I finally went to my first spinning class at the gym this morning. I picked up the group fitness schedule a couple weeks ago and marked today's class as the one I would join. I knew nobody, and the only thing I knew about the instructor was that his name is Rich. I hadn't sat on a stationary bike at the club yet, so I wanted to arrive early to figure out how to adjust everything and, more importantly, get a bike. The desk personnel told me that nearly every class has been packed, and that they had to turn people away more than once.
The class started at 5:30 AM, but I showed up at 4:55.
It was officially the earliest I had awoke since my son wasn't sleeping through the night, but getting out of bed was surprisingly easy. I didn't even get to bed until well after 11 PM either. It may have been that I've been psyching myself up over the class way too much. I'm not sure, but either way, as I type this, I'm still wide awake, and feeling good.
After walking through the main aerobic studio, past a middle-aged man performing martial arts in sweatpants and a polo shirt in front of the mirrored wall and exhaling very forcefully with every "strike," I opened the door to the spinning studio to find two other early risers. Both greeted me, even while warming up. Very welcoming and friendly so far.
From talking with friends that attend a class at a different club regularly, I knew that my mountain bike shoes with plain old SPD cleats would work with their pedal system. I was tempted to just wear my running shoes, but after trying a few pedal strokes, my shoes were way too soft, and I was sure that my feet would be really sore by the end of class. I dialed in the bike adjustments to shadow my road bike as best I could, and I actually think I got pretty close. I may have even discovered that I like my seat a little higher after trying a couple different comfortable heights.
I did my own light spinning while practicing changing the resistance and tried to relax a little from my new environment anxiety.
Soon, who I assumed was the instructor walked in and pulled a bike to the center of the room. The bikes were arranged in a semi-circle around the front and center of the room, with the sound system against the front wall. The instructor adjusted his bike quickly: Clink, clink, clink, and quickly grabbed a mixed CD from his bag. He is a middle-aged man, I'm guessing mid to late 50's, probably around 5'7" and around 150 pounds. He had a hat on and a very bright smile. He knew the other two cyclists on the other side of the room, and they began discussing a class they had last night.
Soon, there were about 10 of us all spinning slowly and going through our own warm-up routines. Not many people were talking, but almost everyone said hello as others strolled in.
Before I knew it, the room was packed, and every bike had a rider. The instructor hopped on his bike, turned on his mic, and started spinning crazily. I didn't see anyone copy his cadence, but he was cruising. He began guiding us through a very fast workout, probably 5 minutes total. Had I not showed up early, I probably wouldn't have warmed up entirely before starting the actual workout, but he probably took into account the fact that almost everyone there had been pedaling for 5 to 10 minutes already.
As we end the warm-up, Rich mentions that he is going to switch up his routine from the last couple weeks, and I hear a couple Uh oh's from behind me. I have no idea what this means, or the effect it's going to have on me, but I take their word that they have been showing up for the last couple weeks and are familiar with Rich's classes.
As luck would have it, being my very first group spinning class and all, Rich goes on to explain that he's going to throw a random hill climb workout at us today, with no warning of "hills" as we "approach" them.
He wasn't kidding either.
Something that I wasn't used to, nor good at on the real road, is standing and mashing the pedals. Well, instead of the typical interval workout that I've been doing in my basement, Rich's intervals consisted of alternating sitting and standing at a resistance where you are able to stand and pedal, but still be able to keep the cadence up. He called it jogging, but it felt more like a stair climb.
What I found most difficult about it was the fact that, unlike standing out of the saddle on the road bike, you can't pull the bike back and forth with your body, allowing you to keep your weight centered. On the stationary, you have to exert quite a bit of upper body strength to balance yourself while churning out the hills. I'm pretty sure my core muscles will be more sore than anything else due to this; not that it's a bad thing!
We did do a hill climb that was long and steady where we alternated sitting and standing with a higher cadence, also known as my preferred method for climbing.
Rich ended the workout rather abruptly, but gave everyone the option to keep going on their own cool down. Because he sprinted us to the finish, I needed to take a few minutes to wind down the heart rate. Most people just stopped and did a quick stretch. A few just hopped off and walked out without wiping down the bike or anything. Mental note for wiping everything down next week.
I felt that the workout was quite similar to being on the road, something that I was concerned about heading into it. The club posted a video of another class to get a glimpse of what goes on, and it seemed more like an aerobic class than a cycling class, pedaling to beats and yelling and counting. I won't discount that type of workout yet, as I haven't done it, but I do picture myself liking Rich's format a little more.
Another positive: just having someone tell you to do something that burns makes a big difference in how hard you push yourself. I knew this before. Really I did. But I thought I was able to push myself hard enough at home by myself. I'd feel the burn, go a little harder, then a little longer, then recover. But Rich, oh man. I was burning 5 minutes into the ride, and then he made us go harder. It was great. He even put mental images in our head of chasing down the leader of the pack in a group and racing to the next telephone pole up the hill; things that can be parlayed out onto the road quite easily.
I'm already looking forward to next week, and am actually tempted to grab a class early Saturday morning. But I think I'll pass this week to let my body soak it in a little more.
I also need to see how I feel tomorrow morning; the true litmus test of physical ability.
Non-Statistically Significant Evidence to Support the Theory of Addiction to Exercise-Induced Endorphin Release
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Securian Frozen Half Marathon, St. Paul, MN - Race Report - 24 Jan 2009
3:30 PM - Day before the race. Receive an email from the race director informing all pre-registered racers that the race has been shortened to half the distance due to the extreme weather forecast. Reports were coming in of overnight temperatures in double-digits below zero Fahrenheit, with added wind chill factors making it feel well below -25.
So the race course is now a 1/4 marathon, or basically a 10K (10.25 to be exact). I find this somewhat disappointing as I've been mentally preparing for a big challenge. But deep down, like every other race I've ever done, I feel that I probably haven't trained as much as I should have to meet my goal of better than an 8:30 pace for the 13.1 miles, and it will probably be more enjoyable this way.
On the way home from work, I stop at the gym for a quick dip and stretch in the hot tub to loosen up a tight groin from hockey earlier in the week. Head home and have a healthy supper of macaroni and cheese and hot dogs.
6:30 AM - Morning of the race. Alarm goes off and I only hit snooze once, then roll out and take a hot shower to wake up and warm the body up for the last time until after the race. The race starts at 9:00, and I need to drop off my son at the in-laws as my wife works nights and needs to go to bed when she gets home at 8:00 AM.
I eat some toast with peanut butter, with a small glass of milk, and another glass of grape juice. Son has his eggo waffles and we get dressed and head out the door.
7:30 AM - Arrive at the in-laws. Plans were to meet my brother-in-law there and I'd drive to the start of the race. Father-in-law offers to drop us off at the starting line. I decline at first, as I had some plans for after the race to meet some people at the Bulldog for some post race beers. He insists saying that I'll never find a parking spot. Not being in the mood to argue, I accept...at which point he heads downstairs to shower. Not in the playbook, and definitely not excited about his decision.
7:51 AM - Morning news reports a temperature of -11 degrees F, with a 10-15 mph wind out of the northwest.
8:00 AM - Original planned arrival time to the race. Actual time that my father-in-law turns off the shower.
8:10 AM - Habitually late brother-in-law strolls in.
8:15 AM - Actual time of departure from in-laws.
8:40 AM - Arrive at the race packet pick-up in the Securian building. No lines, swift pick-up and pin on the race bib without any snags.
8:45 AM - Head to an upper level of the Securian Building Atrium to get above the cold drafts to stretch lightly. I decide to buy a race t-shirt now, instead of after the race. I like the technical shirts that most races offer now, so I find it hard to pass them up.
Pull the shirt on over my under shirt, put my jacket back on and start the layer finalization.
8:52 AM - Race announcement stating 8 minutes until race time. I strap on my face covering (a small fleece scarf with velcro enclosures; I really like it!) and pull on the mittens.
8:54 AM - Start walking towards the door to head to the starting line. Surprised to see so many people staying inside until the last minute.
8:59 AM - Standing about 50 feet back from the starting line. Look around and notice the herd of people just starting to come out to the line. There's no way they'll line up in time.
9:00 AM - No gun. Race director decides to wait for the late-comers. My biggest pet peeve of mass races: waiting for people to line up. Especially when it's below zero. Everyone is starting to hop and shuffle trying to keep warm. I start to feel my toes go cold.
9:06 AM - Horn finally sounds for the start, and, of course, the accordion effect happens three times before we actually spread out and start running.
After crossing the starting line, we run about a block before approaching a steep downhill to Shepard Road. Because it's an out-and-back course, it's nice to see the monster that awaits us in the final quarter mile. Well, nice might not be the word I'm looking for...
View of the hill, looking out from the starting line to where the front of the pack drops off down the hill in front. Picture taken by my friend Jimmy:
The field spreads out very nicely within the first mile. Unlike most races, it seems like most everyone is calculating their pace accurately. Nobody sprinted all out at the start, and nobody seems to be dropping or passing noticeably.
Mile Marker 1 - Exactly 7:50 on my watch, and the pace is very comfortable. I notice that my toes are still cold, and my shoes seem very hard from the temperature. I occasionally curl my toes trying to get the blood flowing again. I chose to wear only one pair of socks, as I usually get blisters on my arches wearing any more. I begin to think that this may have been the only mistake in my attire.
Mile Marker 2 - There isn't a mile marker in sight, but judging from our pace I'm pretty sure of where it should be. I'm assuming a solid 8-minute pace, and the watch just turned 16:00. My toes actually warmed up, and I feel myself starting to sweat a little more. Overall, I feel pretty comfortable. The only skin that was exposed was the bridge of my nose and my eyelids, and those feel warm as well...except for the ice forming on my eyelashes. We were running west on Shepard road, therefore directly into the wind. The cold was causing my eyes to water a little, and the tears were freezing before they could even reach my cheeks. I didn't dare rub my eyes, so I just let the crystals form.
Mile Marker 3 - The race leaders pass us on their way back after the turn around. We clap, cheering them on. They look so cool and make each stride seem effortless. We can see the turn-around approaching, and veer to the left of the road so as to avoid the sweeping turn of everyone else. We confirm with each other that we're not stopping for water, so our move to the left was even more justified as the water stop was to the right. I notice a race volunteer throwing sand down after the water stop. It had already become an ice slick from spilled water. Solid ice about 3 feet wide and 20 feet long. Glad we moved left.
There aren't any mile markers for the remainder of the race. Because we were no longer running into the wind, I thought it should be okay to pull down my face covering to expose my nose and free up my airway a little. I decide to keep my mouth covered to keep my lungs from burning completely with the cold air. The fleece had frozen solid with frost, and I couldn't really move the scarf that much without taking it off completely.
We pass the turnaround for the 5K race, so that makes 1.5 miles left. Our pace has held steady, so we kicked it down just a little for the last mile.
As we approach the monster hill, many people just stop running to walk it. Nobody moves over, so we sidestep a few people and chug our way to the top. It actually felt steeper running down, and I was pleasantly surprised how good I felt on my tip toes running up. My calves were definitely burning when I reached the top, and I didn't feel up to exerting a kick to cross the finish.
The final block is always the best part of any running race. This one in particular, because there weren't more than 50 people along the rest of the course cheering...including volunteers. There were actually quite a few people cheering at the line, and the music was blaring. The race announcer was calling off names of people as they crossed the line. I'm not sure if mine was called or not, but I think I crossed with a small group of people, so I doubt it.
I waddle through the finish chute to get my timing chip clipped off of my shoe. There were about 6 or 7 people on the ground ready to clip, and they were spread out nicely so there wasn't any wait. I hate it when there's a back up of racers just steps from the finish line for something trivial like the race chips.
On a side note: the race chips used in this race were different from any I had ever used before. They were just like a small credit card (about half the size of a normal credit card) and had four holes so you could zip-tie them to your shoe. They were very convenient, and were a lot lighter than the normal circular magnets that I've used before.
My brother-in-law's phone goes off just after we cross, and it's my father-in-law calling to see where we're at. He can't hear himself talk as we're standing directly in front of the speakers, so to resolve the problem, he hands me the phone to talk to him, like I can hear better or something.
I utter something, still trying to catch my breath from the hill climb, and lean against a building to stop and talk and arrange a pick-up. We agree on a spot and I lean forward to start walking, but my hat and shoulder both froze to the marble facade of the Securian sky scraper. It was kind of funny, but I pulled off pretty easily and went inside to grab the post race goodies.
Upon entering, I start to unwrap some layers. I peel off my face covering, and it stays molded in the shape of my face. I turn it over, and my BIL immediately turns away. There's about an inch-long snotcicle hanging off of the mold of my nose. It was kind of awesome if you ask me.
I try to unzip my jacket, but all my zippers were frozen solid. We wander around the line, pick up our mugs and grab a few complimentary energy bars and bottles of water and head out to meet my FIL. He couldn't get any closer than a couple blocks from the finish due to the road being closed and one-ways, so we just decide to walk out to him.
While we're walking, I feel my hat and mittens refreeze. It felt a lot colder now that my heart rate had lowered, and I could really feel the wind biting through my jacket.
We find him parked illegally on the corner of a nearby intersection waiting for us. The warmth is refreshing. We head back to the in-laws place and my FIL makes us some excellent scrambled eggs and my son eats a PB&J with us for lunch.
I decide to change quick and run back up to downtown to meet a few people for a beer at the Bulldog, as my original plan could still be salvaged. I was delighted to find a free parking spot right on the street in downtown, just two blocks from the bar. My friends were there, and I enjoyed a delicious red beer (can't remember the name of it though, unfortunately).
I really enjoyed this race, and plan to do it again next year. It was very well organized, and could accomodate a much larger number of racers. It's a very nice route on a divided highway type of road, with a generally flat (except for the hill at the start/finish) and well taken care of road. Runners utilize both sides of the median, so it never feels crowded along the route at all. Not much scenery despite the fact that you follow the river. Had we run the full course, we would have gotten a little more of the riverside. But then again, it was pretty hard to see anything other than the road directly in front of my feet with ice covered eyelashes.
I'll post more photos soon.
Race summary:
Weather: Partly cloudy. -15 F official race temp. 10-15 mph wind.
Total distance: 10.25k (13.1 miles shortened to ~6.5 miles due to extreme weather)
Race time: 50:28
Race pace: 7:56
Place: 239 of 663
So the race course is now a 1/4 marathon, or basically a 10K (10.25 to be exact). I find this somewhat disappointing as I've been mentally preparing for a big challenge. But deep down, like every other race I've ever done, I feel that I probably haven't trained as much as I should have to meet my goal of better than an 8:30 pace for the 13.1 miles, and it will probably be more enjoyable this way.
On the way home from work, I stop at the gym for a quick dip and stretch in the hot tub to loosen up a tight groin from hockey earlier in the week. Head home and have a healthy supper of macaroni and cheese and hot dogs.
6:30 AM - Morning of the race. Alarm goes off and I only hit snooze once, then roll out and take a hot shower to wake up and warm the body up for the last time until after the race. The race starts at 9:00, and I need to drop off my son at the in-laws as my wife works nights and needs to go to bed when she gets home at 8:00 AM.
I eat some toast with peanut butter, with a small glass of milk, and another glass of grape juice. Son has his eggo waffles and we get dressed and head out the door.
7:30 AM - Arrive at the in-laws. Plans were to meet my brother-in-law there and I'd drive to the start of the race. Father-in-law offers to drop us off at the starting line. I decline at first, as I had some plans for after the race to meet some people at the Bulldog for some post race beers. He insists saying that I'll never find a parking spot. Not being in the mood to argue, I accept...at which point he heads downstairs to shower. Not in the playbook, and definitely not excited about his decision.
7:51 AM - Morning news reports a temperature of -11 degrees F, with a 10-15 mph wind out of the northwest.
8:00 AM - Original planned arrival time to the race. Actual time that my father-in-law turns off the shower.
8:10 AM - Habitually late brother-in-law strolls in.
8:15 AM - Actual time of departure from in-laws.
8:40 AM - Arrive at the race packet pick-up in the Securian building. No lines, swift pick-up and pin on the race bib without any snags.
8:45 AM - Head to an upper level of the Securian Building Atrium to get above the cold drafts to stretch lightly. I decide to buy a race t-shirt now, instead of after the race. I like the technical shirts that most races offer now, so I find it hard to pass them up.
Pull the shirt on over my under shirt, put my jacket back on and start the layer finalization.
8:52 AM - Race announcement stating 8 minutes until race time. I strap on my face covering (a small fleece scarf with velcro enclosures; I really like it!) and pull on the mittens.
8:54 AM - Start walking towards the door to head to the starting line. Surprised to see so many people staying inside until the last minute.
8:59 AM - Standing about 50 feet back from the starting line. Look around and notice the herd of people just starting to come out to the line. There's no way they'll line up in time.
9:00 AM - No gun. Race director decides to wait for the late-comers. My biggest pet peeve of mass races: waiting for people to line up. Especially when it's below zero. Everyone is starting to hop and shuffle trying to keep warm. I start to feel my toes go cold.
9:06 AM - Horn finally sounds for the start, and, of course, the accordion effect happens three times before we actually spread out and start running.
After crossing the starting line, we run about a block before approaching a steep downhill to Shepard Road. Because it's an out-and-back course, it's nice to see the monster that awaits us in the final quarter mile. Well, nice might not be the word I'm looking for...
View of the hill, looking out from the starting line to where the front of the pack drops off down the hill in front. Picture taken by my friend Jimmy:
The field spreads out very nicely within the first mile. Unlike most races, it seems like most everyone is calculating their pace accurately. Nobody sprinted all out at the start, and nobody seems to be dropping or passing noticeably.
Mile Marker 1 - Exactly 7:50 on my watch, and the pace is very comfortable. I notice that my toes are still cold, and my shoes seem very hard from the temperature. I occasionally curl my toes trying to get the blood flowing again. I chose to wear only one pair of socks, as I usually get blisters on my arches wearing any more. I begin to think that this may have been the only mistake in my attire.
Mile Marker 2 - There isn't a mile marker in sight, but judging from our pace I'm pretty sure of where it should be. I'm assuming a solid 8-minute pace, and the watch just turned 16:00. My toes actually warmed up, and I feel myself starting to sweat a little more. Overall, I feel pretty comfortable. The only skin that was exposed was the bridge of my nose and my eyelids, and those feel warm as well...except for the ice forming on my eyelashes. We were running west on Shepard road, therefore directly into the wind. The cold was causing my eyes to water a little, and the tears were freezing before they could even reach my cheeks. I didn't dare rub my eyes, so I just let the crystals form.
Mile Marker 3 - The race leaders pass us on their way back after the turn around. We clap, cheering them on. They look so cool and make each stride seem effortless. We can see the turn-around approaching, and veer to the left of the road so as to avoid the sweeping turn of everyone else. We confirm with each other that we're not stopping for water, so our move to the left was even more justified as the water stop was to the right. I notice a race volunteer throwing sand down after the water stop. It had already become an ice slick from spilled water. Solid ice about 3 feet wide and 20 feet long. Glad we moved left.
There aren't any mile markers for the remainder of the race. Because we were no longer running into the wind, I thought it should be okay to pull down my face covering to expose my nose and free up my airway a little. I decide to keep my mouth covered to keep my lungs from burning completely with the cold air. The fleece had frozen solid with frost, and I couldn't really move the scarf that much without taking it off completely.
We pass the turnaround for the 5K race, so that makes 1.5 miles left. Our pace has held steady, so we kicked it down just a little for the last mile.
As we approach the monster hill, many people just stop running to walk it. Nobody moves over, so we sidestep a few people and chug our way to the top. It actually felt steeper running down, and I was pleasantly surprised how good I felt on my tip toes running up. My calves were definitely burning when I reached the top, and I didn't feel up to exerting a kick to cross the finish.
The final block is always the best part of any running race. This one in particular, because there weren't more than 50 people along the rest of the course cheering...including volunteers. There were actually quite a few people cheering at the line, and the music was blaring. The race announcer was calling off names of people as they crossed the line. I'm not sure if mine was called or not, but I think I crossed with a small group of people, so I doubt it.
I waddle through the finish chute to get my timing chip clipped off of my shoe. There were about 6 or 7 people on the ground ready to clip, and they were spread out nicely so there wasn't any wait. I hate it when there's a back up of racers just steps from the finish line for something trivial like the race chips.
On a side note: the race chips used in this race were different from any I had ever used before. They were just like a small credit card (about half the size of a normal credit card) and had four holes so you could zip-tie them to your shoe. They were very convenient, and were a lot lighter than the normal circular magnets that I've used before.
My brother-in-law's phone goes off just after we cross, and it's my father-in-law calling to see where we're at. He can't hear himself talk as we're standing directly in front of the speakers, so to resolve the problem, he hands me the phone to talk to him, like I can hear better or something.
I utter something, still trying to catch my breath from the hill climb, and lean against a building to stop and talk and arrange a pick-up. We agree on a spot and I lean forward to start walking, but my hat and shoulder both froze to the marble facade of the Securian sky scraper. It was kind of funny, but I pulled off pretty easily and went inside to grab the post race goodies.
Upon entering, I start to unwrap some layers. I peel off my face covering, and it stays molded in the shape of my face. I turn it over, and my BIL immediately turns away. There's about an inch-long snotcicle hanging off of the mold of my nose. It was kind of awesome if you ask me.
I try to unzip my jacket, but all my zippers were frozen solid. We wander around the line, pick up our mugs and grab a few complimentary energy bars and bottles of water and head out to meet my FIL. He couldn't get any closer than a couple blocks from the finish due to the road being closed and one-ways, so we just decide to walk out to him.
While we're walking, I feel my hat and mittens refreeze. It felt a lot colder now that my heart rate had lowered, and I could really feel the wind biting through my jacket.
We find him parked illegally on the corner of a nearby intersection waiting for us. The warmth is refreshing. We head back to the in-laws place and my FIL makes us some excellent scrambled eggs and my son eats a PB&J with us for lunch.
I decide to change quick and run back up to downtown to meet a few people for a beer at the Bulldog, as my original plan could still be salvaged. I was delighted to find a free parking spot right on the street in downtown, just two blocks from the bar. My friends were there, and I enjoyed a delicious red beer (can't remember the name of it though, unfortunately).
I really enjoyed this race, and plan to do it again next year. It was very well organized, and could accomodate a much larger number of racers. It's a very nice route on a divided highway type of road, with a generally flat (except for the hill at the start/finish) and well taken care of road. Runners utilize both sides of the median, so it never feels crowded along the route at all. Not much scenery despite the fact that you follow the river. Had we run the full course, we would have gotten a little more of the riverside. But then again, it was pretty hard to see anything other than the road directly in front of my feet with ice covered eyelashes.
I'll post more photos soon.
Race summary:
Weather: Partly cloudy. -15 F official race temp. 10-15 mph wind.
Total distance: 10.25k (13.1 miles shortened to ~6.5 miles due to extreme weather)
Race time: 50:28
Race pace: 7:56
Place: 239 of 663
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Frozen Half Marathon
As I walked into my garage this morning to start my car, my digital thermometer read -26 degrees F. My car started just fine, unlike a few others at the office today. Several had frozen batteries. Others just needed to wait for a jump start to turn over the crank shafts. A few others had to stay home with children as most of the schools in Minnesota are closed due to the cold. That's right, not a snow day, or ice, or wind. It's just plain too cold to be outside.
So what a great time to register for an outdoor running race!
I've been planning on doing it for a few months, but I made it official today by registering online for the Frozen Half Marathon in St. Paul.
As I've said before, I have run a couple marathons, and my last solo race (outside of the triathlon and RAGNAR Relay last summer) was a half marathon at Grandma's Marathon in 2007. I paced at 8:30 miles then, and that's what I'm shooting for next weekend again.
I will admit, I haven't run nearly as much as I think I should have. I run, on average, about 4 miles a week. My longest run in the last year was 8.5 miles, and that was back in September.
My total distance during RAGNAR (last August) was about 14 miles, split out over three legs, so I know I have the distance in me. I truly feel that dividing up the mileage over three separate runs over 48 hours was a lot more difficult that running it all at once as well, so I think this should go smoothly.
My reasoning for not running high mileage: I have been cycling on the trainer 2-3 times a week; rotating random interval workouts with 1-2 hour high tempo spins.
I've also done something that I said I wouldn't do again: joined a gym. I joined primarily for the use of the pool, to be honest. I really want to improve my overall cardiovascular fitness, and I saw major benefits last year after just 3 months in the pool, twice a week, 25 minutes sessions. Everything from lung capacity, to anaerobic threshold during short runs improved dramatically last year, and I want to build up a base again and try to work swimming into my weekly routine full time. My first triathlon of the year is slated for June 14, so I have a while before my first swimming race, but I just wanted to get my butt in there and start earlier and get the routine down so I can really put the hammer down this year early in the race and cut a few minutes off.
I'm currently compiling my list of annoying and disgusting observations that I've had in my first week back in the gym, so I'll save that rant for another post, but I will say that, deep down, I missed going to a gym, and am very happy that I signed up again.
My third day in the gym, I did another thing I said I'd avoid with all my might: run on a treadmill.
After just one mile, I immediately remembered why I said I'd never do it again. The clunking with every step; trying to find that right pace setting with slippery buttons; being surrounded by a bunch of other people's clunking footsteps; and most importantly: it's friggin' hot without a fan and not being able to take off your shirt. It's got to be at least 78 degrees in the cardio room, then add all the respiration and perspiration from all the new year's resolution people (item number one of my upcoming list of observations, btw) and it makes for an overly sweaty run. I'm talking steam room sweaty.
I ended up running just 3 miles on the treadmill, and tried another 3 two days later. I came to the conclusion that I'd much rather endure the cold and ice covered sidewalks for my runs. I'm pretty sure I have all the necessary clothes for the 2 hour run next weekend. The one thing I still need to pick up is something to cover my face should the temperature stick around below zero. Anything out of the single digits (above zero) and I can get away without a face covering, but the race starts at 9 am, so I just want to have my bases covered should there be a long wait at the starting line or something.
I haven't been outside for anything but running though lately, and there isn't anything else to report on other than the slow build up of training that I'm planning in the next couple weeks in preparation for spring.
I'll be sure to post a race report of the Frozen Half after I cross the line. I'm hoping there will be someone to take pics, 'cuz as the saying goes, "Pictures, or it didn't happen."
The good news is that I'm planning a small gathering near the finish, and this will be the picture in my head as snot freezes to my upper lip:
There is a possibility that the only pictures you'll see will be me holding a pint of a yummy wheat beer, but I'll do my best to post actual evidence of my pursuit of endorphin release.
So what a great time to register for an outdoor running race!
I've been planning on doing it for a few months, but I made it official today by registering online for the Frozen Half Marathon in St. Paul.
As I've said before, I have run a couple marathons, and my last solo race (outside of the triathlon and RAGNAR Relay last summer) was a half marathon at Grandma's Marathon in 2007. I paced at 8:30 miles then, and that's what I'm shooting for next weekend again.
I will admit, I haven't run nearly as much as I think I should have. I run, on average, about 4 miles a week. My longest run in the last year was 8.5 miles, and that was back in September.
My total distance during RAGNAR (last August) was about 14 miles, split out over three legs, so I know I have the distance in me. I truly feel that dividing up the mileage over three separate runs over 48 hours was a lot more difficult that running it all at once as well, so I think this should go smoothly.
My reasoning for not running high mileage: I have been cycling on the trainer 2-3 times a week; rotating random interval workouts with 1-2 hour high tempo spins.
I've also done something that I said I wouldn't do again: joined a gym. I joined primarily for the use of the pool, to be honest. I really want to improve my overall cardiovascular fitness, and I saw major benefits last year after just 3 months in the pool, twice a week, 25 minutes sessions. Everything from lung capacity, to anaerobic threshold during short runs improved dramatically last year, and I want to build up a base again and try to work swimming into my weekly routine full time. My first triathlon of the year is slated for June 14, so I have a while before my first swimming race, but I just wanted to get my butt in there and start earlier and get the routine down so I can really put the hammer down this year early in the race and cut a few minutes off.
I'm currently compiling my list of annoying and disgusting observations that I've had in my first week back in the gym, so I'll save that rant for another post, but I will say that, deep down, I missed going to a gym, and am very happy that I signed up again.
My third day in the gym, I did another thing I said I'd avoid with all my might: run on a treadmill.
After just one mile, I immediately remembered why I said I'd never do it again. The clunking with every step; trying to find that right pace setting with slippery buttons; being surrounded by a bunch of other people's clunking footsteps; and most importantly: it's friggin' hot without a fan and not being able to take off your shirt. It's got to be at least 78 degrees in the cardio room, then add all the respiration and perspiration from all the new year's resolution people (item number one of my upcoming list of observations, btw) and it makes for an overly sweaty run. I'm talking steam room sweaty.
I ended up running just 3 miles on the treadmill, and tried another 3 two days later. I came to the conclusion that I'd much rather endure the cold and ice covered sidewalks for my runs. I'm pretty sure I have all the necessary clothes for the 2 hour run next weekend. The one thing I still need to pick up is something to cover my face should the temperature stick around below zero. Anything out of the single digits (above zero) and I can get away without a face covering, but the race starts at 9 am, so I just want to have my bases covered should there be a long wait at the starting line or something.
I haven't been outside for anything but running though lately, and there isn't anything else to report on other than the slow build up of training that I'm planning in the next couple weeks in preparation for spring.
I'll be sure to post a race report of the Frozen Half after I cross the line. I'm hoping there will be someone to take pics, 'cuz as the saying goes, "Pictures, or it didn't happen."
The good news is that I'm planning a small gathering near the finish, and this will be the picture in my head as snot freezes to my upper lip:
There is a possibility that the only pictures you'll see will be me holding a pint of a yummy wheat beer, but I'll do my best to post actual evidence of my pursuit of endorphin release.
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