Race Reports: Cul-de-sac 5K 1 and 2

The summer of speed has kicked off with two 5K races, which I’m using as practice before aiming for a big PR at the end of the month.

Cul-de-sac 5K #1

These races happen on July evenings in Virginia, so you know what you’re getting into when you sign up: it’s going to be hot. Still, the first one was even hotter than I expected: by 7 pm, the temperature had only dropped to 91°, with a real feel of 101°. I knew all time goals were out the window, but I did want to compete well; everyone would be dealing with the same conditions. No matter what, this would serve as a baseline for the rest and let me know where I needed to improve most.

But the heat was making me really nervous. The purpose of these 5Ks is to learn how to push myself, even when (especially when) I feel like it’s safer to hold back. To resist the urge to go into marathon savings mode, as if I have 10 or 20 miles left instead of 1 or 2. But could I fight that hard in the heat? The weather was helping me wuss out before we even started.

I hit the first mile in 6 minutes and second place. That seemed decent but I was immediately passed. And mile two was a mess; I tried to stay with it and continue to push when it got uncomfortable, but I was falling apart. My split for mile two floored me, 6:26. Seriously?? I tried to get back on it and when another girl passed me I didn’t immediately let her go. I remembered the DC Half, when I stuck with a woman trying to pass me longer than I thought I could, and tried to channel that fight. I tried again to not give up because I had been caught, but to use it as a wake up call to get back on it. It worked for a little bit but eventually she gapped me. And another woman caught me too. Geez, this is terrible. Why am I so bad at these?? Why I am running these?? Mile 3: 6:22.

With just the 0.1 left, I finally found a way to push and managed to squeak back into fourth in 19:23 (6:14 pace). I think my exact words upon finishing were, “That super sucked.” I was at least glad to have a kick at the end, but as usual disappointed that I don’t use that energy to push harder from farther out. Maybe that’s because it was freaking hot, but also I just never push hard enough. That’s what I’m supposed to be working on. Blaming the heat for the slow time is easier, but it was hot for everyone and I didn’t compete well. Next time.

The final sprint for fourth.

Cul-de-sac 5K #2

Next time turned out to be about ten degrees cooler (a chilly 82°) and far less oppressive (a real feel of only 83°!). Once again I wanted to compete well, but this time I also had time goals. I figured 6:00 pace seemed doable, given the cooler temperatures, my knowledge of the course, and geez, hadn’t I run faster than that for ten miles three months ago?? I mean, c'mon. My strategy was to hit the first mile in 6, same as last week, and then really focus on pushing the second mile to hit that one on pace too. I generally slip way behind in the second mile but thought if I could just hold this seemingly not too difficult pace for two miles, I could still find something in the last mile to kick it in. I wouldn’t get too far into a hole I couldn’t climb out of.

The race gets its name from three cul-de-sacs you run through in the first mile; three quick out and backs where you basically turn around a cone. I kept my eye on my watch (as I always do, often to my detriment) and it was hovering in the low 5:50s. I tried to relax a little and not get ahead of myself, but it still read sub-6 pace when I hit the mile in… 6:06. What?!? Damn those out and backs for probably screwing up my watch. Damn me for relying so much on my watch.

On to mile 2. I didn’t try to immediately make up those seconds but just tried to stay with it, to not let the woman who had gapped me slightly (when I was busy worrying about going out too fast) get any farther ahead, to try to hit two miles in as close to 12 flat as possible. But mile two was slower still, a 6:11.

And that’s when my strategy changed back to the old RunnerTeal strategy: screw up the first two miles and then push the last one when you finally realize, “Oh hey, there’s only one mile left!” With half a mile to go I tried to push harder still and rounding the final corner, I put on the same sprint as last week, finishing in 18:53 (6:05 pace) and second place. In the last mile I finally felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, feeling the fatigue and still pushing, but it was still only a 6 flat. I didn’t make up any distance on the woman ahead, although she had been steadily pulling away in the second mile and I did stop the gap from growing.

Finishing the second race.

My time was thirty seconds faster but considering the better conditions, my experience on the course, and that last week I was really only getting my feet wet (quite literally as my shoes were totally sweat drenched after that race) I thought I would do better than that. I did improve from fourth to second, but that’s only because two of the women who beat me last week didn’t come this week. And really, given my time goal for the season, it’s not enough of an improvement.

Afterward, a friend asked if my problem with 5Ks is that it takes me longer to get in the groove of it. I hadn’t really thought of it that way but remembering the last mile (which was harder but also felt better somehow) made me wonder if that is my problem. I’ve debated a longer warm up but never sure that’s a good idea on a hot day. I do strides but perhaps not enough. Somehow I need to find a way to conjure mile 3 Teal (or even mile 26 Teal) earlier on.

One more “practice” 5K to go.

What’s your go to strategy for a 5K?

Dream big, 

Teal 

Race Report: The Olympic Trials

[Photo credit: Cheryl Young.]

In the week leading up to the Trials, I did my best to avoid news of Saturday’s predicted heat. I stopped checking the weather. I started avoiding Twitter and Facebook. But still I unwittingly kept getting reminders of how miserably hot conditions would be.

I didn’t want to know. I wanted to PR dammit! I had trained for it, and while I always train for PRs, this one seemed more special/important/epic. This was the biggest stage I’d ever find myself on and I wanted to do well. REALLY well. I wanted a storybook (blog?) ending to my journey. Specifically, I wanted to break 2:40. And as the expected temperatures climbed, my hopes fell.

I had always assumed race day would be warmer than I’d prefer. I’m not a good heat runner, and LA weather is not my optimal chilliness (even in February), particularly with a 10:22 start time. But as the weather got much worse than even I expected, I tried not to let it get to me. Studies show that people can trick themselves into biking faster if they think it’s cooler, so maybe ignorance would help. I’d be smart, I’d hydrate well, but I wouldn’t obsess over the heat.

Except I did. My nerves were worse than ever, entirely due to the weather. My PR hopes were clearly going out the window and what I worried about most was how I would deal with that. I had so many friends/family/teammates supporting me in LA and back at home (and hello! All of you guys!); I wanted to make everyone proud. I knew deep down that no one else really cared if I PRed, but I worried I would be so upset with not getting a PR I’d ruin the celebration that the weekend was supposed to be. I didn’t want to be a brat to my family (I never want to be a brat, of course, but seem unable to help it sometimes), I wanted to cross the finish line with a smile, and not collapse in tears like I have every time I haven’t PRed (and even sometimes when I have, but not by enough). I really wanted to enjoy the weekend and was worried the weather would ruin everything.

WELCOME TO LA

But at least the weather couldn’t ruin the pre-race fun.

First up: check in and get our “gift bag.” I pictured some serious swag (other Trials have given away hats, jackets, posters, water bottles). Instead, we got a bottle of Dasani, a bottle of Coke, and a water bottle that said Rio on it. (Cool, but… umm… only six of us will be running Rio…How about something for THIS race?) Do we even get a t-shirt? I asked and the official seemed annoyed, “Apparently t-shirts are a sore spot for the runners.” Um, yeah, have you ever run a race that didn’t give you a t-shirt? They acted like shirts were on their way, but also like they were making stuff up to satisfy me. (Update: it was the latter. April 2016 Update: They did eventually send us shirts.) I understand that the top pros probably do not care about a shirt, but the majority of runners in this race (yes, even in this race) are not pros, but people who will list this among their lifetime achievements. We paid our entry, we want a memento.

Fortunately, I was cheered up upon leaving the room and running into Kara Goucher, who was staring at me weirdly like she knew me, but probably just because I was gawking at her. C’mon, Teal! Hold your $#!% together. We all know I don’t do well around my idols and I would actually see Kara again about ten minutes later and repeat this interaction exactly.

(Kara was my second celebrity sighting. I shared the elevator with Dathan on the way to t-shirt Coke bottle pick up. Over the weekend, I rode the elevator with nearly every running celebrity possible, including multiple times with Deena. She is absolutely as sweet as you imagine her to be.)

Thursday night we went to an athlete’s welcome party at the California Science Center. Brazilian dancers greeted us at the door and we strolled down a red carpet into an exhibit where the space shuttle Endeavour hung from the ceiling. We feasted on a carb-heavy buffet as Meb made a speech urging us to believe in ourselves, and when Meb tells you to believe in yourself, you listen.

On Friday morning Husband joined me for a shake out run that involved scoping out the Grammy preparations. (The Grammys were Monday night at the Staples Center, i.e. next to the hotel and the start/finish line.) It was fun to get a glimpse of the space that I’d see on TV, swarming with celebrities, a few days later.

I was still avoiding all updates about the weather, but that gig was up that afternoon. At the mandatory athlete meeting, they started the show with a run down of the hour-by-hour predicted temperatures. (I suppose ignorance isn’t exactly smart at a hot marathon.) They did tell us they were adding sponges to the course, so that was good news. The better news was our bibs: I had been hoping for a personalized bib (treatment usually reserved for the pros but given to everyone in 2012), but after no t-shirts I had my doubts. But the organizers pulled through: a personalized bib for everyone! It’s dumb how happy these little things make me, but that bib (my one memento) will be framed.

Slowly, over the course of the day, and everyone saying repeatedly, “It will not be a PR day,” I began to accept the inevitable. My PR goals slipped out of my desperate grasp. My new goal became to take whatever God gave me on that day and see where that put me. After a few miles I would know. I planned (hoped) to accept it.

Saturday morning I woke up too early, mostly due to jet lag, and because the race was so late in the day that everything was too early. I tried to stall eating breakfast and killed time watching E! News. (Weirdest marathon morning ever…) Finally it was time to get ready, put on my fancy bib, blast my pump up music. As a final touch to my race day outfit, I added Lauren and Nina’s names to my hands. (USATF has so many uniform rules that our normal patches weren’t allowed. I reasoned that writing on my hands would be more special and more visible to me mid-race.) Lauren and Nina were two of the toughest runners I’ve ever met and I knew if I just tried to channel their grittiness, I’d get through whatever the day brought me. 

I get by with a little help from my teammates.

Then it was off to the starting line. Crowds were already out and race staff had to hold them back to let Galen Rupp out of the athlete’s area to do his warm up. Then they held the crowd back as I walked in. Little old me! Getting the star treatment. Later I did a short warm up on a stretch of road blocked off and surrounded by gawking spectators. I felt like a celebrity. Soak it in.

On my way to the line, I shoved some sponges that had been soaking in ice down my sports bra (the poor man’s cooling vest). Standing in the holding area, I dunked extra ice cubes down my back and poured water on my head. My efforts cooled me for about thirty seconds.

THE START (Miles 0-2.2)

After the men came through (they did a 2.2 mile loop before we started), we were taken to the line. And in seemingly no time at all, we were off. I tried not to start too fast, just stay relaxed. But before we passed the first mile marker, my Garmin buzzed. Arrgg, stupid Teal! I usually turn off the automatic lap feature, since the GPS isn’t 100% accurate and it gets more and more off as a marathon progresses. Instead, I prefer to hit the button at each mile marker, but I had forgotten to program my watch for that. What a rookie mistake! I’m toeing the line with the pros and I forgot how to work my watch.

Forget the watch. I’d go off the clocks stationed at each mile marker and calculate the splits in my head. I came through mile two at 6:16 pace, which I took as an okay sign. But right then, immediately, I knew time was of no importance. While I had hoped to start conservatively, knocking down to 6:06s (sub-2:40 pace) just didn’t seem in the cards. But I was also immediately at peace with this. I was taking whatever God gave me, which was “not a PR day.” The larger goal had always been to enjoy this race, so I was going to do it. Forget the time.

LAP 1 (Miles 2.2-8.2)

After an initial 2.2-mile loop, the rest of the course consisted of a 6-mile loop we ran four times. Most of the 6 miles was an out-and-back on Figueroa Street.

On any given sunny day, if you stand at the corner of Olympic Boulevard and look north up Figueroa, you’ll see a shaded downtown. If you look south, you’ll see endless sun. Except for the first 2.2-mile loop, we spent the entire race on the southern portion. I’m not saying the course was designed specifically to torture us, but it did seem designed to give us a hefty dose of vitamin D and sunburns.

I hadn’t driven the course like usual so I spent the first of the four loops trying to get my bearings. Team Teal was out in force, in bright teal shirts, so the first lap’s goal was to find where everyone was stationed and wave. For those that know my running style, the second part of that sentence is huge. I rarely wave. I rarely do anything but stay hyper focused, staring straight ahead, with a severe case of RBF. But for the first half of the race, I waved at all my wonderful supporters—friends, family, teammates, Loopsters. I hoped I could show them some sign of my immense appreciation that they were there. And convey my goal: I’m going to enjoy this race. As much as possible.

Photographic evidence of a mid-race wave.

Before the race, lots of people talked about the many turns on the course, most of which were down near the USC campus and Exposition Park, the southern most part of the loop. Honestly, the turns weren’t so bad and this section of the course had the most shade, which was incredibly welcome. The real obstacles were curbs to hop on and off of, a sandy section, a crowned road, a clock stationed in the middle of a curve such that one volunteer’s job for the entire race was telling every runner (four times each) not to hit their head, and a smell of horse manure. But a little shade! Ahhh shade.

Besides finding all of Team Teal, lap one was also spent trying to find a pack to stay with. Around the turns at USC and Exposition Park, I found myself side by side with Rachel Hyland who I had met briefly at Jacksonville. It seemed like a friendly pack going just the right pace, so I tried to tuck in.

At each water stop, though, the pack got broken up. Despite my complaining about the non-t-shirt, the late start time, and the weather (alright, that last one is not entirely the organizers fault), the water stops were well organized. There were over 200 women in the race, all wanting their unique blend of fluids/gels and they accommodated by having the longest elite water stop in the history of water stops: 25 tables with 8 bottles at each table, each bottle spaced a foot apart. (Plus an identical set up for the men.) Compared to the mass mess of water bottles at CIM, it was a complete breeze to get my fluids. I just had to look for the 8th bottle on the 12th table each time.

But the most refreshing part of the whole course was the sponge station, about a mile from the top of the loop. The sponges were a last minute addition and as the race wore on it become clear how desperate the organizers were. The “sponges” started as small pieces of official looking cloths; by the second lap they were rally towels (which were great: so big!); and then they became haphazardly cut up t-shirts. It didn’t matter. They fact that were kept in ice water and handed to us dripping with cold relief was amazing. I squeezed them on my head, shoulders, face. On that first lap, I got a strong taste of salt after my drenching. Why are these things being soaked in salt water?? Oh wait… that’s me. Completely caked in salt after less than one lap. Yikes. (Around mile 5, someone on the USC campus was cheering, “You’re doing great, you’re not even sweating yet!” I immediately knew that was a lie, equivalent to when spectators tell you that you look awesome at mile 23, when actually you look like a tomato-faced, wobbly drunk two steps from collapsing.)

Near the U-turn at the top of the loop (by far the worst of the turns, we really just turned around a cone), I heard people cheering for Colleen De Reuck—a four-time Olympian, world record holder, and, at 51, the oldest athlete (aka the most indomitable) in the field. I glanced to my left: oh my gosh, I’m running with Colleen De Reuck!! See how awesome this race is? Enjoy it. New pack goal: stay with Colleen.

Running with Colleen De Reuck (black shorts)

LAP 2 (Miles 8.2-14.2)

I had been calculating splits in my head purely to distract myself. I wasn’t analyzing over/under for any particular pace. When I came through ten miles right around 1:02 I realized I was running 6:12 pace. 6:12 pace? That’s CIM pace! Is my math right?? [Recalculates approximately eight times…] If I keep this up I could PR. Even a one second PR is a PR, which would be amazing given this day... For a shining moment a little hope came back. But then mile 11 was the slowest yet and mile 12 wasn’t great… and it snowballed from there. At halfway I saw I was on pace for a sub-2:44 but: That is not a PR or anything and who the fudge cares. It’s freaking hot and this is not a PR day. I didn’t look at the clocks at all after that.

Around my mile twelve or thirteen, the men started passing me. I’d been excited about this moment: my first chance to see how the men were doing and possibly be on TV for all my supporters back home. Tyler Pennel came by leading Meb and Galen. A little while later (it actually seemed like a long while), Jared Ward came flying by. On the TV, they cut to commercial just before I make in on screen. My one moment of fame: gone. In this stretch, I also managed to lose my pack (including Colleen De Reuck). Things were taking a turn for the worse.

LAP 3 (Miles 14.2-20.2)

Miles 15-20 are often the hardest mentally. The miles have started to accumulate in your legs, the adrenaline is wearing off, and still you’re so far from the finish. I knew going in that the four-lap nature of this race would make this exponentially worse. Two laps down and TWO WHOLE LAPS TO GO. Oh God, I have to do this entire thing, from Dumb Cone Turn Around to Shady Horse Smell TWO MORE TIMES??

It also got harder on this lap because, not only was I tired and hot, but the field was stretching out and there were fewer people to stick with. On the second lap, Brother had told me I was in about 100th place. On the third lap, he said I was around 80th. But I had not passed 20 people… people were just dropping like flies. (Or like marathoners in the hottest Trials ever. A quarter of the women’s field and a third of the men’s field would drop out.)

Dropping out enters my mind in every marathon (umm hello, marathons are effing hard) and it certainly did in this one. I wanted to stop and just hang out with my support team. Take a load off, have a cold drink, end this nonsense. But even as those demons started talking I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. This was THE TRIALS. I did not work for seven years to make it here, fly my overly enthusiastic and supportive family to LA, and train my behind off to drop out. I wasn’t injured. I was hot, but not in obvious grave danger. I could still put one foot in front of the other. And so I would.

I thought about Lauren and Nina a lot. I wanted to make them proud, to channel their toughness, their never give up or give in spirit. And I felt like I was failing them. I was slowing down with every mile (maybe? I actually have no idea since I wasn’t looking at splits, but this seems almost assuredly true). They would have toughed this out better. But I would finish. I could at least do that for them. One foot in front of the other.

I was trying to stay hydrated as best I could. One common critique of the organizers is that they should have added another water station given the day’s heat, but I tried to counter this by carrying my bottle for much longer than usual. The water stops were about three miles apart and I carried my bottle for a mile or two each time. I had filled them much higher than usual and still nearly finished most of them. The liquid was hot and gross, but I was desperate not to repeat Boston 2014 and get wildly dehydrated.

Clinging to my bottle. [Photo credit: Cheryl Young]

On the third lap, I grabbed an extra water bottle (they had plain water available to everyone) to dump on my head. But the water was so HOT it provided exactly zero relief. I didn’t do that again. (When watching the broadcast later I saw Amy Cragg pour water on herself A LOT and I have no idea how it provided her with any relief. It was like taking a hot shower.)

Through USC and back up Figueroa: try to put one foot in front of the other, dispel thoughts of dropping out, hold on to my water bottles for miles, look forward to the sponges. I had started tucking the sponges around my neck like they do in the Ironman; sometimes the haphazardly cut rags were flopping down my arm. I figured I looked really weird but did not care one bit. Just get me to the sweet relief of the sponges!! I started squeezing them into my mouth, which I had previously thought was totally gross (before the race they had assured us they were sanitized and this was perfectly okay), but then I learned the relief of actual coldness as opposed to hot Gatorade and gave up caring. (Galen Rupp can also be seen doing this on the broadcast. People are saying that was weird. To which I say: don’t judge until you’ve been there.)

With "sponge" (purple rag) on my shoulders.

As I passed by the start/finish to head out on my last loop I saw Meb draped in the American flag. I never doubted he would make the team (I assumed the three I had seen together had all made it—Tyler, Galen, Meb) but seeing him in the flag still gave me a boost of happiness.

LAP 4 (Miles 20.2-26.2)

The last lap is like a victory lap. That’s what I told myself before the race and during the third lap. The third lap is the hardest not because it gets easier on the fourth lap, but because you’re closer to the finish and the mental battle lessens slightly. This is the last time I pass the sponges going this way, the last time I see my cousins on this side of the road, the last time I go through USC… Enjoy it. Or—more realistically—just keep going. I can’t give up once I make it to twenty miles. It’s too close. Finish it.

The top three women zipped by going the other direction when I was approaching the water stop between miles 21 and 22. Almost too late I realized I might miss grabbing my bottle because I was so desperate to see where Kara was. I did manage to both get my bottle and see Kara, a minor victory 22 miles into a slog fest.

I also told myself before the race that I would try to pick people off in these miles. Who knew what my pace would be like, but if I could focus on trying to catch anyone near me that might keep me going. Only it didn’t. Not at all. I did catch a few people, especially on the last stretch up Figueroa, but it didn’t seem like a victory—it wasn’t my doing, but their unraveling. Again, Lauren and Nina entered my mind and I wondered if I was doing enough. But all I could do was finish. I was still hoarding my water bottles, reluctant to get rid of the last one even though I was less than 2 miles from the finish.

My aunt has a video of me from this section and it’s embarrassing to watch because I am honestly JOGGING. At the mile 25 marker I looked at the clock for the first time since halfway and realized I was on pace to finish just over 2:50. Huh. I was actually pleasantly surprised it wasn’t slower, but the time meant nothing to me.

Lonely last miles.

I still grabbed sponges at the last station, with maybe a mile to go. I was that desperate for relief, even so close to the end. Going into the last out and back my hands started tingling, reminding me of Boston. It doesn’t matter, I’m almost there. I’m going to make it.

Finally I made the last turn. I gave my thanks to God, kissed my hands for Lauren and Nina, and finished.

DONE

I grabbed a water bottle, stole a bag of ice, and then shuffled my way over to get my bag. I passed Kara trying to talk to the media through her tears and I felt for her. But surprisingly—shockingly—I was not in tears myself. I had not run my goal time, or a PR, or anywhere close to it, but I was keeping my head up high.

Well, keeping my head as high as I could, given I was alternating between feeling extremely thirsty and debating puking. I stood pointlessly in the athlete’s area for a bit while I tried to figure out what to do with myself, and then finally found the strength to grab my bags and find my family.

After many extremely sweaty hugs, I went to lunch with Team Teal, then to a Brooks party with GRC (and Desi!), then more celebratory food and drinks. The only time I came close to crying was in the shower when the water hit my worst chafe ever: scars on my stomach from my Best Bib Ever. (It’s okay, Bib, I’ll still frame you.)

It was “not a PR day,” so I did not accomplish that goal. (Later my teammate would tell me that my time (2:50:35) is actually my second fastest marathon time. And when I looked at the results much later, I saw how few women ran my once-seemingly-realistic goal of sub-2:40. That time got 15th place. 15th! The women who ran 2:40 Saturday are out of my league; that time was just never realistic for me on that day.)

But my number one goal was to make it through this season healthy (check!) and to enjoy this race (check!) Honestly, my biggest regret is pretty silly: I never once looked up at the LA Coliseum. We passed it four times on our Exposition Park loops and, as a huge Olympics nerd, I had been excited to see it. We even looped back so we were running directly at it. I just never looked up. The first lap I was busy figuring out where I was going, but I have no excuses for the other three laps. For all my “enjoy this race” attitude, my smiling and waving, I still was too hyper-focused to take in the scenery. I guess some things never change.

But one thing changed. Later, my friend Kyle would update the Salty Running group about seeing me shortly after the finish and sum in up perfectly, “Best of all, she was SMILING.” Mission accomplished.

Walking to lunch with Husband.
All smiles. 

Dream big,

Teal

Whether it’s the Weather...? Doubts and Dubious Excuses

Oh, the humidity. It’s back. And it brought with it a whole mess of doubts.

Some of my training (track workouts, ten milers, tempo runs) has gone well, better than ever. But the workouts most specific to the marathon—from which I get 99% of my confidence—have been abysmal.

I blame the weather.

The first marathon pace workout was a disaster, but I told myself it was the first one, and I just needed to re-callus myself to the hurt of those workouts. But then the second was the Exact. Same. Pace. What?! No. I’m in better shape than that. It was a little warm (emphasis on a little) and a little humid (again, emphasis on little), but I was melting. I had to reroute to find a water fountain so I could dunk my head in it. I vowed to go earlier next time.

And next time came. It was going to be a hot day, so I got up before the crack of dawn to get out the door as early as possible. And I ran the Exact. Same. (Way too slow) pace. Again. What the hell? This time it was a lot humid, but early wake up calls don’t help there. (In fact, it’s often more humid earlier, but hotter later: what to do??) I tried to tell myself it wasn’t that humid, because I know that you can go faster if you trick your brain into believing the temperature is more ideal than it really is. (Although I’m not sure this has been tested for humidity.)

But it didn’t work, and the workout was abysmal.

If you passed by me during this run, I was the girl in only a sports bra and shorts, who looked like she just jumped in the Potomac. Within a few miles, I could wring out my shorts. (Too much sweaty detail?) For comparison, some other people running in the same weather were wearing long-sleeve shirts* (!!!) or pants. (Mostly Capri pants, but still pants.)

Try as I might, I can never fully capture just how sweaty I am.
These pictures don't do it justice.

Obviously, people’s bodies vary a lot when it comes to dealing with different elements: heat, humidity, cold, wind. If there were one thing I’d change about my body, it’d be how it deals with heat and humidity. Or doesn’t deal, rather. If you asked me that question years ago, I’d have a different—and more superficial—answer. Running has changed my mindset about my body substantially: there’s nothing like running marathons to make you proud of what your body is capable of. (I may have itty bitty arms and a disproportionately big butt, but that combo can get me to the Olympic Trials starting line, so I don’t give a damn.) But running has also made me not appreciate whatever it is about my body that makes it melt in moderately high (or really just moderate) temps and humidity. Whatever the people wearing long sleeves have, I want it. Whatever the people who ran 2014’s Boston and called the weather ideal have, I want it. Whatever the people who do well in Chicago’s hot years have, I want it. (I did run pretty well there in 2011—after melting in 2010—where did that Teal go?)

Of course, part of me wonders whether it’s the weather. Maybe there’s something about my training (physiologically or psychologically) that is off. Maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m a wuss who can no longer handle the hardest workouts. Maybe the long-sleeve wearers are just tougher than me. It’s easier to blame the weather than to barrel down this doubt spiral, but even cursing the weather incessantly (for an entire blog post!) doesn’t push these doubts away.

I’m telling myself running in warmer weather will make me a better runner, whether race day is warm or cool. (Please, God, let it be cool!) But the damage to my confidence seems irreparable. How can I tell myself I’ll hit paces on race day that I can’t hit in practice?

Yes, the other workouts are going well; that should tell me something. But the most marathon-specific workouts have flopped, so my marathon-specific confidence has flopped as well. (For the record, this is the time in training I often start doubting everything, but without the big workouts to back me up, it’s worse than usual.)

This weekend I’m running the Wildwood Half, my last race before the marathon. Part of me thinks my early season goal for this half is completely crazy, as proven by my marathon pace disasters. But another part of me hopes I can live up to those expectations, silence the doubts, and get back to believing my marathon goal is possible.

Here’s hoping the weather’s nice.

(It’s actually not going to be that nice, so I’ve decided to stop checking on it in an attempt to not discourage myself. No Negative Self Talk is becoming No Negative Weather Reports.)

Dream big,

Teal

*Some people wear long-sleeve shirts to block the sun, which is completely reasonable. In super sunny conditions (like Badwater), long sleeves are the best bet. But it was cloudy on the day in question, so that wasn’t their reasoning. It just really wasn’t hot to anyone but me.

Science Friday: Oxidative Stress is Hot Stuff

In last week’s post, I discussed hot weather training and how its benefits persist even in cold weather; since your body has to work harder in the heat, you are forcing it to toughen up. This translates to improvements that last even when the stimulus is gone. (The same way training at altitude pays off at sea level.)

This week, I came across a study that discusses one of the ways this may occur, i.e. one of the ways heat forces lasting improvements. Here, subjects biked for an hour in different temperatures: 45° (cold), 68° (room temperature), or 91° (called “warm,” but this warm-weather wuss would call that “hot”). Afterwards, the subjects were kept in their temperature-controlled rooms for three hours. (It’s unclear what they were doing for those three hours. They were given dry clothes, something to drink, and got to lay down, which sounds like a perfect recipe for a post-workout nap, but they were periodically poked and prodded by the researchers, so maybe not.) Blood samples obtained over the three hours were examined for markers of oxidative stress. When oxygen is broken down by mitochondria to produce energy (as happens normally and to an increased extent during exercise), reactive oxygen species are also produced in the process. Oxidative stress occurs with the overproduction of these species, which are thought to damage DNA and accelerate aging and disease. (This is why people tout antioxidants, which sop up these species.) In the study, the subjects that exercised and recovered in the warm room had the highest levels of oxidative stress.

But oxidative stress is not necessarily a bad thing. Like weight lifting or running, it causes a stress to your muscles that forces them to rebuild stronger. In this case, oxidative stress encourages cells to make their own antioxidants and increase mitochondria, which make all that wonderful energy. This increase in oxidative stress in the heat may be one of the explanations for the benefits discussed last week. Just like heat demands us to deal with less blood pumping to our muscles, it also forces us to deal with reactive oxygen species. The muscles clean up the mess and patch us back up, better than ever.

I wished the experiment had also examined differences between exercising and recovering in the heat. (A way to test this would have involved everyone first exercising in the heat, followed by half the subjects recovering at room temperature and the other half recovering in a hot room.) Recently, there have been warnings against going overboard on recovery aids. In some regards, the soreness, inflammation, and—in this case—oxidative species caused by a run are a good thing. Ice baths, ibuprofen, or perhaps even cooling off in a comfortable room may cut your body too much slack. The researchers didn’t test that here, but it’s an interesting idea.

Antioxidant supplements have come under fire recently for a similar reason. As I described in a post about vitamin C, taking antioxidant supplements (which contain a much higher dose than found naturally in fruits and vegetables) may block our bodies’ adaptations to exercise. (An interesting take on why fruits and vegetables are better than synthesized pills is here.) Again, it’s a case of overdosing on recovery; trying to force your body to bounce back, when the best improvements are made by letting your body recover naturally, with whole foods, time, and perhaps even a post-run nap in a warm spot.

Dream big,
Teal

Science Friday: Embrace the Heat

It’s mid-July. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s horrible.

Running in the heat is miserable, as I’ve experienced in a few races and every time summer rolls around. As you heat up, your heart starts beating faster to pump more blood to the skin, where the heat can be released. Sweat rate increases to help cool the skin through evaporation. (The reason humidity is such a nuisance is that the air is so saturated with moisture, the moisture on your skin doesn’t have anywhere to go and the cooling effect of sweat is lost.) Running performance plummets because your heart is working harder than usual, but the oxygen-rich blood is being shipped to the skin, not to your muscles. In addition, sweating can lead to dehydration and electrolyte loss.

Every summer we are reminded what to do to exercise safely: run in the shade, early in the morning, in technical clothes (Dri-fit, etc.); drink water and/or electrolyte beverages before, after, and possibly during runs; and accept slower times or even a workout cut short. We are comforted that after a few weeks (about two), things will get better. Our bodies will adapt by sweating sooner, more aggressively, and forfeiting less salt (yes, being super sweaty is a good thing). The heat won’t annihilate our workouts as much; we’ll be able to go faster with less effort and lower heart rates. We’ll be acclimated.

Yes, a couple weeks in the heat means it’s less terrible to be in the heat. But this news is not preventing me from daydreaming of moving to Antarctica. What does hot weather training have to offer, besides a pile of drenched clothes and a sports bra tan line?

A 2010 study by Santiago Lorenzo and colleagues details an unexpected reward. In the study, competitive cyclists were split into two groups. At the start, both groups endured a number of physiological tests in both cool (55°) and warm (100°) conditions. One group then spent ten sessions riding at an easy pace in a hot room (104°, aka too hot to try this at home) while the other group did the same workouts in a cool room (55°, aka ideal exercising weather). After the ten sessions, both groups were again tested in cool and warm conditions.

A summary of the results is shown in the graph below. As you’d expect, when tested in the heat (black bars) the experimental group that practiced in the heat improved across the board: increased VO2max (the maximal amount of oxygen that can be taken in and used), lactate threshold (the point above which lactate accumulates in the blood; approximately tempo run pace), Qcmax (the maximal cardiac output, how much blood the heart is pumping), and time trial performance. They were acclimated after the ten sessions. The control group that practiced in the cool room was not acclimated to the heat, and the group's scores hovered around zero; they didn’t improve much from the start to the end of the study. Not surprisingly, their time trial performance worsened in the heat.

What was surprising to the researchers were the results from the tests in the cool conditions (white bars). Even under these conditions, the group that practiced in the heat did much better compared to the group that practiced at ideal temperatures. Again, both physiological measures and performance improved in the heat-acclimated group while the cool-training group remained the same. Heat training led to improvements no matter the conditions.

As Steve Magness mentions in his new book The Science of Running, heat training is analogous to altitude training. The stresses our bodies have to deal with in the heat (less blood flow and oxygen to the muscles, similar to training at high altitude) force a number of adaptations, including increased blood volume. In the summer, you get an “altitude-like effect” without having to move to Flagstaff or Mammoth Lakes. (And it might even discourage dreams of Antarctica.) When the weather cools, your body will be stronger and tougher from its heat training.

So embrace the heat (safely). Come September, you might have a shiny new PR because of it.

Dream big and don’t sweat the sweating,

Teal

Summertime, and the Livin's Sweaty

It's been a record-breaking, hot, humid mess on the East Coast lately. The Washington Post had an article this past weekend (when temperatures hit the triple digits) where half the people complained incessantly and half the people told everyone to suck it up and deal with it. The latter people even eschewed air conditioning. A fair warning: if you are one of the latter people, you can skip this post, because I consider myself strongly in the former category. I will admit I've gotten better over the years, but I hate being hot. It's the old standby, you can always put more clothes on, but you can't keep stripping layers off. Of course there are some good things about summer that I try my hardest to remember, because I'm sure I'll miss them when winter rolls around.

Pros and Cons of Summer Running:

Pros:

1. Sunlight. Extra hours of sunlight makes running before work or after work so much more pleasant in the summer. Winter mornings are miserable and dark, and force you to wear ridiculous things like headlamps.

2. Cold water. It's obviously available year-round, but it's so much more delicious in the summer. There is absolutely nothing better than cold water after a hot workout. Splashed on your face, poured down your throat, it's simple and amazing. In that moment it's the best thing ever created. (Even better than Diet Coke.)

Summer breakfast = delicious!

3. Fruit. This isn't entirely running related, except that I started caring a lot more about eating healthy when I started running. And one aspect of that was eating more fruit, which isn't hard because fruit is delicious. All year long, my post run breakfast is yogurt with fruit on top, but in the winter I have to settle for frozen berries. In the summer it's fruit heaven. I go to the Farmer's Market near my apartment and load up. I could eat yogurt topped with fresh fruit for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it's so delicious.

Cons:

1. Sweat. I'm a heavy sweater; you only have to go on one run with me (in any season!) and I'll prove that. When I start running, the sweat goes flying off my body in every direction. (I will say that sweating while running is much more enjoyable then just standing around sweating waiting for the bus or in line at the Farmer's Market loading up on fruit. When there's a purpose to it, and an excuse for it, it's not as bad.) I arrive home from even a relatively easy run completely soaked, and there's always a moment where I seriously wonder if I will ever cool down again.

2. Sunlight. I'm a mix of Irish, English, and Scottish ancestry, a.k.a. pale as a ghost. When summer rolls around there are three options: (1) Stay inside, (2) look like a tomato (the one fruit I don't like), or (3) apply layer after layer of sunscreen. Sunscreen and running don't mix well, but it's a must. Once the sweat starts (immediately), it mixes with the sunscreen into a pasty white (even more pasty white than my skin) goop that makes you feel even hotter and sweatier and more ready for the shower. It's completely unpleasant and makes you ache for cooler days with less punishing UV rays. (Completely unsponsored product plug: Neutrogena Wet Skin Sunblock Spray is clear and light and not as bad as other sunscreens. The one problem is I always feel like I have half a bottle left but can't get any more out. So it's a bit of a rip-off, but worth it.) 

3. Weekend mornings. To most people weekends are for sleeping in. To runners, weekends are for long runs. When really long runs get combined with really hot days, it can mean getting up and getting the miles started earlier than you would on a weekday. You wake up that early, and guess what? It's still hot. I'm not running those kind of miles at the moment (I'm skipping a fall marathon this year), so perhaps that's why I'm not complaining as much as past years. (Hey, this list could be a lot longer.)

There is one common thread between running in winter or summer. (Spring and fall, ideal running seasons, don't fit in this debate.) If you run in the extreme cold, or even moderate cold that DC feels, people think you're crazy. If you run in the extreme heat, or the humidity fest that DC feels, people think you're crazy. Even before headlamps and sunscreen goop dripping everywhere gets factored in. The thing is, hot or cold, I kind of like being a crazy runner. 

Dream big and stay cool,
Teal