Let Me Explain

"If a person's bodyweight is at least 20% higher than it should be, he or she is considered obese. If your Body Mass Index (BMI) is between 25 and 29.9 you are considered overweight. If your BMI is 30 or over you are considered obese." - Medical News Today

That is fact. It's not an opinion on the topic, but merely a definition. I don't believe you have to be skinny to be healthy. Would I like to lose weight? Absolutely. Have I lost weight? Sure have. But that's not what this is about. This is about running. Mostly running with a side of other fitnessy stuff... and a WHOLE lot of goofy.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Marathon Training - Week 13 Wrap Up

Sept 10th-Sept 16th ~ 29.1 Miles

Day 86 ~ Recovery Run (3.1)
Day 87 ~ REST
Day 88 ~ Boot Camp & Run (3 Miles)
Day 89 ~ Run (4.07)
Day XX ~ REST
Day 90 ~ Cooper Young 4 Miler
Day 91 ~ Long Run (15 miles)

(One of these days, I'll get the numbers right again. UGH.)

FOOD PREP MEAL -  Thai Quinoa Salad Bowl

There was a time, in the not too distant past, when I struggled sooooo hard to fit 20 miles into my training schedule every week without killing myself, burning out, or absolutely hating running. I won't be so bold as to say that time has past, because I'm sure it hasn't. I'm sure there will be weeks in the future where running at all will be a chore. That's real. But we're not going to talk about what the future MIGHT bring. We're going to talk about the fact I put up almost 30 miles last week and I didn't die. That last part... the not dying part... is important, because Saturday, I honestly thought my death was upon us. I'm going to go ahead and tell you everything I did wrong to make Saturday so hard.

First... it's important for you to know that 15 miles was my longest distance to date.

Second... it's even more important for you to know that I'm one of the most stubborn people you'll ever meet in your life, and if you doubt that, Kirsten - the crazy lady helping keep me in check - will gladly back me up on this.

So, Friday night I did the Cooper-Young 4 miler. It's a great race, known for the epic party throughout one of the coolest neighborhoods in the city. I signed up for it a LONG time back... so long ago my bib number was like 134 or something. Upwards of 2,000 people signed up for that race. Anyway, I told myself I was going to be a good girl and take it nice and steady. I honest to god thought I was, and at the half mile point RunKeeper told me I was running at about a nine and a half minute pace. C'mon, Allison, slow your ass down. Everyone knows this is a huge problem for me. Before the first mile ended, I'd had a shot of Fireball, and I swore I was slowing down.

The first mile was behind me and I'd managed to get myself to about a 10:00 pace. Awesome. But not good enough. I was going to pay for this tomorrow on my long run. I just knew it. 1.5 miles, 10:20 average pace. 2.0 miles, 10:17 average pace. Then I came up on another guy offering Fireball. What the hell, right? It worked a little. Why not try some more? I pretty much did intervals after that. Walk whenever. Run whenever. Just enjoy the party. And right before the last turn, maybe a quarter of a mile from the finish, someone was handing out Vodka gummies. After all I'd had, I couldn't turn down booze AND sugar.

I got home that night around the time I normally go to bed on Friday nights. I was wound up from running and my husband and a couple friends had just come in from throwing darts. They wanted to throw a few more rounds in the garage. I stayed up and talked to them. Before I knew it, it was 10:30.

Oh. My. God. So late!

All jokes aside, I slept like crap that night. I remember checking the clock at midnight, 2am, 3am, and then at 4am I just decided to stay up since it was about that time anyway.

And to make matters worse, I didn't properly fuel for Saturday because I had a race Friday night and didn't want to eat anything too heavy...

So as you can imagine, Saturday was pretty miserable for me. Wait. No. That's too broad of a statement. Saturday started out awesome. For eleven miles I felt like I could conquer the world. Then all the bad things started to happen. It started with my thighs burning on even the slightest incline. Then fatigue set in and my back started to hurt. My shoulders hurt. My head hurt. Then my stomach hurt. Every time I tried to run I felt like I was going to hurl. I spent four miles bitching, moaning, complaining, and making every excuse why I couldn't run anymore, to the point I told Kirsten if she would just leave me she could get on with her day. Stubborn cow stayed with me the whole time. <3

Moral of the story, don't deviate from your routine and expect a stellar performance, especially when you're adjusting to new distances or speeds, or even new routines. Your body will real fast teach you that you are not a.) the exception to the rule, or b.) half as bad ass as you think you are. I've definitely learned my lesson. Soooo... I guess I should strap on a Nun's habit for the duration of my training. HAHAHA!!!

Takeaway? 26.2 miles in like 5 or so hours doesn't sound so scary now that I've squeezed in 22 miles in less than 48 hours. It probably doesn't compare, but as of this moment, I believe I can do it.