50 marathons in 50 days

I just finished reading “50/50: Secrets I Learned Running 50 Marathons in 50 Days – and How You Too Can Achieve Super Endurance” by Dean Karnazes. He’s a totally amazing badass runner who ran, as you may have guessed from the title, 50 marathons in 50 days – in 50 different states. He’s also done the Western States 100, the Badwater (a 135-miler through Death Valley) and a 199-mile relay as a solo runner. Holy crap.

I also found out that he really didn’t start running serious distances until he was 30 years old. He ran as a kid – he tells a story about how he used to run home from kindergarten and gradually started lengthening his route because he loved it so much – and did cross country in high school. If I remember right, he completed a marathon before he was 15, but he had a bad experience with a coach and stopped running altogether shortly thereafter.

He was still totally active in his teens and 20s, but not with running. Then he had some kind of epiphany on his 30^th birthday and headed out for a run after a night out drinking. And I mean immediately after: he came home from the bar, laced up his yardwork sneakers, and headed out. He ended up running all night, something like 28 miles – can you imagine, after not running any distance of consequence for 15 years? – and that kick-started his running obsession. Now he’s a total running maniac, obviously.

Probably needless to say, I was pretty riveted by the book. There were lots of bits that felt particularly useful and/or inspiring to me, so I thought I’d transcribe them for posterity (please note that all boldface type is my emphasis):

• injuredrunner.com -- a good resource to identify and treat common running injuries.

• "While running a race in Portugal, I noticed that the spectators along the course kept shouting the same phrase over and over: 'Quem corre por gosto, não cansa.' Afterward I asked someone to tell me what it meant. 'Who runs for pleasure never gets tired,' I was told."

• "In recent years, steep hill sprints have become popular in the elite ranks of distance running. Of course, they're beneficial for runners of every level. To do them, find the steepest hill around and sprint up it at maximum effort for just ten to twelve seconds. Walk back down and repeat a few times. Try to work up to six to eight reps per outing. Steep hill sprints help build a more powerful stride, and also reduce injury risk by strengthening the running muscles."

• (Note from Anna: I so want to try this -- it's my fantasy to do it this summer if my plantar fasciitis lets up.) "The legendary running couch Jeff Galloway has probably trained more first-time marathoners than anyone. Jeff is a hero of mine and teaches a unique training system that includes regular, brief walking breaks. He's also among the few running coaches who encourage runners training for a marathon to do training runs exceeding 26.2 miles in distance (including the walking breaks). Beginners who follow this advice report that the walking breaks make these 'overdistance' workouts perfectly manageable (provided they do them toward the end of the training process, when they're already pretty fit) and that they're great confidence builders.

I recommend a slight modification to Jeff's approach that I simply call runabout. Inspired by the Australian Aboriginal practice of walkabout, it works like this: After you've put in some good training and built a fairly high level of baseline fitness, pick a weekend morning to set out the door with a running pack containing a credit card, a cell phone, and some fluid and snacks -- maybe also a map or a GPS if you want to get really sophisticated. Choose a direction (say, north) and start running. Keep running until you feel like taking a break. You can jog, walk or hike -- just try to stay on your feet. When you're ready for some more running, go for it. If you see a Starbucks and feel like a latte, stop and grab one. Stick a straw in it and drink as you run.

Try to make a complete day of it. Don't worry about how many miles you actually run. Focus on staying on your feet and on moving forward one way or another, whether it's by running, hiking or walking, for six to eight hours. Mostly, have fun. Not only will you get a great workout and build confidence for an upcoming marathon, but a runabout is also just an interesting way to spend a day.

Personally, I particularly enjoy starting before sunrise and finishing after sunset. Rarely in our modern society do we spend an entire day outside, and there's just something enchanting about watching a day go by from the exterior of a building rather than locked inside."

• Here's what Dean had to say about loss of motivation, and getting yourself out the door for a run: "I face motivation killers just like every other runner. My way of dealing with them is very simple. Psychologists call it projection. Nonpsychologists might call it laying a guilt trip on yourself! I simply think about how much better I will surely feel after running, and I ask myself, 'Do you really want to pass that up?' Over the course of the past 15 years, I have run more than five thousand times. Not once have I ever felt worse after finishing a run than I did before I started. I always feel better after a run. My knowledge of this fact is a great motivator. Whenever I find myself tempted to skip a run for a dubious reason such as bad weather, I just remind myself of that wonderful post-run feeling, and moments later I am out the door. Give it a try. If you're anything like me, you'll be pleased with the results."

• "A convenient way to monitor your recovery status is to take your pulse first thing each morning. A pulse rate that is above normal suggests that your body is still working to recover from a recent workout and may require additional rest." (Note from Anna: of course, this assumes that you know your average resting heart rate. I just started taking mine this morning ... I plan to do it every day for a while so I can get a sense of what's usual for me.)

• "According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. the following 20 foods are excellent sources of antioxidants -- nature's recovery potion: small read beans (also called Mexican red beans), blueberries, red kidney beans, pinto beans, kiwi fruit, cranberries, artichokes, blackberries, prunes, raspberries, strawberries, Red Delicious apples, Granny Smith apples, pecans, sweet cherries, black plums, broccoli, black beans, plums, Gala apples."

• "Maintaing a diet that's rich in antioxidants and omega-3 fats will help your muscles recover faster after runs. Large amounts of free radicals are released from damaged muscle cells through the inflammation process after runs. These free radicals cause additional tissue damage, which may explain why you may feel sorer one or two days after a hard run than you do immediately afterward. Fruits and vegetables are full of antioxidants your body can use to neutralize free radicals and help limit post-run muscle damage. Omega-3 fats aid in the production of anti-inflammatory compounds that boost the muscle repair process between runs. Good sources of omega-3 fats are salmon, flaxseeds and fish oil supplements."

• runnersworld.com has, in Dean's opinion, one of the better calculators that can help project marathon time based on time for a shorter distance.

• "I enjoy the challenge of overcoming the pain and suffering of extreme bodily fatigue in my quest to explore how far the human body can go. The thrill I get from testing my mental toughness on the run isn't really much different from the kick others get from testing other strengths, from the ability to shoot a perfect round of golf to the ability to express impassioned emotions through music. The harder I push myself in a run, the more satisfied I am afterward. And it's the same for most runners. Giving 95 percent effort in an event leaves you feeling a little hollow. But when you're hanging out with friends or family, drinking water and stretching after finishing an event in which you know you left it all out there, the feeling of pride and accomplishment can't be beat. You did your best; you gave it everything you had."

• "I believe mental toughness comes from your conscious willingness to push aside pain. You can't change your genes or your childhood experiences, but you can control your ability to tolerate increasing discomfort and pain when running hard. Building mental toughness really comes down to saying yes with your heart when your body says no, and getting the job done despite the pain."

• "Some runners find that performing technique drills helps them improve their running form. Here's a selection of technique drills to try:

Butt Kicks: Run in place for 30 seconds with your thighs locked in a neutral position and try to kick your butt with your heel on each stride.

High Knees: Run in place for 30 seconds, lifting your knee as high as possible on each stride.

One-Legged Run: Run (hop) on one leg for twenty strides, then switch to the other leg for twenty more."

• To correct overstriding, which is the most common technique error that causes running injuries according to Dean, you must shorten your stride: "Instead of extending your leg ahead of your body and landing heel-first with our foot well in front of your hips, consciously drop your foot to the ground directly underneath your hips. Leaning slightly forward, not at the waist but from the ankles, might help you make this adjustment more easily. At first, it will probably feel strange. Keep at it and soon enough your new stride will be second nature."

• "When the early onset of fatigue causes you to have serious doubts about whether you can finish a run, try not to give in to these doubts. Instead, buy some time for a second wind. How do you do that? First, slow down, or even walk. Second, reflect back on any previous experiences when you felt just as bad as you do now, but still managed to get through it, and remind yourself, 'If I could do it then, there's hope.' Finally, don't allow yourself to quit until you've gone at least one step farther than you thought you could go when your doubts emerged." (Note from Anna: I wish this had been fresh in my mind yesterday.)

• "Sometimes quitting is necessary. However, you don’t want to quit with that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that perhaps you could have finished after all, if only you hadn’t given up too soon. One way to avoid this scenario is to make the commitment that you won’t stop until the course is officially closed. If you commit to keep going until the course is closed, rather than quitting before time runs out, you will go home with a confident certainty that you truly gave it you all.”

• "Some people have the wrong idea about second winds, just as they do about the mythical runner’s high. A second wind will not necessarily make running easy; it just help you continue running hard. It will still hurt. If you pace yourself appropriately and apportion your effort well, your second wind can carry you a measurable distance, maybe even to your stopping point, be it a finish line or your front door. You can’t always count on a second wind. Some days you just have to put your head down and grind it out. Those runs can be the most satisfying ones of all.”

• "Many runners operate with a tacit belief that if they don’t have at least 25 or 30 minutes available to run, it’s not even worth bothering to lace up their shoes. That’s not true. An aggressive 10-minute run is worth the effort. You can burn more than 150 calories in a hard 10-minute run, which is also long enough to make a measurable difference in terms of how you feel for the rest of the day. Plus, 10-minute blocks add up quickly. If you do a 10-minute run instead of saying ‘Aww, forget it,’ once every week, you will complete 13 more hours of running over the course of a year – enough to prevent roughly four pounds of weight gain and produce a measurable increase in your cardiovascular health and fitness.

• "Adaptability is critical to success in running. Each runner is unique. There is no single formula for running success that works equally well for everyone. Some runners are naturally speedy and struggle to build endurance; others are the opposite. Some runners are injury-resistant, others are injury-prone. Some runners recover quickly from hard workouts while others take longer. To continually improve as a runner, try to really tune in to how your body responds to training and continuously evolve your training methods accordingly. As Charles Darwin has written, ‘It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.’ ”

• "As your running progresses and evolves, try to never lose sight of running for the sheer enjoyment of it. Kids sometimes ask me who the best runner is. ‘The best runner,’ I tell them, ‘is the one who’s having the most fun.’ ”

• "One of the best way to adapt your training for improved performance is to identify and attack a weak link in your fitness. Most runners have a clear sense of their greatest fitness weakness. Usually it’s one of three things: lack of speed, lack of endurance, or lack of race fitness (or the ability to sustain faster speeds for prolonged periods of time). Addressing your fitness weaknesses is simple. If your primary weakness is lack of speed, include more high-intensity intervals in your future training. This might come at the expense of duration (going faster for a shorter distance) in the short term, but building speed may boost your cardiovascular fitness to such a degree that your endurance ultimately gets a lift, as well. If your primary weakness is lack of endurance, include more long endurance workouts in your future training. Maybe try dual daily workouts to achieve this end. Running twice a day sometimes makes it easier to build your endurance. And if your primary weakness is lack of race fitness, a great way to work on this quality is to include shorter-distance races as training runs. For instance, if you’re training for a half-marathon, sign up for some 10k races beforehand to build your race fitness. If your goal is a marathon, enter a couple half-marathons beforehand as fast training runs.

Superfeet, who knew?

Oh Superfeet, I love you.

This post is a love song to Superfeet. I know I talked about them in my last post but I want to devote this entire space to Superfeet and how much better they make me feel.

Not necessarily in my running shoes -- although they are quite nice. (And no, I'm not running, I'm Mrs. Elliptical/Sporadic Stairclimber right now. I'm using the term "running shoes" generically, to apply to the shoes I wear when I'm exercising and not running, which is the story of my current life.)

When I really feel the love for Superfeet is when I'm wearing regular old flats or Converse sneakers or any of the many pairs of shoes I own and love that offer absolutely zero support. I thought I was going to have to let them all gather dust and stare at them mournfully while I donned goofy old lady shoes with tons of built-in support ... wrong, wrong, wrong!

God bless the Nordstrom salesperson who told me about the Superfeet street shoe inserts. That's probably not the correct term, but that's what they are: inserts for street shoes. All I need to do is slip them inside a pair of my good-lookin' shoes and I feel like I'm walking around on a cloud of heaven. I actually relish the feeling of my feet inside my shoes and that, I must tell you, is an exceptionally rare experience. One that I can honestly recall having only during the first outing in a great new pair of running shoes, ironically enough. God willing I get to enjoy an experience like that again -- and if I do, I'm sure it will be due in part to Superfeet!

Here's what the new loves of my life look like:

Not very impressive at first sight I know. But, as they say, you can't judge a book by its cover. I'll carry that a step further to say you can't judge Superfeet by their non-inspiring, black molded plastic presentation. You must walk around on top of them to know the joy they bring!

And here is a link to the Superfeet website so you can fall in love with the possibilities yourself:

http://www.superfeet.com/default.aspx

I want to get everyone I know a pair of Superfeet for Christmas. Joy to the world!

Lost

Via a 1-2 punch, my workout routine has completely disintegrated and as a result, I'm feeling fairly directionless as far as exercise goes. It's really disconcerting.

The first of the two punches? After a couple weeks of denial and false hope, I had to give in and admit that I've got plantar fasciitis. (That's irritation and swelling of the thick tissue on the bottom of the foot, for those of you not in the know. It manifests itself with heel pain that's most frequently felt during the first few steps after getting out of bed in the morning.)

My right heel has been feeling sore for months -- even as far back as marathon training -- but not painful, just like a sore muscle that needed some massage. About a month ago, the heel took a pretty big turn for the worse. It felt deeply bruised and was painful to the touch. It didn't bother me too much while I was running, but the pain was definitely more noticeable after a long or intense run. Like the textbook definition, it was worst during the first few steps each morning. I also noticed that it hurt more when I wore flats (or, sadly, really any kind of cute, non-athletic shoe). But it wasn't unmanageable, so I kept running on it even though the pain gradually increased over time. I hated the idea of losing any conditioning. (I also have a fairly large area of numbness on my left shin, but that's another story. The only thing I'll say is that my doctor recommended almost two months ago that I take a break from running.)

Last weekend, during a getaway with some friends from school, I took a full three rest days in a row. I can't remember the last time I had three consecutive days without a workout. The only exercise I did was a one-hour easy hike. More like a stroll. On the third day, I realized that my heel felt much improved. Noticing the absence of pain helped me realize that the heel had been more painful than I was admitting. Filled with (excessive and unrealistic) optimism, I went for a run on my first day back at home. For the first time, my heel bugged me during the run ... and hurt me more than ever later that day and into the next. It was full-on painful, not just sore or bruised-feeling.

With that, I put my denial to the side and told myself I was going to take a break from running for at least a couple weeks. I solicited advice on Facebook and got myself some Superfeet -- supportive shoe inserts. I thought they were only made for running shoes but it turns out, they've also got 'em for regular street shoes. After slipping them inside my favorite pair of flats, I felt the difference immediately. That was one ray of sunshine ... from what I'd heard, I was supposed to be wearing supportive shoes exclusively. In my mind, supportive = athletic or orthopedic. So I thought I was doomed to walking around looking decidedly uncool until my foot got better. (Not that I look cool in general, but you know what I mean.) So now I'm Lady Superfeet.

I also ordered a therapeutic sock that purports to speed healing by holding the foot in a flexed position and lifting the toes while you sleep at night. It's called the Strassburg sock. I got a couple very enthusiastic recommendations for it, countered with one "don't waste your money," so we'll see if it does anything for me. And I also ordered a book, "The 5-minute Plantar Fasciitis Solution," that was really well-reviewed on Amazon.com. I'm icing my foot more, as well -- although not as much as I probably should be. And then, of course, I'm not running.

That's the hardest part. I honestly feel a sense of grief about it. Maybe that's too strong a word and "emptiness" is better. Weirdly, it reminds me of being in junior high school, when a boyfriend had broken up with me. I'd still get the same urge to call him or talk to him, but then have to remind myself that I couldn't, that we weren't together anymore -- and then I'd feel sad and empty inside. That's what this is like. Yesterday was a beautiful day and I wanted nothing more than to go out for a run ... but I couldn't because of my foot and it discombobulated me to a huge degree. Instead, I went to the gym and got on an elliptical trainer. Until my foot is better, I've promised myself that I'm only going to do non-impact forms of cardio. I'm not a swimmer, so that leaves me with the elliptical trainer and biking. I'm trying to keep up my regular schedule of 6 days per week of cardio, which adds up to a lot of time on a machine.

The second punch? SuperAthlete J, my workout partner in every respect, had to take a month off weight training. We recently started a new 16-week program and had just finished week 4. Badass that she is, she's doing a half iron man next month and the training schedule has gotten completely insane. There's just no room for weightlifting amidst all the 50-mile bike rides. And, while I completely understand, I also feel bereft.

She's planning to start back up again after her event, and I didn't want to be out of synch with her -- so I also dropped our program. I've gone back to my previous routine of full-body workouts every other day. They feel almost ridiculously easy after the four weeks of "5 sets of 18 reps" that SAJ and I just completed. I'm going to tinker around with them a bit to make sure I'm getting good workouts but I also don't want to ramp up the intensity too much. I'm thinking of this as a "holding" month -- I want to do enough to stay where I am, so I can be ready to jump back in with SAJ.

So yes, I'm at loose ends. It's hard to feel motivated right now, without a goal to reach for. I mostly just don't want to gain weight or lose too much fitness during this time. I know I'll lose some running conditioning and that makes me really sad. I'm consoling myself with my 10k time from last month ... that was definitely a high note to go out on. And I'm also telling myself that this is a good opportunity to get creative and explore new, non-impactful ways of working up a sweat -- all the stuff I haven't done because I've been busy running. Stay tuned on that.

I understand that I'm looking at this like I'm never going to run again. That's because I'm me -- a person who tends to see things in extremes. Maybe I'll get lucky and be able to start running again in a couple weeks, and a lot of this fretting will be for naught. Or maybe it will take longer. I just know I don't want to rush it, and I don't wait to sit around doing nothing while I wait to be able to run again. Now I've got to change my thinking, figure out some new things to work for, and get moving.

10k hooray!

At the freakishly early hour of 7:00 a.m. on Saturday morning, I ran the first ever "Heroes Half and 10k" here in Seattle. The 10k course was pretty great: just a big loop around Lake Union, starting and finishing at Gasworks Park. My goal? To finish in 60 minutes or less.

I thought that, if there was any course that could get me to that goal, this one would be it. The paths and roads around Lake Union are flat as a pancake. And the event wasn't well-publicized, so not a lot of runners participated. I assumed (correctly and thankfully) that I'd be able to run as quickly as I wanted, without worrying about crowds slowing me down.

In order to finish in 60 minutes, I figured out that I'd have to run 9:40-minute miles. Since I'm comfortably doing 10:00 miles on long runs -- and have managed 9:20 miles on 4-milers, I thought I could probably pull it off. But I still had enough uncertainty to feel motivated, excited and a bit nervous about the run.

After truly gigantic downpours on Friday night, Saturday dawned cool and cloudy -- but not rainy or windy. What an encouraging omen! And, as my friend SAJ says, ideal weather for running with all the oxygen in the air. I got up at 5:00, ate breakfast, got dressed and rode my bike down to the race start at Gasworks Park. The fact that it was first-time event showed in the details but everyone was in a good and forgiving mood and there were no catastrophes. The organizers started people in unofficial waves -- basically letting groups of roughly 50 runners start together, and signaling those behind to wait. My wave was probably the 6th or 7th to start out.

I didn't feel great at the beginning: my nerves were showing. My stomach was jumping around and I had a hard time catching my breath. I told myself that I had trained to be able to do what I was attempting, that I wasn't reaching for an unreasonable goal, and distracted myself with my iPod. I could tell before the first mile was even complete that it wasn't going to be one of those wonderful runs that feels great and empowering; it was going to be a push to finish in the time I wanted. But I kept working for it -- reminding myself of how happy I'd be if I pulled it off.

It helped that I was able to get ahead of most of the people in my wave fairly quickly. It's a rare occasion for me to be able to pass other runners, so I did relish it every time I was able to do it. At other times, when I sensed my breath starting to get away from me, I'd park myself behind a runner who was going a bit more slowly -- matching the pace until I felt strong again. Then I'd swing out from behind and pass. How glorious!

The course was well marked in kilometers, so I was able to entertain myself trying to convert my kilometer time into mile time as a way of seeing if I was on track (I am terrible at math). At the 5k mark, I was at just over 28:00, and seeing that number totally spurred me on. (It also was the first time I was definitively able to see how I was doing, since my math skills are so pathetic. When I reached 5k, at least I knew I was halfway done and could reasonably double my time to predict the finish.)

What did I not anticipate? The stinky hills in the last couple miles of the course. Yes, the paths and roads around Lake Union are super flat -- with the exception of the section that leads from the lake shore to the Eastlake Bridge. At that point, the course took us on a series of three small but extremely steep inclines that slowed me down and also totally winded me. You know how I had wickedly been enjoying being able to pass other runners? Suddenly, there they were again -- passing me by and getting up those brutal little hills easy as pie. I started feeling discouraged but kept pushing.

Directly after the final hill was the bridge. Adding insult to injury, it's on a long, slow uphill slope. More runners passed me but I kept at it. I passed the 8k marker and tried to do the math to see if there was any way I could finish in 60 minutes. It wasn't looking good but because my calculating skills are so weak, I couldn't be sure -- so I pressed on. I kept thinking of how proud I'd be to make my time. I really wanted to be able to tell SAJ that I'd done it.

A note about SAJ here: it's because of her that I was even aiming for a 60-minute time. After one of our tempo runs a couple months ago, she said in her charming way, "You know Anna, you're on track to run a 10k in an hour." I pooh-poohed her but of course it stuck in my head. And dammit if I didn't want to do it just because she put it out there. Oh SAJ, you are a trickster!

At the 9k marker, I checked my watch again. Unbelievably, I was at 52:30. Could that be? Did I actually have a full seven and a half minutes to run a single kilometer? I did some more ridiculously ignorant calculating, trying to figure what a kilometer is, compared to a mile. I guessed .7 miles -- plenty of time to make my goal. (I know now that 1k = .62 miles, thanks to the handy app on my phone. I probably could have come to that on my own, seeing that I knew 10k = 6.2 miles. But give me some credit, I was running hard and not at my best intellectually.)

While I was figuring, I was still doing my best to go fast ... but I sensed that I was slowing. I had fantasized about a sprint finish, but that wasn't to be. In all honesty, I felt pretty close to my edge. I tried to turn off my brain and just make my body move. I played counting games -- taking 30 breaths while looking no further than 10 feet in front of me, then raising my eyes to see how far I'd progressed. I counted steps. And then, thankfully, I rounded the final bend and saw the flags leading to the finish. Finally, I was able to step it up a bit -- I went as hard as I could until I crossed the chip timer line, then hit the stop button on my own watch's timer. And here is what it said:

Can I get a yahoo? I'm so thrilled. That total adds up to an average pace of 9:26! I'll yahoo myself: yahoo!

I couldn't get my watch to show the time and distance on the same screen, so here's a second picture that confirms I ran the actual distance. It's on the lower right (6.21 miles, so I even ran even a tiny bit more!). The big "53:16" number is what the watch thinks is my pace at the moment; I'm not sure why it's reading like that because I was standing still to take the picture.

What a happy, happy run. After it was over, I got back on my bike -- with some fatigue but mostly exhilaration -- and pedaled home. All that before 9:00 in the morning, pretty divine! And, as a happy P.S., I looked up the results today and I placed 8th in my age group. Eighth out of 22, but still, I'm happy. Overall, I placed 140th out of 326. I'm less excited about that, but it's still way better than I used to do.

Onward!

An interesting experiment

Well, wasn't last week a humbling one? And it was supposed to be so easy.

Why? Because SuperAthlete J and I had finally finished our 16-week weight training course, and decided to take a week off weights before starting a new one (more on this in an upcoming post). It was also a relatively slow week for running ... I didn't have anything specific I wanted to achieve and SAJ needed only to do a 4-mile run with 4 20-second sprints in the middle of it.

Wanting to mix things up a bit, I thought, "I know! I'll take a break and do classes at the gym for my workouts this week, it will be so much fun!"

Fun, yes. Surprisingly painful? Also yes. A good reminder that one kind of fitness does not automatically translate to other kinds of fitness? Bingo.

So, here's how my week shook out:

On Monday, I took a kickboxing class followed by a 25-minute core conditioning class offered by the same instructor. This man is known as one of the most hardcore trainers at my gym and he definitely lived up to his reputation. While I was able to keep up with the class and didn't have to do anything embarrassing like lay down on the floor to recover and catch my breath, it was one of the hardest workouts I've been through in a while. But did I love it? Yes, I did. Punching and kicking the big squishy cylinder was a lot of fun and I felt like I was working my body in a whole new way. Plus, I got to practice my pathetic jumprope skills -- as well as my tolerance for looking like a total fool in public. A win-win, wouldn't you say?

The core conditioning class felt much easier by comparison, although the instructor did correct my form several times -- and when I implemented his advice, the movements were significantly more difficult. My ab workouts have become a little stagnant lately, so I was really glad to get some new moves and pointers on how to do them for maximum effect. I left the gym feeling totally jelly-legged but invigorated.

Until the next day, when my inner thighs were so sore that I couldn't really cross my legs. Looking at the bright side, I chose to feel grateful that I'd had a chance to work some muscles that I'm apparently not using much in my regular routine. Little did I know that I was being a small glimpse of things to come ...

Fast forward to Wednesday. (On Tuesday, I just got on the elliptical trainer for an hour -- I couldn't find a class during the time I was able to work out.) On Wednesday, I took a rest day. I never take rest days in the middle of the week. Saturday is my rest day and I love it like that. But I was so sore from Monday's kickboxing that I couldn't face the idea of exercise. I actually got in my car, drove to the gym, then drove back home without working out. I've never done that before. But things got even worse as the week progressed.

On Thursday, I ran with SAJ despite still feeling very creaky from kickboxing. (Yes, a full three days later. Shows you how unprepared I was for the intensity of that class.) Later on, I took a short abs class, followed by an "NRG Bar" session. "NRG Bar" is like a hybrid of weights and step aerobics. There's lots of high-rep/low-weight stuff and jumping around/over the big plastic step. The instructor was super nice, encouraging and hugely entertaining to watch, so I had a great time. But, just like before, I came into the class full of cocky attitude. I just finished 16 weeks of weight training at ever-escalating levels of difficulty!, I said to my cocky self. This will be easy as pie!

Wrong. Because I stubbornly refused to swap the heavier weights I'd brashly selected at the start of class for something more light and manageable, I had to stop and take a few breathing breaks here and there. I also occasionally went at half-time while everyone else was full steam ahead. This class was definitely another dose of "my kind of fitness doesn't translate to all kinds of fitness" reality -- but it was nothing compared to what Friday had in store for me ...

Zumba class. Here's how cocky I was about this one: I was going to take a 5-mile run before the class even started because I was so sure it would be a walk in the park and I didn't want to feel like I hadn't worked out that day. Oh my lord, how wrong can one woman be? Zumba kicked my ass. Kicked it, then stomped on it, then walked away laughing as a matter of fact.

What is Zumba, you ask? Here's what the official Zumba® website has to say:

The Zumba® program fuses hypnotic Latin rhythms and easy-to-follow moves to create a one-of-a-kind fitness program that will blow you away.

Sounds relatively mellow, wouldn't you say? (Here's a link if you want to look into it further: http://www.zumba.com/us/) My impression of the class was reinforced by the people I'd seen taking it ... mostly middle-aged or older women, not too fit, generally a bit plump. You know, Jazzercise ladies. (I know I'm being horribly judgmental right now.) The final nail in the coffin of my complete misunderstanding of the class? The fact that a friend of mine, who admittedly hates to exercise and drags herself to the gym once or at best twice per week where she doesn't appear to ever break a sweat, had taken it and pronounced it "hard." Not "insanely hard" or "you will want to pass out because you're working so hard, hard" -- just "hard." Well, I snidely told myself, if that's how she feels about it, I will be totally fine. In fact, I'd better take a run before class just to make sure I get a good workout.

HA HA HA HA HA, the joke was so on me. You know that part in the preceding paragraph where I mentioned passing out? I literally felt like that. I'd come into the class with my primary worry being about not looking stupid while attempting the dance moves -- coordination is not my strong point -- and ended with it being about staying conscious until the class was over. In short, it was a great, GREAT, hard workout, awesome for the core and legs, and I gained a whole new respect for it, along with the Jazzercise ladies who take it. (A side note: not only did my exercise-hating friend join me for the class -- and come away much less winded than me -- we were joined by our two daughters, who suffered through the majority of the class, dying of teenage embarrassment, before slinking away to sit on the couch until it was over.)

Was I glad I didn't take a run before the class? Yes I was.

Even after my humiliation at the hands of Zumba, my week was not over. I still had one final humbling experience to suffer through -- and it wasn't even a class.

Saturday was a day that kind of slipped away from me, but in the best way. My youngest daughter and I spent the morning and afternoon biking around our neighborhood, stopping here and there and enjoying ourselves in the sunshine. When we got back home, I didn't have enough time for a trip to the gym -- but I still wanted to work out. My sweet and helpful husband suggested that I do walking lunges around our block and I thought, That's a great idea!

Can you see where this is going?

Our "block" is actually a few blocks crammed into one: at one end is 70th Street, and at the other is 73rd. So it's a long stretch from end to end. (I'm laying the groundwork to make excuses here.) I set out from our house, lunging away. And I did make it to the end of the block. But there was ABSOLUTELY NO WAY for me to lunge any further. My legs felt like jello. So, dipping into my past bootcamp class experiences, I did sideways gallops along the short end of the block. When I got to the corner, I did walking squats up the other long side. Then more sideways gallops to the third corner -- and walking lunges back to our house, which I barely managed to squeak out.

I should have known how much trouble I was in when I went up our front steps. I honestly wasn't sure if my legs would support me, that's how loose and trembly they were. But I was in a hurry and didn't take in the dire portent of what my gams were telling me. I was on my feet a lot that evening and they continued to feel weak. They were a little sore the next day when I treated myself to a rest day (my second for the week!) because it was Mother's Day. Plus, in the back of my mind, I wasn't sure how well I'd do on a workout.

And then came Monday. I can honestly say my legs have never been more sore in my life. "Sore" isn't even the word to describe what I felt, in fact. I was in literal pain every time I had to move around on my feet. Sitting down, getting up and going down stairs were the worst. I had to shift the majority of my weight to my arms to be able to do it, so stuff like going to the bathroom was a lot of fun. I felt like such an old lady, I can't even tell you.

I forced myself to work out, thinking it might loosen my legs up. Along with the first day of my and SAJ's new weight training program, I ran three miles on the treadmill and went back for a second dose of the kickboxing/core conditioning class. (I was feeling guilty about my two rest days the week before.) Exercising did help -- while I was doing it and for 5 or so minutes after. Then it was right back to full-on pain. I couldn't wait for the day to end so I could look forward to feeling better the next day but Tuesday wasn't much of an improvement. On Wednesday, I was able to get down stairs without using a hand rail ... but I still had to lead with my right leg every time. Thursday was the first day I could walk down the stairs using both legs like a normal person -- but I still looked gimpy. Today is Friday. Yes, just about a week later. And it is the first day that my legs have felt anything close to normal. Being able to sit on the toilet without gripping the bowl for support on the way down feels like a pretty giant achievement. I've continued to exercise every day -- both to stay on schedule and because I've been hoping it would help move the soreness out of my body -- but it's been hard, to say the least.

And that is the end of my long tale of humbling woe and exercise experimentation. At least it was illuminating for me -- and a good reminder that mixing it up is a good thing, but one that I should be careful with. Or at least not quite so cocky.

So much for an easy week between programs, huh?

Bloomsday in Spokane

My best friend moved to Spokane five years ago and ever since, she's encouraged me to come over and run the Bloomsday 12k. (Really, she's looking for a reason that will entice me to spend the weekend with her -- not that I need any enticing because her fine company is all the reason I will ever need to make the 275-mile road trip to her house.)

This year, finally, I agreed to do it. The timing seemed perfect: I've been working on my pace over shorter distances and Bloomsday is a 12k. Plus, as I said, I'm always happy to visit my wonderful friend.

However, I made a few mistakes in planning for this run.

First, I got the distance wrong. OK, that's really embarrassing -- but true nevertheless. I've got a metric conversion app on my phone and I used it to see what 12k translates to in miles: according to the app, it was 6.48. Easy enough. So, for the past several weeks, I've been doing long runs of 6 or 7 miles to prepare for the 12k. My aim? To run the distance in 60 minutes or a bit less.

Then, just a few days before we were to set out for Spokane, I got on the Bloomsday website. There, right in the masthead, was a bullet point: "12k (7.46 miles)." That can't be!, I thought. I went to a metric converter website and typed in 12k ... 7.46 miles. With a growing sense of dismay, I went to my phone app and typed in 12k once more. (I was starting to think that something was wrong with my app -- and building up a big head of steam, all ready to make a big stink about this crappy (free) app.)

Uh oh. I was right about 12k converting to 6.48 ... nautical miles. If I scrolled up a bit higher, I could plainly see that the kilometers translated to 7.46 regular miles. Boo! So much for being able to run the whole thing in an hour. I quickly adjusted my goal to 70 minutes. Not as exciting as "an hour," but I'd still be proud if I was able to do it.

I clicked back over to the Bloomsday site and, rather belatedly, looked at the elevation profile. My heart sank further. Why did I not research earlier and find out that it's a fairly hilly course -- with a big fat "Doomsday Hill" in the middle -- and that it starts about 1,500 feet above sea level? That was my second mistake. I suddenly felt much less confident about being able to run the distance in 70 minutes and mentally adjusted my goal to 75. Sigh.

Third mistake: I completely neglected to take into consideration the massive numbers of people who participate in this race. This year, there were over 49,000. I don't know if I've ever participated in a run of that scale.

Here's a picture I took on the morning of the run, while waiting for my wave to get the go-ahead to cross the start line:

Please bear in mind that this picture was taken at least 45 minutes after the run had "officially" started -- not including the elite wave of pro runners that was the first to go out. There were even more people stacked up behind me. So yes, a really giant run.

And one, apparently, that is filled with walkers who aren't that interested in being part of the last wave. You know, the one that's for walkers. When it was finally time to cross the start and start running, I found it almost impossible. Walkers everywhere. And where there weren't walkers, there were other people like me, futilely trying to run and being reduced to a jog at best -- or a jog in place at worst.

Eager to get rolling, I started dodging and weaving -- figuring if I couldn't run straight ahead, perhaps I could move forward by running side to side. I was still going so slowly that I started mentally planning to take a run later in the day so I could actually get some exercise.

After half a mile or so, I noticed a current of runners to my left and joined it. And by "current," I mean a row of 2 or 3 runners at the dangling edge of a giant river of walkers at least 50 people wide. I still needed to maneuver around frequent clumps of walkers, but at least I was finally able to start running at something approximating my usual pace. Some of the time, anyway. Even my tiny stream of runners would sometimes come to a halt when the course narrowed. Then I'd be back to jogging in place. I started mentally upping the time I'd hoped to achieve, wondering if it would be possible for me to finish the course in 90 minutes, let alone 75.

Finally, between miles 2 and 3, a readerboard sign at the side of the road: RUNNERS ON LEFT, WALKERS ON RIGHT. Wow, I thought, wouldn't it have been nice to have a sign like that at the very beginning of the course? Or information about it in the event handout? Perhaps it's assumed that people already know. And obviously, some people did. Others didn't, and the sign helped move more of the walkers over to the right. But not all of them. I was still doing a lot of zig-zagging. On one short and steep uphill, I had to move around a big crew of Army soldiers in full gear, with giant backpacks, walking squarely up the left side of the course. I'm all for supporting our troops, but geez Louise.

Happily, after mile 4 or so, the course opened up and slowdowns were much more rare. I finally felt like I was getting a good workout and even made myself slow down here and there to catch my breath. I felt a decent amount of anxiety about the famed "Doomsday Hill" -- .7 miles at a pretty steep incline -- and was looking forward to putting it behind me. But all those runs in my own hilly neighborhood must have been great preparation because it really wasn't that bad. I mean, I had to work hard -- but I never felt like I needed to stop and walk or anything.

The last couple miles of the run went really well. The course was flat, there was room to move, and I was in a part of the city I'd never been to before so there was a lot to look at. I checked the distance on my watch against the posted distance and was surprised to see that I'd run .3 miles more than what the mile marker showed ... must have been all the weaving around.

Then, suddenly, the course took a right turn to head downhill to the finish, about a quarter of a mile away. I sprinted down and crossed it with no idea of my time (I'd forgotten to start my timer at the beginning of the run). Even if I hadn't been able to run the event for time, I at least felt like I'd gotten in a good workout on a beautiful morning.

And we did get so lucky with the weather. It was raining and cold the day before Bloomsday, and the day after was so freakishly windy that it blew up a dust storm. Here's a photo from our drive home:

Yikes. There's no way I could have gone running in that. Or anyone else, I'd imagine. The happy ending to the story? Even with all the crazy slowdowns and extra distance from scooting around walkers, I ended up with a time of 77 minutes -- just 2 over my goal. Not bad!

Pee S. (a running milestone)

Here's something I left out of that last triumphant post:

I hit another running milestone during that 3-mile tempo run, aside from setting a PR.

I peed my pants at the end.

Not just a trickle. I full-on peed my pants.

Nothing approaching that has ever happened to me before, even after birthing two kids. I'm still not sure why it happened, but I'm guessing it was because I was pushing myself so hard and stopped so abruptly -- when I slowed to a walk, everything let go (including my bladder).

I was aware during the third mile that I needed to pee but it didn't feel like an emergency or anything. It was very peripheral in my thoughts -- probably because I was doing everything I could just to keep moving quickly without dying.

When I saw the magic "3.00" appear on my GPS-enabled watch, I immediately slowed to a walk. And that's when the torrent began. Actually, it wasn't a torrent at first; I'd say it was a stream. Realizing what was going on, I started jogging again, thinking that would halt the flow. No dice. Then I bent over double and kegel-ed for all my might. If anything, that made it worse.

At that point, there was nothing left to do but let it go. There, in the parking lot outside Stone Gardens in my own cozy neighborhood, I peed like a racehorse. SuperAthlete J, who was just a bit behind me, came up to see me laughing and walking around in circles. She asked what was going on, and I proudly announced that I'd just taken a whiz in my sweats.

I stopped laughing soon enough when I remembered that our workout wasn't over -- we were scheduled to jog back to the gym and lift weights together. I started pissing and moaning, ha ha, about how I was going to miss out on our weight session because I didn't have any spare clothes with me and I'd have to go home and change.

Now here's something that will make anyone who belongs to my gym shudder -- and anyone who doesn't breathe a sigh of relief: SAJ simply said, "Oh come on and do weights. You've got at least an hour before you start stinking." When I pointed out the big wet spot on my (thankfully black) sweats, she said, "You're sweaty up top; no one will guess that's pee down below." It's true: my tank top had a big fat sweat stain down the middle from my quick 3 miler. And fortunately, my sweats are quite absorbent -- I'd never put them to a test like that before! -- and they did an admirable job of catching my pee. None of it ran down my legs and into my socks, so I began to seriously consider SAJ's idea.

Such was my desire to lift weights with SAJ that I followed her advice and went to the gym in my stinky britches. (Or supposedly not stinky yet, according to SAJ.) Not only did I do a complete weight session with her -- sitting on a towel whenever sitting was required, thank you very much -- I also wrapped up with half an hour on an elliptical trainer. I will say that I thought I was getting a little smelly toward the end -- but really, not until the last 10 minutes or so. And happily, my sweet husband happened to be at the gym at the same time so he could confirm my lack of stench.

And that is the postscript (or Pee S.) to my story.