Sunday evening jog

Scott here. As you may have noticed, I've hijacked this blog. Miranda's the better writer, but she prefers the role of editor. Even though I communicate almost entirely in English over here, every once in a while I notice that my English skills are starting to slip. Words that used to be an active part of my vocabulary are now hard to find, I'm making up new "sayings" which really aren't common and sometimes don't make any sense, I've started to overuse the word "however" - one of my coworkers' favorite words, phrasing a sentence using a bit of "Swenglish", etc. Pretty soon I won't be able to speak any language. Won't that be embarrassing. Miranda doesn't really like the fact that I've adopted the more logical British method of moving my periods and commas outside of the quotation marks unless they apply to the subject being quoted; it isn't AP style. She's started to let it slide though, and the blog keeps rolling on.

I actually have a few new topics that I like to think might be of interest: the gym class I mentioned in yesterday's post, some new shopping stories from today, a new and sporadic interest in my diet and my training. As you probably guessed from the title of this post, tonight I'll be writing about my training.

Back in 2008 I mentioned in a post that I'd love to write a blog about everything that goes through my head while I run, or something like that. One reader (we'll call him Tim B.) expressed interest, and now that I've given up on exclusively blogging about life in Sweden, the flood gates have opened.

Quick (but long) background - I've identified myself as a distance runner since I found out I was one of the fastest kids in my class in the mile, way back in 4th or 5th grade. I became a good miler in junior high, a decent track athlete and good cross country runner in high school, and although I was a good 5k, 8k and 10k guy in college, I never really stood out at the top. Regardless of my performances, at that point in time, competitive distance running dictated my life. Running defined me.

One of my summer jobs in high school involved 50-70 hour weeks in the corn fields in late July/early August. I remember waking up at 4:00 in the morning to get in a run, breakfast and a shower before the unknown 12-14 hour shift started at 6:00. Waiting until the end of the day just wasn't an option, the energy wouldn't be there.

As you can imagine, it's been hard to let go of those days. In fact, I still haven't let it go. I'm no longer running 60-70 mile weeks, and it's even less common that I do a real workout. Sometimes I'm lucky if I get out for two runs over the course of a couple weeks, but when I meet somebody new it doesn't take long for me to introduce myself as a runner.

That still strikes me as funny, you look at my post-college running career, especially compared to many of my former teammates, and I really don't feel like I deserve to be called a runner anymore. Here's a brief recap of what my post-college running career has looked like:

2003: Straight out of college I trained through the summer and ran a marathon. It was good, 2:55:56, could have been better.

2004: That summer I pulled my hamstring playing softball, then a month later I decided to return to the field and pulled it again. That marked the end of my softball career, and really set back my running career. I swear I felt that pain regularly for three years, and at times still feel like my hamstring might randomly give out. Later that winter I sprained my left ankle playing racquetball. There went my rehab running.

2005: Left ankle improved, hit the courts again, sprained my right ankle. At this point I wisened up and bought some high-tops, but that set me back a ways. So somehow I moved from a marathon in 2003 through a painful 2004 to a summer of running/rehab in 2005.

2006: My running improved, Miranda and I decided to give a triathlon a try, and I built up enough base to do some weak training for a fall marathon. Didn't do enough training, ran a 3:22 or 3:26, don't really want to remember, but to be honest, I was happy to be running.

2007: Had some fun doing two recreational triathlons in the summer and decided to do another marathon, but for some reason I gave up on training a month before the race. Literally no running in the last three weeks, and a previously high long run of something like 12 miles. I do not advise trying a marathon on that type of training, but I figured if joggers/walkers can do it, so could I. Trust me, four to six hour marathoners have some sort of mental toughness that I can't even imagine. Kudos to them. By mile eight I jogging for two minutes, walking for one minute. Half a mile later it was two minutes on, two minutes off. Didn't take long until it was one minute jogging, four minutes walking. By mile nine my knees were shot. By mile 10 my hips were shot. By mile 12 I couldn't run. By mile 14 I was bored of walking, so I stopped at an aid station and called Miranda. Ever the optimist, she was waiting at mile 20, expecting to see me at any minute. I met her at mile 16. I was finished.

2008: Moved to Sweden, and realized that I was 28 pounds heavier than I was in college, and although I was packing some more muscle from more intense lifting, at least 20 pounds of that weight could not be classified as "lean". Funny how hard five years could hit me. I launched back in to running, tried to build gradually, and seven months later and 18 pounds lighter I ran a marathon PR in Berlin, 2:51:52. Sadly, I bummed up my knee pretty badly - actually, my IT band which runs down my outer thigh and connecting on the side of the knee, so I took off most of October and November.

2009: The thigh pain was still bad, despite the many leg strengthening/stretching exercises. I ran less than any year since probably 1994.

2010: My leg is still bothering me some, some, but I'm doing a lot to work around that. Developing better core strength and a change from the traditional "heel-to-toe" teachings to a midfoot/forefoot landing has basically taken away all of the pain while I'm working out. I still feel my knee a bit at times, mostly when I lay down at night or do any squats/lunges in the gym, but I honestly think that the pain will go away if I just gradually build my running distances and strength. The midfoot/forefoot switch is tough; I'm using muscles that have gotten away with being lazy for years. My arches, ankles, calves and Achilles tendon are being used like never before, and if I do too much too soon, something is going to give out on me.

So, as I announced, Miranda and I are planning to run a marathon next May, and we need to get in shape to handle the last four months of dedicated marathon training. Most people think that sounds ridiculous, but it's true. I don't want to disable myself for another couple years.

Four runs this week, two three milers, a four miler and today's five miler. I've been running at least three days a week for a while now, so that really wasn't a big step. The main difference was that this week, I really focused on holding back on my three and four milers. No reason to blow out my legs. My legs need to get used to running, learn to go farther. There's no reason to tire them out, just need to get them reacquainted with the motions.

Last Sunday I didn't have a chance to lace up my shoes until 6:15 or so. It was dark, cold and wet. The temperature was just above freezing and there was a heavy mist that just made everything feel a bit colder. I grabbed two long-sleeve tops, a heavy pair of running tights, some heavy cotton gloves, a stocking cap, wool running socks, some lightweight shoes, and went off through the city. It didn't take long to get to a well-lit running path along the water, and the soreness in my glutes and hamstrings from Saturday's core class seemed to melt away within half a mile. Another couple of minutes later and my body was plenty warm, despite being seriously underdressed for almost any other activity.

As I went, I noticed that my legs just felt good, better than normal, which was a surprise after two straight days of running and a gym class the day before that left me moving like an old man. Seriously, I was partially crippled until Tuesday. The feeling was wonderful. My legs just had a spring in them, they wanted me to loosen up and go. I didn't open up my stride, but I did let my legs take me at a comfortable pace. Didn't have a watch, didn't care. I wouldn't have known where to take my mile splits anyway. I just know that I was going fast again, something I haven't done in a long time. Every time I've fallen off the running wagon, it has been tough to get back on, but there's always a run that just feels right. Well, Sunday was the night. I kept on my path but didn't really get a good chance to enjoy the city. There weren't a lot of people out walking, but enough that people dodging was necessary at least every 30 seconds. This was further complicated by many puddles, some every five to 10 meters once the path turned into gravel. Then it became fun, almost play-like, jumping around the puddles, long-jumping the larger puddles. My primary goals became making sure nobody got splashed and doing my best to avoid scaring anybody as I came up from behind. Running became so natural that I didn't even think that I was doing it.

After about a mile and a half had to turn inland, and that meant climbing a few hills. My legs didn't seem to mind, but my heart and lungs quickly reminded me that I'm still human. I pulled back a bit, but the legs still felt good. I was doing an out-and-back route with the turnaround point about halfway up a long hill. I got there, turned around, and sadly realized that I had been running with a cold wind at my back. The mist smacked me in the face, but it's not like I really had many options, had to run home. Going down that hill was the worst of it, but it didn't take long. Up and over another hill, and down to the water. That's where it really hit me. My legs started to lose their fresh feeling and I was definitely running. Jumping the puddles was still fun, but it took work. That particular area was fairly wide open, so the wind whipped across the water and I instantly felt the cold chill of my wet running clothes. I plodded on and soon reached an area where the water narrowed and the trees provided a better barrier against the wind. It wasn't that I was feeling bad, it's just that I was no longer moving mindlessly and effortlessly through space. As soon as I became aware that I was running, running became work. Very soon after reaching the sheltered area of the path, the effort disappeared again. I didn't have to slow down, but my awareness drifted from trudging along to the fact that I was running on such a pretty path, surrounded by the city, yet all I could see around me was the lighted path along the water.

Don't remember much of the run after that. Climbed a lot of stairs, crossed a high bridge, ran down a hill and I was back at my office. All I knew was that I was more excited about this run than I've been about any run in a long time. I didn't go that fast, I didn't go that far, but it felt good and it was relaxing. Those are two big reasons that I continue to run, and I'm really looking forward to more runs like that in the future.