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October 2018 training recap

October 2018 training recap

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…and here we are, early November, with CIM less than a month away, and not too much left of the year 2018, either, as a matter of fact. I know I say this with every monthly recap and probably with every marathon training cycle, too, but damn. Time sure is going by quickly.

October was one of those months wherein if I could have four of me, it’d make things easier, but alas, the laws of nature as yet still prohibit that, so here we are. The month was rife with lots of good stuff, things that had been in the pipeline for months and that had finally come to fruition. That’s not me being purposefully vaguesauce; it’s just me not wanting to bore y’all to tears over the inner-trappings of all things Girl Scouts, PTA, and the like. (You’re welcome).

in the throes of our sleepover at the Oakland Zoo (which was awesome and I’d highly recommend it, local GS families)

It’s always so gratifying to spend weeks and weeks, if not months and months, planning something and then have it all come together. I think that’s part of why I like marathons: because they necessitate so much planning and so much in the way of contingency plans. You’ve got your Plan A or Goal A, of course, but then you also cover your bases and get down to Z, too, if need be. The flip-side, of course, is that if things don’t go well on marathon day, it’s pretty difficult to easily turn around and do another one, but the build-up is an excellent practice in delayed gratification. Plus — which kinda makes no sense whatsoever to me — even when the training goes by fast, it forces us to slow down and take in the miles as we experience them. I think that’s a great lesson that we can apply to daily life. Remember to breathe and to take time to look around every once in a while.    

Getting recognized for swimming a mile for charity

 

C as Beetlejuice with our neighbor and friend, Vivi

 

Princess Poppy (or Lady Glittersparkles), with a tiara, wearing a Sofia the First pendant, in my prom dress from 2001 or 2002

 

BB8 & Maleficent with a little Juju avocado on the side

Aside from the all the many “life” stuff that October brought, it also brought running hot and heavy, to the tune of around 220 miles. The month was filled with lots of quality miles, some solid, hard workouts, and a *lot* of racing between the Aggies XC Open, the Water Dog 10k, the East Bay 10k, and the Oktoberun half marathon. While not all of these races provided a reliable glimpse into my marathon fitness (due to one reason or another), they did, however, all give me great excuses to see friends from near and far whom I otherwise don’t see. Color me thrilled. I was really lucky to shoehorn these races into pretty packed weekend schedules all month long, too, and for that I am super grateful (S/O to my husband here; this really is a team effort).

cheesin’ hard somewhere on a downhill during the Water Dog 10k (thanks for the very nice and complimentary pics!)

 

when in doubt, throw your hands in the air and hug it out

 

Aggies XC open

 

As we head into November and arguably the thickest part of the CIM training block, I can’t help but be inspired by how people use running and goal races — such as CIM — in their lives in very different but very meaningful ways. Obviously, people begin running at different times in their lives, ranging from childhood to adulthood, and for many different reasons, anything from “I got dumped and I needed to cope” to “I lost a bet” or whatever else. I’m always so intrigued to hear people’s “whys” and what they do, the decisions they make, to keep going with their running day after day. I mean, after all, it’s exponentially easier to quit than it is to keep going; that’s true for just about everything. The gamut of emotion underpinning all of these experiences related to running is deep and rich, and it makes me both appreciate and view my own running “journey,” if you will, differently than I otherwise would. It’s enlightening.  

I was reminded of this sentiment last month when I was volunteering with Wolfpack at the Rock n Roll San Jose half marathon. It was a warmer-than-usual day (and it’s a hot course in the first place), so I think by and large, most runners suffered a bit more than usual. I was hanging on a corner around the 8 mile marker, and toward the end of the race, perhaps around the 3-hour finisher group, a woman dressed in purple walked over to me. At first, I asked if she was okay — since the EMTs were also on that same corner with me — and as we got into conversation, she told me that she follows me on IG (small world) and knew my stroke story from earlier this year. We got to talking, and I learned that just recently, just a week or two earlier, she had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and would be starting her chemo and radiation at Good Sam the following week, just days after RNRSJ.

Suffice it to say that when she showed me her chemo port near her clavicle, it took my breath away. I was so grateful to be wearing dark sunnies. She was young for that disease, probably early-to-mid 40s, and said that she had been in great shape training for RNRSJ when she got the diagnosis. Doing — and finishing — the race was going to be her last hurrah, of sorts, before she began chemo and really began dealing with her illness in earnest. I was so impressed with her candor the whole time she was talking and her absolute bravery toward this disease, a type of cancer that typically has a pretty dire prognosis. She could have been anywhere else that morning, doing literally anything else, yet there she was in the thick of a road race. She was struggling to finish the race but at least wanted to show up and try because not trying wasn’t an option for her. My heart goes out to her, and I obviously am hoping for the best for her as she deals with the insidious disease that is cancer.

This story exemplifies something that I find so powerful about our sport, too. When we’re on the starting line, preparing to compete, we have no idea what it took for all of our peers around us to get there, to stand next to us on that day. Even if we’re all on the line because we have similar goals we want to destroy — like a PR, a BQ, or whatever — we have no idea about the stories and experiences that our peers are bringing with them to the starting (and eventually, the finish) line, the fuel they’re throwing on the fire that’s propelling them from Point A to Point B. Everyone’s journey is different, of course, but everyone’s dealing with something. Sometimes, it’s a little easier to jump to conclusions and understand, even if only a little, what’s making someone compete, particularly if that person is wearing a singlet for a specific charity or advocacy group.

What’s more often the reality, however, is that when we toe the line at a race, we put on our singlets and encase ourselves in a cloak of relative anonymity. Our running and racing becomes about something that is greater than ourselves, greater than us as individual humans. We can both run towards, and away from, something if we so choose. At its heart, running allows us to suffer, yes, but it also allows us to see through, and make sense of, our suffering. I don’t know of many other sports that offer its participants that type of experience. It’s pretty impressive that something so basic and innate can be something so (mentally and physically) transformative.

…and therein lies the beauty of our sport.

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Reading: Oh man, have you read Bad Blood yet? I started it and finished it in early October, and holy crap. It’s pretty incredible. After I finished, I found myself going down the youtube rabbit hole to watch interviews that Elizabeth Holmes had done over the years (partially because I wanted to hear her voice, which is … yeah), and man. What a wild story. After that, I shifted gears and read The Power and left feeling somewhat… uneasy. If you’ve read either, please let me know your thoughts. I was so intrigued by both.

Listening: My husband turned me on to the “In the Dark” podcast, and I finished season 1 over the course of the month during my easy runs. I didn’t listen to “Serial” in its entirety, but that’s what it reminded me of. Season 1 was really hard to listen to at times, due to the content, but it was really well done. My usual IVF podcast of choice is still going strong, and of course, like most of the world, I binged on the “A Star is Born” soundtrack because I love Lady Gaga. (Still haven’t seen it yet, however). Oh, and “Sample of my Pasta” (Bad Lip Reading) and “IDOL” (BTS) are both huge in my house right now and have piqued my kids’ and my interest in k-pop.

Anticipating: Well, I’m writing this on Election Day, so…

Watching: Nothing comes to mind, per yoosh. I started watching “The Tick” on Amazon as a silly show that I can watch with the kids, and it lives up to that expectation. Otherwise, I haven’t seen much. (Now that I say that, I realize the fam and I went to see “Small Foot” this month, and I fell asleep during the back half of the movie. -_- )

Family: Last month, I wrote a lot about my eldest’s swim program going up in proverbial flames. She has since decided to commit to a different program, and fortunately, all seems to be working out well. She participated in a “swim a mile” charity fundraiser in Oakland after a Girl Scout overnight we had with our troop at the zoo, and she loved it. She also participated in a two day swim meet in October and will do it again before the end of the year. Otherwise, the kids and the fam are all doing well.

Racing: Like I mentioned, October was pretty stacked in the racing department. I always say that it’s always a good time of year to be a runner, but like I said last month, the fall racing season is just magical. In November, I’m only planning to do the XC championship meet up in SF before CIM in early December, so ye olde racing sched should be a little quieter this time around. Hard to believe that there’s just a little XC meet left and then it’ll be the big day.

again: when in doubt, throw your hands up

Less than a month now til CIM!  

2018 Matt Yeo Memorial Aggies XC Open race report – Martinez, CA

2018 Matt Yeo Memorial Aggies XC Open race report – Martinez, CA

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October 20, besides being my dear sister’s birthday, was completely full, one of those 4:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. type of days. My Saturday morning began how many of my Saturdays have begun of late: with a PA cross country meet, this time the Matt Yeo Memorial Aggies XC open, up in Martinez at the Regional Shoreline Park. I had never done this race before and knew nothing about the course, so I looked forward to doing something new-to-me. Mixing it up in training and racing is always a good thing in my book. Plus, how fun would it be to run “the greatest cross-country race in the world or at least America.  If not America then certainly one of the top-10 open cross-country races in Martinez, CA,” as the race’s site suggested?! I mean, it’s not every day you get the opportunity to do something of that magnitude, right?!

G’s preschool had off that week, so my typical running schedule in advance of the XC race was altered slightly: no big. I ran more stroller miles that week than I have in months, and she loved it, so all was well in the world. I didn’t do any workouts that week (not wanting to attempt one with the stroller during the daytime, and alternately, not wanting to do it at 4am, in the dark, by myself), so I told myself it all meant that I’d be going into the endeavor on fairly fresh legs: or as fresh legs as one can have in the thick of marathon training. I didn’t have any particular goals for the 4.2 mile XC race but to run hard, have fun, and make the hour drive each way worth it. Knowing that we would be fielding two complete men’s and women’s teams meant that it’d surely make for a social morning, too, which I always love.

a week of running together seemed to make the little one really happy

My teammates were spot-on: the course was super flat (probably the flattest XC I’ve run on) and definitely had the potential to be fast. During our warm-up mileage, in which we ran one of the two-loop course, we scoped out what we’d be encountering: a grassy field start; a little bit of asphalt; loose gravel; sand; some tanbark stuff; a couple little bridges; and some potentially-precarious footing on rocks that abutted the slough. Not too bad for 4.2 miles! The temps were quintessentially perfect for autumn racing — cool and crispy when you stood around, but just right when you were running — and the wind was variable. The course was open and exposed, making me kinda think of the Baylands over near Sunnyvale. Hopefully, the wind would stay home; otherwise, we’d be whipped around a lot without much reprieve. (foreshadowing!)

As we lined up on the grass, I positioned myself behind Claire and hoped, per usual, to avoid eating shit coming off the grassy starting line. I tend to get a little anxious at the start of these races, particularly if we’re beginning on the grass, because I’m afraid I’m going to trip, or be tripped, and just eat it right after the gun. The pictures are revealing, as I’m one of the last runners off the grass and onto the pavement (and definitely last among my teammates). I just tell myself that it’s strategic, that it helps ensure that I don’t go out too quickly. Sure.

get ready, get set … (PC: WRC)

 

go!!!!! I’m behind Claire, who’s the center-most orange singlet you can see(PC: WRC)

 

comfortably staying in the back and out of the way (PC: WRC)

 

ready to get off the grass (PC: WRC)

 

and WHEW! stable footing. for a second, anyway (PC: WRC)

My theory is that it always feels windy when you’re trying to run fast, and that seemed especially true during the race. (Fortunately, my teammates afterward all remarked that they, too, felt tons of wind. Hooray for it not being in my head!). I tried to hold steady in my pace and wasn’t clock-watching at all — instead, going by effort, as I’ve been doing more often than not during this training cycle and during XC races, in particular — and kept my eyes fixated on all the runners ahead of me. Our neon orange singlets make it especially easy to stay abreast of each other at any given time.

IDK where on the course this was, but at least we all know I was going in the right direction 🙂 (PC: WRC)

I eventually got that feeling somewhere around the halfway mark, as we were beginning our second lap, that I unfortunately went out too fast and was probably going to pay the price unless I could rally. ::plays the world’s smallest violin::  It’s a frustrating mistake to make for sure, so I tried to instead focus on all the runners around me and tried to not get passed by anyone. For a few strides anyway, I was right with Lisa (fresh off a surgery for a Jones fracture and using that XC race as her post-surgery race debut), but eventually she slipped away. I never saw Claire again after the earliest parts of the race, though Lisa and Anica were not too far ahead of me in the distance. Heather and Mona were somewhere in the mix, too, though I had no idea where because I couldn’t see them.

still going (PC: WRC)

Not clock-watching became especially useful here because I intuitively knew I was slowing down, and seeing it “officially” on my Garmin wasn’t going to help matters at all. I tried to focus on the effort and intensity and told myself that I’d be done in about 14 minutes, 15 minutes max, and to stay mentally with it. I can be uncomfortable for 14 or 15 minutes. That’s just 1 minute, over and over and over again. (I am especially fond of this mental game and play it often during hard workouts).  

finishing the thing, right before hopping back onto the grass. That’s my teammate Addison closest to me and Garrick behind me. (PC: WRC)

And like that, it was over. Racing is so twisted in that way, isn’t it? For me, it doesn’t matter if I’m racing a short XC event or a marathon; time flies by (though in the moment, sometimes it seems to stand still. It’s very Twilight Zone-y, being fast and slow simultaneously). We rounded a corner and transitioned from pavement, to gravel, to a grassy finish in the span of just a few strides, and right before finishing I saw several of my male teammates (whose race was later) cheering on the women, imploring us to find that last gear and to finish strong.

Something I wouldn’t have anticipated loving about XC is the male/female race segregation. At any other race, where we’d be comingled, I’d never have the opportunity to cheer for — or to be cheered by — my male teammates, aside from a mid-race side-five or momentary holler. XC gives us an opportunity to experience that camaraderie, and honestly, it’s awesome. There’s just something really special and heartwarming, for lack of a better word, to be encouraged by people who a) are doing the same thing as you and b) know, appreciate, and identify the feelings that you’re experiencing at that moment (discomfort, excitement, that whole gamut that racing can engender). Certainly there are probably logistical constraints that necessitate men and women racing XC separately, and maybe it’s also dictated by USATF. Whatever. Consider this my soft-plea for you to go join your local running team and to go race alongside them. It’s a gamechanger, truly.

the CD party is always a good time, too

 

we cool down; they warm-up

Aside from my idiotic pacing at this race, I’ve zero complaints. The course was beautiful, I had a blast, I got to run hard, and it was a great way to begin my weekend, even with the hella long drive. Post-race, my teammates and I logged some additional cool-down miles, and before long, I was on the road to return back to the south bay. I had a full day and night of Girl Scouts of Nor Cal functions, and unfortunately the poor luncheon attendees probably got to experience the joy and smell that is Erin post-XC. I reapplied deodorant, and I’m pretty sure I at least wiped off all the dirt from my ankles, anyway. That’s gotta count for something.  

I’ll probably only race XC a couple more times this year between now and CIM (and there are still plenty of opportunities for you to race, local friends!), but I’ve really enjoyed what I’ve done this year so far. It’s a completely different type of running and racing, and it’s as hard as it is fun, which is to say, a lot.

I can’t recommend it enough.

oozing love. join us. we’re a blast. (PC: WRC)