completely awesome or completely and utterly dumb.

I've registered for two marathons...14 days apart.

The Chicago Marathon is this Sunday, October 13th. I'm proud to say this is my hometown marathon. 

When I first started training for a marathon, my goal was to run Chicago once. I was inspired to run Chicago after watching my uncle run the race while I was in high school. Talk about a memory that has lasted nearly a lifetime.

I've thought about not running Chicago. I could, per say, run a marathon somewhere else. Maybe another big city marathon. But the thing that always brings me back is what a great, I mean fantastic, race Chicago is. How can I not run Chicago when it's so damn convenient? 

It would be like me telling you I don't like the new Trader Joe's location in Evanston. It has everything every other TJ's has but its in my backyard. No more traveling to Lakeview or Glenview for my Orange Chicken, Mango Salsa, Cookie Butter and everything else uniquely Trader Joe's that I now cannot live without. Location is key. Being in my car less makes me happy. Big win for TJ's Evanston (even if your parking lot is sort of a nightmare).

No really, Chicago truly is an outstanding race.  One in which I am lucky enough to sleep in my own bed the night before, jump on the same train I take often to work and can navigate downtown better than any other city. Huge pluses, er stars. 

So when Chicago's registration opened in February, I was one of the lucky few who got in without registration issues. Chicago Marathon #6 was confirmed. 

A number of weeks later, registration for the Marine Corps Marathon opened. This was the race I had my eyes on this year. Though the registration process proved challenging, I had a registration confirmation before the race sold out. 

And then, back in March, suddenly I had two marathons two weeks apart. 

So, to the question everyone is asking me - How are you training in between?

Well, that's a great question. One in which I've done maybe a half hour of research on so far. My first source was Hal Higdon. Hal's the man. His training programs have gotten me through five marathons and probably two dozen halves, so if he says he has a plan for two marathons two weeks part, I'm just going to go with it. One day, after my thirty minutes of research concluded, I wrote down the run schedule on a napkin and pinned it to my cork board in my office. Very official. 

I've talked with a few friends who've done multiple marathons in a condensed period, including my friend George, a man who knocks out two marathons in two states in a weekend on a regular basis. The wisdom passed along to me so far has been to pick one race as my goal race.  The other is just for fun. What if goal race and fun effort are the same? I'm trying to wrap my head around that. 

My plan thus far goes something like this. Run Chicago. Don't die. Don't get sick. Don't get injured. Run a smart race (mainly this means listen to your body - my body doesn't like heat). Drink beer after crossing finish line and start honing in on best recovery practices for 13 days. Go for a long massage the next day. Maybe another before boarding the plane to DC. Drink lots of fluids. Stretch. Try to jog it out like Hal instructed. Attend a moderate yoga class (tone down the arm balances or inversions at The Lab if needed). Eat a lot and anything I want, cause, I just bought myself two more weeks of it. 

The end. 

Let's see how this works (or doesn't). 

Pushing Through

Long runs can take a long time. I like to think of them as journeys.

You can experience a variety of emotion, physical challenge and weather all on the same long run. 

September 7th's 18 miler was just that.

After a tune-up massage on Thursday night,  I foam rolled and crossed my fingers that my sore hip and quad would cooperate during Saturday morning's group training run.

That morning, I met Jeff and Carl, along with many others fellow marathoners-in-training, down at the Montrose site.

The weather was cooler than expected for what would be a hot day. Even still, it was humid.

The run started off ok. As we pulled into the first aid station at Diversey, I started to experience the lightheaded symptoms I had two weeks ago. I wonder where this is coming from. I've managed to train for five marathons and never have this.

I didn't want to give up 2.5 miles in to an 18 mile run, but at the same time, I didn't want to push too hard and pass out either. I decided to slow down the pace a bit and stay in the back of the group where I could trail off if needed.

I let Jeff know I wasn't feeling 100% and encouraged him to go on at the front of the group without me. He checked in with Carl, our group leader, and then came back to me. He said not to worry about it, he would run with me.

I have known Jeff since the summer of 2008 when I trained for my first marathon. With the exception of one year, he's been there with our group each year. Last year, Jeff and I ran the entire Chicago Marathon course together. Talk about stars aligning! This year, Jeff's training is going quite well. He seems stronger this year than in any other year I've known him. He could have easily continued with Carl at the front of the group, leading the way down to McCormick Place and back. Instead, he came to hang back with me. What a great friend!

We chased our group from a distance down to the turn around, then headed back north. Some miles I felt better (physically or mentally), others worse. The clouds parted to sun, back to clouds, to rain, to overcast again.

We talked about anything we could think of. Any topic could fly except to talk about running.

In the end, we finished where we started. 18 miles was complete.

A McDonald's fountain coke was purchased on the way home followed by a check mark placed next to the date where 18 miles was written.
 
The run wasn't pretty, but it was done.

[Thanks, Jeff]

The Wrath of Heated Power Vinyassa Yoga

In the last year, my coworker and I have been doing a sort of citywide yoga studio tour. Though we've fallen in love with The Lab, we're continuing to try out others as well.

For the last week, I've been going to yoga studio #5. It's located in Streeterville which is quite convenient to work and the train. The studio is in a nice sunlit and spacious place. Our first class was a Friday evening candlelit vinyassa flow class. Just challenging enough for a Friday night.

Last week, I tried my first heated power vinyassa class. Though the class proved to be challenging and warm, I didn't feel like it defeated me.

Last night, I took the same class again. I was expecting the same experience last last week, hoping to build on poses that proved particularly challenging.

But this practice took a different turn. Instead of on-the-verge-of-uncomfortable warm, the room quickly turned into sauna-like temperatures. The teacher flowed between positions quickly. My mat couldn't keep up with the sweat it was given.

I looked around the room. Everyone was sweating, but no one seemed to be sweating as much as me. I continued through the class as best as I could. As we stood in mountain pose, sweat ran from my temples down my face and off my chin. As we moved into forward fold, the sweat reversed directions. Big drops of sweat plummeted my mat as I rested in downward facing dog. As we caught up with our breath in child's pose, I looked for a place to put the crown of my head that wasn't already soaked.

I stopped frequently to drink water and wipe my face on my shirt. I found myself wondering how running 26 miles was possible for this body but not 70 minutes of heated power vinyasa.

As we moved into balancing poses, I struggled to find a place to place. After all, slip and slides weren't meant to let one defy gravity. I stepped off my mat to see the immediate area wasn't much safer. Now this is just embarrassing.

Class wound down and the teacher thanked us for coming. Another student commented about the warm room. The teacher admitted this wasn't her usual class. In fact, she hadn't taught a heated class in some time. As we walked out of the room, I caught a glimpse of the thermostat. It read 120 degrees.

I rest my case.