Just What I Needed!
I posted on Friday that I felt like a deer in the headlights. Today, I went out in the rain for my long run. I put on the FuelBelt with 2 bottles, my 20 year-old fashion crime, but I'll be seen Pearl Izumi Wind Jacket, a ball cap to keep my glasses kind of dry, lightweight tights, and 2 wicking shirts. Off I went.
Since Hal Higdon and Alison had put fear into my brain, I decided to head up the hills to start my long run. Off I went towards the large park that caps the ridge just to my north. Twenty minutes in, as I ran the roadway at the margin of the park, through the gray haze, I spotted four deer descending the hill, about to cross my path. They watched me as I ground my way towards them, up the park roadway. When I got to within about 50 feet, they bolted, showing me their white tails as they ran a tangent just slightly away from the roadway. The road curves upward just beyond where this occurred, and sure enough as the hill steepened, there they were on my left. Again, they watched me, but this time, my path was far enough from them that they didn't feel threatened. This time, they watched me pass.
I continued my climb over the ridge. Forty minutes put me near the bottom. It had been many months since I'd run a truly big descent, even several months since the smaller ones at Holmdel Park. My legs were starting to whine. I now had twenty or thirty minutes of flat running before I'd need to face the hills again. My legs were feeling beat up by the hills. Heading back over the ridge, my legs were feeling leaden. They still worked, but clearly weren't happy with the loads being put on them.
Descending from the ridge, for some reason, into my head pops "Hey there fella, with hair colored yella..." before I knew it, I'm shouting Lynyrd Skynyrd's lines, "Gimme three steps, gimme three steps mister...." It came from somewhere deep inside, but it gave me the separation from the discomfort to keep pounding it out without too much angst. I got to the bottom of the hill just after the light changed against me, so I headed for the pedestrian bridge. Over the bridge and I decided to cut the run a bit short. My big toe on my right foot was blistering from the wet, hilly conditions. I got home in 1:52, which I'll credit as 13 miles. A bit short as long runs go, but better to feel OK tomorrow.
Sometimes, fear can make you face unpleasant work bravely. Thank you Alison and Mr. Higdon.
Follow-up here.
Since Hal Higdon and Alison had put fear into my brain, I decided to head up the hills to start my long run. Off I went towards the large park that caps the ridge just to my north. Twenty minutes in, as I ran the roadway at the margin of the park, through the gray haze, I spotted four deer descending the hill, about to cross my path. They watched me as I ground my way towards them, up the park roadway. When I got to within about 50 feet, they bolted, showing me their white tails as they ran a tangent just slightly away from the roadway. The road curves upward just beyond where this occurred, and sure enough as the hill steepened, there they were on my left. Again, they watched me, but this time, my path was far enough from them that they didn't feel threatened. This time, they watched me pass.
I continued my climb over the ridge. Forty minutes put me near the bottom. It had been many months since I'd run a truly big descent, even several months since the smaller ones at Holmdel Park. My legs were starting to whine. I now had twenty or thirty minutes of flat running before I'd need to face the hills again. My legs were feeling beat up by the hills. Heading back over the ridge, my legs were feeling leaden. They still worked, but clearly weren't happy with the loads being put on them.
Descending from the ridge, for some reason, into my head pops "Hey there fella, with hair colored yella..." before I knew it, I'm shouting Lynyrd Skynyrd's lines, "Gimme three steps, gimme three steps mister...." It came from somewhere deep inside, but it gave me the separation from the discomfort to keep pounding it out without too much angst. I got to the bottom of the hill just after the light changed against me, so I headed for the pedestrian bridge. Over the bridge and I decided to cut the run a bit short. My big toe on my right foot was blistering from the wet, hilly conditions. I got home in 1:52, which I'll credit as 13 miles. A bit short as long runs go, but better to feel OK tomorrow.
Sometimes, fear can make you face unpleasant work bravely. Thank you Alison and Mr. Higdon.
Follow-up here.
posted by Scooter at 4:15 PM
1 Comments:
You could read what I wrote a couple of ways. I said that last weekend was the first time I felt like Heartbreak Hill was actually a hill. That means that every time I'd run up it until then, I wasn't at all impressed. But if you go into Boston expecting the hills to be really tough, then hopefully you will be pleasantly surprised when they aren't. Everything is relative. I know people who will refer to little bumps as big hills, so it all depends on who you ask.
If I were ever to run Boston again, my big fear would be the downhill in the beginning, not the uphills. If you can find a place to practice running downhill for about nine miles straight, and then running flat and uphill, that would be good! (Most people don't have access to such a thing...) But plenty of people survive Boston every year without doing running that mimics the course.
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