Calving Calves?

Hey faithful readers. I know it's been almost another three weeks, but I also know that no one reads this, so I don't feel so bad :) Let's see, in the past three weeks...
I finished that awesome week I was having when last I wrote. 62 Miles and an awesome 20 miler. Probably one of my best weeks of training ever. However, it had taken a toll on my body. I caught a cold. I get sick very rarely, so this was indeed a bummer. But the combination of the hard week and staying up late every friggin night to watch Michael Phelps win yet another gold medal just didn't let my body recover like it needed. Luckily, for the most part, I kept up with my key workouts while I was under the weather. The 20 miler the following weekend didn't feel nearly as spectacular though. I got through it and pushed onward. On the following Wednesday, I continued to test myself. I was worn down after a week of being sick and a second 20 miler that took a lot out of me, but decided to go ahead with a very tough Tempo (speedy) session. The session went swimmingly, splits like I rarely see! But after slowing down, my left calf staged a coup. It was done. The union strike continued that night. And when I tried to force the strike to end the next morning, the union rallied back. My first purely injury related down time of the training cycle. 4 days. 4 days off with no running. Not quite as bad as the dreaded Montezuma break, but time off is always hard for me. I ran a great 5 miles this morning. And hope to be up for another Tempo workout on Wednesday morning. (the forecast is for mid-to-low 60s!)

In general, right now, I am tired. Like full-body-and-mind tired. But at least those NBC-ruined Olympics are over and I can get back to full nights of sleep. I think that alone will go a loooooong way to getting me back to normal. Only time will tell.

In other news... I have decided on a path of full teetotaling abstinence until race day. I have already abandoned my friends to an extent that stretches any sort of loyalty to the breaking point. That being the case, I absolutely have to achieve my goal this time around. Consequently, I have to eliminate ALL of the factors that may jeopardize the goal. No booze of any sort. No going out of any sort. No bedtimes after 9-9:30pm each night. No missed workouts of any kind (save for injury). I spoke before of sacrifice, of choices. This is really where/when this gets put to the test. I am making the decision that this is it. I WILL achieve my goal this time around. Now I need to make the choices at every step of the way to get me there. I said before that, even if I don't make it this time, that I now know HOW to make it next time. But those sound like justifications, like reasons and rationalizations for not stepping across the finish line in less than 3:10. No excuses. Like Yoda so famously and eloquently commanded, "Do or do not. There is no try."

Half and Half?

Yo Peeps. Good to see you again. I know it's been entirely too long since last we spoke, but I'm back. When last I wrote, I was questioning the authority of running shoe store employees. Well, question them anymore I shall not. My very unscientific results indicate that neutral cushioned shoes should not be worn by your trusty host. Basically, after the last blog post, my legs went to goo. I had trouble running even 5 miles and I felt a kind of pain that I had never felt before. Whole leg pain. My whole legs hurt, both of em. It felt like shooting pain, which I am totally used to, but it completely blanketed my legs from toe to hip. In the week leading up to the NYC Half Marathon, I think I ran about 18-20 miles. If that much. I probably could have run more, but I figured my body was trying to tell me something and that if I really took that week to rest, I might be able to salvage a respectable race that Sunday. So, back to the Kayano's ... But first!

July 27th, 7am, 78 degrees, rain showers, 80% humidity.

NYC Half Marathon. At go time, I had already broken two cardinal rules of racing. The first of which I was previously aware and had chosen to break. The second of which almost got me disqualified. Even the greenest of competitors in a race of longer distance knows that you never try anything new on race day. No new foods, no new vitamins or drugs, no fad shortcuts, no new outfits, and most importantly, no new shoes. I had never even worn my brand new Asics Gel Bandito racing shoes on a training run. Hadn't even worn them out of my apartment. But there I was on the starting line in shoes light as a feather. The second rule that I broke was exiting the starting corrals. My awesome family (Mom, Dad, Aunt Mary, Uncle Bobby, cousin Emma, and buddy Sean) had made the trip up from the District to watch me race and had somehow managed to find the starting corral in which I had been seeded. They shouted out their support and, seeing as the gun was not to go off for about 5 minutes, I jumped the fence and a rope... and another fence to try to climb up the hill where they were perched. This was apparently a big no-no. A race marshall quickly called me out and radioed my bib number to the race hq and indicated that I had been DQ'd. I made my way back down the hill with about 3-400 runners watching my walk of shame and crossed my fingers that my complete embarassment was punishment enough. The race went great though. One whole loop around the entire Central Park, dodging a sea of wet, steaming horse manure - up and down hills I didn't think were possible in the midst of a big city. The second time around (not another full loop), the manure was good and trampled, so no one bothered to avoid it. Out the south end of the park onto 7th Avenue into a sea of screaming fans. Just awesome. Probably only matched by the sound I heard in Chicago at the finish. Straight down the middle of one of the most famous strips of road in the world to Times Square, where the sound and the crowd redoubled. I wasted probably a mile's worth of energy speeding up and cheering and flying around with my arms out like an airplane. Out 42nd street to the Hudson river and all the way down to the tip of Manhatan Island at Battery Park. The numbers from my run can be seen in their entirety here. And my results made me very happy - 1:29:48 for 398th out of 10,506. At the finish, my Aunt Mary asked me what happened. Not entirely sure what she meant, I recounted what happened in the race. But she stopped me and pointed downward at my foot. "This is why one never wears new shoes to a race." I was a bit battle worn. Heh. Good times.

The Second Half of the "Half and Half" is the fact that I am now in the Second Half. My official training cycle started with 24 weeks to go. I am now past the hump, with a little less than 12 weeks remaining. As of this morning, I am back to feeling great. My 18 mile run on Sunday felt totally solid and I had a great speedy session this morning. There is absolutely no pain, soreness, or stiffness in my legs and my energy is fine during the days. I really think the combination of the time off because of the race and the switch back in the shoe department have brought me back to where I need to be. 8 easy miles tomorrow, then rest up on friday for a 20 miler on Saturday. If both of those go well, I will be at 62 miles for the week which is just about as high as I've ever gone in the past. Rock and Roll. With a 62 and a solid 20, I will feel confident that my foundation is all there, and not worry about mileage totals anymore. I can focus on speedier stuff, race specific stuff, and things like fueling and routines. The excitement is back, after being on hiatus for a while.
I've got 81 days of training left to add the two halves together to make a whole lotta noise in Dublin. Bring it on.