Swimming--Not Just Child's Play

So, after yesterday's fiasco, I was determined to go for a swim today. The sky looked threatening, but I took a chance and ventured over to the Garden Hills Pool around 4pm for a pool workout. I hate working out indoors (with the exception of yoga and Pilates), plus swimming is completely non-impact and has the added bonus of providing a cool environment in which to exercise.

I worried that the pool would be overrun with kids, but it has a lap lane, which was blissfully unoccupied for the majority of my workout. I did 15 minutes of laps--alternating freestroke and backstroke--followed by 15 minutes of pool running (with the help of a weighted vest, which probably looked silly, but I was so excited to be doing something resembling running, I didn't care) and another 15 minutes of laps.

I practically lived in the pool as a child, but somewhere along the way, I lost my love for the water. It probably had something to do with the fact that swimming requires a bathing suit and makes my hair turn green and the consistency of straw.

Today, I reveled in the cool water and the respite from the Atlanta heat. And what a workout it was--I could barely lift myself out of the water when I was done, and my arms and shoulders hurt as I type. I probably got in a good half mile (who knows--maybe there is a triathalon in my future?!?) and felt like I do after a two hour run.

I think it's definitely something I'll add to my cross-training repertoire even when I can start running again.

Glass Half Full

Since I've been mopey and cranky about not being able to train (especially tonight, when I wanted to get a swim in and discovered that NO ONE in my condo building knows the code to the pool, then drove all the way to the Garden Hills pool to discover that non-members are denied access after 5pm), I've decided to take note of the positive things about NOT running for two months:

1. I can sleep late on Saturday mornings for the first time in nearly a year.


2. No more Friday night bagel runs to Einstein's and no more of that gross onion/cinnamon/garlic hybrid bagel smell in my car.


3. I don't have to run the entire month of August--arguably, the hottest month of the year.


4. Significantly less laundry, which means I'm doing my part to conserve water during this neverending drought.


5. I'll have to buy one fewer pair of running shoes this year, a savings of $90.


6. Significantly fewer impulse purchases at the Big Peach.


7. I can drink as many margaritas as I want on Friday nights.


8. I get a reprieve from the smell of Body Glide as it warms.


9. I actually have time to see my non-running friends.


10. No more getting up at 6am to beat the heat for Monday morning track workouts.


11. More time in the pool. And more even tan lines!


12. Did I mention Friday night margaritas?

Broken Bone, Broken Dreams

So, it appears that my Chicago journey is over almost as soon as it began. A trip to the podiatrist last week confirmed my suspicion--I have a metatarsal stress fracture, which requires six to eight weeks to heal as well as the addition of this sassy shoe to my wardrobe. Definitely my preferred footwear for 90 degree days!

I guess three half marathons in six months was too much for my poor feet, with their sassy bunions and hammertoes, both of which put more stress on my mid-foot. It's totally ironic that as soon as I became more accepting my new marathon-strong body, it broke down on me. And I know that I can't change the past, but I can't help wishing I'd had more calcium in my diet before age 21, that I had a more balanced, healthy diet even now and that I hadn't wasted my early 20's so consumed with what I looked like that I denied myself basic fuel and did irreparable damage to my body, and quite possibly my bones.

But I'm also looking forward. I'm wearing my "Kisses for Kate" bracelet, which reminds me that this is a minor setback, a drop in the bucket compared to what little Kate is going through--over two years of leukemia treatment, robbing her of innocence and a normal childhood. And while I can't run, I can do other things to keep my body strong, and I can continue in my quest to make healthier choices that will hopefully keep me running twenty years from now.

In the meantime, you can find me hobbling around in my Storm Trooper boot!

Sidelined

Ah, injuries. Pretty much standard for any marathoner. I'm lucky, in that I've been injury-free since last November, so it was only a matter of time before my body said "Hey! Enough! I need some rest!"

Perhaps it was a bit ambitious of me to dive into speedwork the day my plane touched the ground in Atlanta post-Anchorage, but running is addictive. It's hard to stop, especially with the training schedule taunting me on my refrigerator, and the knowledge that the hard work I've put in over the past three months has made me a stronger, faster runner. But I'm a firm believer that like colds, injuries are nature's stop signs, warning us to slow down before we do some serious physical harm.

Post-Peachtree, I managed a difficult speed workout (see previous post) and a brutal seven mile tempo run (courtesy of myself--there's a reason I avoid the Deering to Northside route!), then found my right foot searing with pain. The cause? Metatarsalgia, which is loosely translated as "pain at the top of the foot." Or, "it feels like someone dropped a table on the top of my foot, and it's hard to walk!" An overuse injury, probably not helped by my less-than-aesthetically pleasing feet (bunions and hammertoes, anyone?) or my high heels and flip flops, which Penelope berates us for in every single Pilates class. So, I made like a middle-aged woman and started wearing running shoes everywhere, including around the house in my underwear and pj's. And guess what--my feet feel better!

So, it's running shoes for me, with the exception of special occasions. I'm hoping I can get in an easy run mid-week, and then catch up to my schedule with a long run on Saturday.

In the meantime, you can find me padding down my hallways in my sneakers...

All in the Timing

This afternoon, I broke down and bought a sports watch. I don't even wear a regular watch (I can usually guess the time within ten minutes, plus, a watch doesn't really go with my carefree lifestyle), but I've been mooching off Tim's Garmin for far too long (Mom and Daddy, if you're reading, you know what to get me for my birthday this year!). That, and I'm now in week two of official Chicago training, and since my paces are a bit slower than his, I'm going to need something a bit reliable and more portable than my iPod, which seems to die about an hour into my workouts. This Timex Ironman watch can store up to 30 laps (and I pray I never need that many!).

Of course, I had to get TNT purple (well, lavender, really), and it worked pretty well for my track repeats today. I did 4 x 800 meter repeats at 9:16 pace. A strenuous workout in this heat. I was feeling nauseous in the end, about how I was feeling after running up Cardiac Hill during the Peachtree and smelling Mexican food (I love my El Azteca, but it is the worst possible thing to smell while running and hot). It was 90 degrees tonight, even at 6:30pm. Of course, I still prefer the heat to the cold.

Wednesday, it's a seven mile tempo run, followed by a fourteen miler on Friday, so I can enjoy Melissa's wedding in the Flo on Saturday. I'm stockpiling cheesy 80's music on my iPod, so feel free to send me your suggestions!

Peachtree!

For the seventh year in a row, I spent my 4th of July morning with 54,999 of my closest friends in the annual sprint down Peachtree Street. My past few Peachtrees have not been pleasant--I'd always run out of steam around mile four or five and in general, felt pretty unprepared. It's hard to believe, but last year, I didn't run a single mile in June.

This year, Team Bacon (aka, me and Angela), back from a successful half marathon in Alaska, took to the course with much energy and enthusiasm, passing and being passed by some of our fave TNTers--Beth, Mike, Maria, Natasha, Drea, Joanna, among many others. My dad (6o next month!) kept up with us until the end. I finished in just over an hour, a good twenty minutes faster than I did last year. And it felt fun. Remind me again why I don't stop with 6.2?

I then enjoyed lots of sangria and yummy grilled food and plenty of queso, courtesy of my sister and Brian. A happy 4th indeed.

Can't Kick This

When Angela and Craig first mentioned the kickball league to me, I thought they were crazy. I hate group sports. I'm the girl who ducked if a ball was thrown my way in gym class or on the playground. And the one who feigned cramps to get out of softball, basketball and every possible sport in gym class back in high school. Yes, I run marathons, but I also trip walking down the street.

But I decided to give it a try, recruiting friends from all across Atlanta. Meet "Kickin' It Old School," as in, it's been a long time since third grade kickball, and we probably weren't star players back in the day, with the exception of maybe Marc, Mike and Tim, who valliantly covered the outfield (among other positions) and at least gave us a chance to kick. And props to Team Hansberger and Mike for scoring our three runs, because 16-3 sounds a lot better than 16-0.

And in spite of the fact that I caught maybe two balls and never reached base, I was more sore this morning for speedwork than I was after my half marathon. Does kickball count as crosstraining?