Books and adventures

8 kilometres' worth of run commuting and 2 hours of wall climbing logged today. I even managed to climb a route that seemed impossible last time. Then when we came home, I saw that Runner's World had arrived in the post. It's been a good day.

Even if Runner's World tends to get a bit repetitive sometimes, it's always exciting to see that a new issue is out. To feed my addiction between runs, I also sometimes buy books about running. I'm not so interested in reading about how to improve my times and such; the most interesting books I've read are about adventure.

It's almost as fun to read about people's running adventures as to have one myself (almost). One of my favourite running books is "Born to run" by Christopher McDougall, another "Ultramarathon man" by Dean Karnazes. Both books sing praise to the amazing feats humans can achieve, whether they're a reclusive Indian tribe or a yuppie adrenaline junky.

Yesterday I received another eagerly-awaited package in the post. I'd ordered some new books, one of which was "Take a seat" by Dominic Gill. Gill recounts his adventure cycling on a tandem bike from Alaska to Patagonia, picking up strangers along the way to help him reach his goal. Gill also captured his adventure on film, which we saw about a month ago on BANFF film festival. It was really inspiring to watch a man set out on such a great adventure. Imagine all the amazing places he must have seen, all the kind and generous people he must have met! All the perils, all the hunger, tiredness and cold, all the uncertainty of reaching his goal, in short everything that made this trip special. Can't wait to read the book.

Now, I have no plans to do anything remotely similar. Yet there's something about pushing boundaries that speaks to my heart. Maybe it's the joy of discovery, seeing new places. Maybe it's the sense of achievement. Maybe it's both. Whatever it is, I have a feeling that one day it will take me further than a marathon.

Some much needed rest

Last Friday I was like a drug addict with withdrawal symptoms, who was suddenly let loose in a meth factory. I went on a spree, overjoyed that I could finally run again after almost two weeks of illness. I started running when I finished work and didn't stop until I came home last night.

Ok, I might be exaggerating a little bit. But I have been out running 4 days in a row, apparently trying to make up for lost time. Today I had planned a day's rest, and here I am, resting. I feel really tired, though not because of training, but because of two long work days one after the other. I even -gasp!- took the car to work this morning. Here I was yesterday, on my way to work, laughing at all the losers stuck in their cars during rush hour, while I ran past them, elegantly yet vigorously. This morning I was the loser, scraping ice off the car windows and cursing because we still hadn't put the bloody winter tyres on.

Tomorrow it's back to run commuting, but with a twist. On schedule: run to husband's workplace (about 8 km) and then go climbing. Should be fun!

A nice start to the week

Today I ran both to work and then home after work. I'm so happy I can run again, that I do it twice per day now.

Well, not exactly. See, when I run home from work, I usually take a detour so that the total distance is 10 km. This morning I ran straight to work, and then in the evening straight home. So I only ran a total of 10 km anyway.

This is becoming a necessity in order to get my training to fit in with the rest of my life. Days are getting much shorter now, and it's not as easy to get out and run at 5.30 in the morning any more. Nor is it fun to finish work at 6, get home as soon as possible, eat something, wait an hour or two to digest it and then go for a run at 8. Some times I want to stay at home in the evenings, and, I don't know, be with my husband or something.

Thankfully, not all days are this long. On the days I finish work earlier, it's not a problem to take the long way home. But at 6, after a long day at work, I just want to get home and rest. Running home does not take much longer than cycling home. Not if you cycle as slowly as I do. In fact, I think that it only takes about 5 minutes longer. So there's really no reason to cycle (an activity I don't particularly enjoy just for commuting) when I can run.

Besides, if I cycled home, I wouldn't have had the joy of overtaking a cyclist who was struggling up a hill. Twice.

But it's not just necessity that pushes me to run commute. This morning, when I came to work and after I'd had a shower, I felt the endorphins rushing through my veins. I felt happier, more positive, more energetic. It's a perfect way to start your day.

In order for run commuting to go smoothly, it's of course necessary to prepare. Either have a good rucksack to carry a change of clothes in, or leave a change of clothes at work the day before. A great guide to run commuting can be found here (in swedish):
http://snorkfrokens.blogspot.com/2009/09/transportlopning-1-4.html

How I started running

I wasn't a very active kid. My family was more academically inclined and the only sport we enjoyed was watching basketball on TV.

One day, when I was in 6th grade, we were told by our teachers that our school would participate in an athletics competition against other schools in town. No more details than that. What followed was a frenetic attempt to find who the best pupils were in a multitude of athletic events: long jump, shot put, long distance etc. How long the long distance was, I cannot remember. What I do remember is that we had to run around the school building once or twice, and that I was out of breath after running a hundred meters. I just wasn't long distance material.

Short distance, on the other hand, that's where I shone. Or almost shone. What follows is an embarrassing story about how I stole another girl's thunder.

Each class's pupils were to race against each other, to find out who the fastest boy and girl were. We were 4 classes in every grade, and the 4 best would form a relay team. When it was my class's turn, all the girls lined up to run a 50 meter course.

I knew I couldn't win. I had never thought of myself as athletic, let alone fast. The fastest girl in our class, in the whole school even, was a girl named Stephanie. Stephanie was 2 meters tall, or at least it felt that way. She had long, slim legs, that could probably cover half the school yard in one small leap. I didn't stand a chance.

Our teacher stood with a whistle in his hand. We kneeled down to starting position. The tension was palpable. Our anticipation grew with each passing second. Stephanie was next to me. I could hear her breathing, completely focused. Although I couldn't win next to such a gazelle, I didn't plan on coming in last either.

The teacher blew the whistle. What happened next was unfathomable. I shot forward towards the fence that served as the finish line. At the same time I caught a movement to my right, an event that seemed to unfold in slow motion. Stephanie, the school champion, had tripped over her long, slim legs, and fallen. I kept running. The fence seemed to be miles away.

I won. Not in the fairest way, but I won. I couldn't understand at that point what that entailed, but I was happy. Granted, my happiness was mixed with guilt. But I was going to run in a competition!

The competition day came. Our school had obviously not taken it very seriously, because we had hardly trained for any of these athletic events, and also: no one told me before we arrived at the stadium that I'd be representing our school in the 50-meter race. I just thought I'd be in the relay team. My dad offered some encouraging words. I saw some kids running up and down the stairs by the stands, and for some reason it seemed like a good idea at the time. It would probably make me super fast if I managed to run up all the stairs.

It didn't. I came in 5th out of 7 in our district. I wondered if Stephanie would have won.

Then it was time for the relay race, and I was to run the last leg. I saw how my classmates ran like the wind, and how by the time the baton was in my hand we had a comfortable lead. All I had to do was run the last 50 meters as fast as I could. And I did, and we won, and I was over the moon with happiness.

That was my short career in athletics. I wanted to continue running, but, as I said, my family wasn't much into sports, and my mom (who worked in a hospital) had many horror stories she'd gladly tell us about people who exercised, whose hearts stopped or got too big. Exerting yourself is bad for your health. That and a minor health scare some years later put a stop to running. I wasn't to return to it until 10 years later, as a grown-up, who could do her own research into how "dangerous" exercise is. But that story is for another time.

Autumn running

If I hadn't missed a week and a half's worth of training, I would be participating in an exciting event today: 8x10 km intervals, arranged by jogg.se. What that means is that one runs 10km every third hour, beginning at 6 in the morning and finishing some time in the early hours on Sunday. I was of course not counting on running all 8 intervals, but I was at least hoping I'd manage 4. Then I got sick.

This morning I felt well enough to head out for a 10km run. I wore my "Training for Stockholm Marathon" t-shirt for the first time. That gave me an extra kick.


It was windy outside, but luckily it didn't rain. I don't mind wind or rain. I do mind when it's windy and raining at the same time. Late autumn is a great time to be running in the woods, so even though I had planned on running an easy, flat route, I changed my mind at the last minute and headed for the lake. Someone had fired up their fireplace nearby and the air smelled of winter. Not a soul was in sight. In fact, it felt a lot like Christmas morning, when everyone is at home with their families enjoying a holiday breakfast and the world feels deserted. I loved the solitude.


My pulse started out a bit higher than it should and I was worried that I'd have to stop running. Thankfully it soon settled on its usual level. I jogged on rain soaked ground, hoping that my socks would stay dry. I drifted into a nice flow, the rhythm of my breathing and of my feet hitting the ground in harmony. 10 kilometres never felt so easy or so much fun. I even toyed with the idea of running another 10km later in the day and participate in the event anyway.


If my Kayanos could speak, they'd have some nasty stories to tell about how I've been treating them. Especially in comparison with my old Sauconys, that look like they've only been used for ballroom dancing. A couple of months ago I went running with some really nice people on a 18-km forest trail. Running is perhaps the wrong word. Wading through mud is a better description. When I came home, my Kayanos were black and I had mud up to my knees. My shoes never recovered from this abuse, even though I washed them. Now they're getting close to joining my Sauconys in retirement.

Running with other people is something I enjoy occasionally. I mostly prefer running shorter distances by myself, but my long runs feel so much easier and fun if I have company. Last summer a group of runners decided to join forces and run together now and then. I have loved every minute I've run with these people and I am really excited about our next adventure: Running from Alingsås to Gothenburg, a distance of around 50 km. I doubt I'll be able to run more than 35 km, but just participating gives me a great buzz.

Now I won't have to change the blog title...

...from "Training for Stockholm Marathon" to "NOT training for Stockholm Marathon". That was a relief. Because, you know, I'd have to re-do the banner and everything.

What a difference a short run can make! I ran home from work in the rain, 6 kilometres at snail pace. I even got to test my new backpack and I was thrilled with it. Did I notice the noise from the endless traffic? No. Did I notice that I could hardly see where I was going, because my glasses were all fogged up from all the rain? No. Did I want to keep running? Yes. But I didn't. Because I didn't want to push my luck. The witch doctor seemed to be right about the painkillers, and maybe she was right about taking it easy with training. I took another painkiller when I got home, just to be on the safe side. If I still feel well tomorrow, well...who knows...I might even go for a 10K run!

I am a runner. It is a part of my identity. Certain titles describe us and form an image in other people's minds. More importantly, they define us and we feel safe in them. Accountant or actor. Mother or father. Middle-aged or teenager. Hippy or square. Tall or short. Conservative or anarchist. Just think how lost we'd be without these descriptions.

To describe oneself as a runner, one has to run. How often or how far is less important. However, an injury or sickness can really shake that description. How can I be a runner if I can't run? That is why being able to run today, even if it was a shorter run, made me so happy. I can still call myself a runner. I am still training for Stockholm Marathon.

Whooosh

That was the sound of two hours of my life disappearing before my eyes. And I'm never getting them back.

I tried to book an appointment with my doctor, so that he could figure out what's wrong with my throat and how we can fix it. Unfortunately he had no time slots that suited me, what with having a full time job. I was advised to visit an emergency health centre.

Several people at work had been to this emergency health centre and spoke highly of it, and how the waiting times were really short. So I headed down there after I finished work at 6.

A few people were already waiting there, but when I spoke to the nurses I was told that there were only 3 patients waiting to be seen by the two doctors on duty. I guessed it would only take about half an hour before I got to see the doctor, and I just about did a cartwheel to celebrate. My optimism soon took a hard blow. People with more acute problems than mine kept stumbling in and moved to the top of the queue. Feverish kids, a lady who could hardly walk, someone with an allergic reaction, everyone and their mother in other words.

Completely knackered after a long day at work, I was on the verge of tears of frustration and regretted ever going there. I mean, my body could probably take care of itself if I gave it time? But my colleagues had frightened me with talk of streptococcus and how I might need to take penicillin.

After two hours I finally got to see the doctor. She seemed to have jumped out of a cartoon. She was a middle aged woman with crazy hair, a probably crazier mind and an unidentifiable accent. She informed me in broken Swedish that I had a virus and all I needed to do was sweat it out. Pop some painkillers and rest. I was to not shower until the virus was gone. I was to skip training until I felt rested. I wanted to scream that I'd done nothing but rest, and it didn't help. I felt disappointed. Did I wait two hours for this?! Streptococcus can be dealt with, a virus...not so much. Her recipe of painkillers and bad hygiene failed to convince me.

Then I took some painkillers before I went to bed, and woke up with a happier throat. I'm still coughing but it doesn't hurt to swallow any more. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my health improvement continues. Maybe the loony doctor was right. Maybe, just maybe I can go for a run soon.

Rest makes me restless

My throat feels like it's filled with pebbles.

It's now 9 days since I last ran. I have tried to keep active by doing strength exercises, climbing and walking, but it's not fulfilling at all. Of course when you're not able to run, everywhere you look there are people running. Even seeing people in their tights and reflex vests running in the snow, in the dark, with a cold headwind, makes me long for it.


Running gives me, among other things, stress relief. I have a stressful job with lots of responsibility. Going out for a run after a hard day at work clears my mind, gives me new ideas, puts everything into perspective. It makes me feel stronger, more able to deal with problems.

This relatively minor health problem has naturally caused me to fall into a negative spiral. The more stress I have at work, the more I need to train. The less I train, the more stressful work gets.

So now I've decided, a week too late, to call the doctor and book an appointment. An infection has most likely made itself at home in my body, and it needs to get out, now. I need to get my training back on track, not only because I'm supposed to be training for a marathon, but, above all, because I need the balance it gives in my life.

Strength

I used to train weights at the gym, and I loved it. I was there 4-5 times per week, even venturing out to the free weights section. I was in good shape, although I never got big. Nowadays I don't see what the appeal was. I never got anywhere with it. The only goal I had was to maintain the little muscle I had built. It got boring.

Running is a whole different matter. There is so much room for improvement, whether one wants to run faster or longer. I want to run longer, but even if I decided to keep to the distances I run today, there would still be enormous variation between my different rounds to keep me interested. I can run different routes, for example. I can choose to run by the sea, in the woods, in the city. Tarmac or trail. Rain or shine. Alone or with others. Short or long distance. And so on and so forth.

As the distance I run increases, however, it becomes more and more important to build up my strength. By building strong legs and core, one can hopefully prevent injuries. It's called pre-hab. The importance of it was never clearer to me than it is now, with my stiff ankle.

This morning, frustrated by the lack of running the last few days, I spontaneously did some strength exercises. Eccentric heel drops, squats (thanks Hans!), balance, the plank, crunches, shoulders. I can't say it was fun. Later today I might try to do some wall climbing, which is also good for strength, and undoubtedly more fun. Tomorrow, who knows...some really easy run commuting from work perhaps?

Training schedule

There are so many training schedules on the Internet that tell you how to prepare for a marathon. They can vary a little bit but they all have some building blocks in common:

• The number of kilometres run every week increases gradually up to some weeks before the race, then it cuts back drastically to allow the body to rest and charge. Most of them don't even require you to run the race distance in training.
  
• There are days every week assigned to different aspects of training, that is: speed work, long run, easy runs, hills and so on.
• They all have suggestions on speed for the various training sessions, depending on what kind of result you wish to achieve in the race.

My plan is not so nuanced. I get a headache just thinking about these schedules. No, my plan is more...eclectic.

I work shifts, and between that and having a life outside work, following a training schedule is impossible. Besides, I don't always feel like whatever is on schedule. Some days (well, ok. Most days) I don't feel like speed work. Some days I feel like running shorter distances, some days longer. If I'm forced to do something, then it feels unnatural and not fun at all.

Some die-hard runners would react to this and talk about how you can't develop as a runner if you don't sweat. It's probably true. However, I run because I think it's fun, not to win at the Olympics. Besides, the 26-minute improvement between my first half-marathon last year and my latest begs to differ. It just takes longer.

So my training plan looks like this:

• 1 long run per week. My usual run is 22-23 km, and I'm hoping to gradually build the distance up until I can comfortably run 30. Then increase some more. Unlike what the training schedules recommend, I'd like to have run the marathon distance at least once before the race. It's not so much for stamina, as it is for psychological reasons.
  
• Run commuting to / from work at least twice a week. These would be my easy runs, but I've used them for speed work once or twice in the past.
  
• Run in the woods at least once a week. Built-in hill work.
  

All in all I'm starting at about 50 km per week. I'm planning on having fun training for this marathon. Through the cold winter rain, through icy pavements, through darkness, I am going to have fun.

Obligatory and much hated rest - day 4

I'm sick of being sick. The fever is gone, but now I'm plagued by a persistent cough instead. I can't do anything fun without my pulse sky rocketing. Just thinking about fun things makes my pulse sky rocket.

Fully realising that recovery could take much longer than I thought, I decided to take a look back instead on what my year has looked like so far. Take satisfaction from past achievements, so to speak.

In 2010 I've run a grand total of 1218 km. The longest I've run is just over 30 km. The longest I've run without taking a pause is 26 km. My fastest time in training or race is 5:03 min/km. That was a one-off though. I'm usually much slower. This year I've run one 10 km race (that was only 9 km in reality, due to a grave mistake in measuring) and two half-marathon races. Not surprisingly, I won none of those races. I got some pretty medals though.

Next year's big goal is of course Stockholm Marathon. Participating in races is not my cup of tea; in fact I think they're mostly just crowded and stressful. Why do I then choose to enter a marathon? I suppose it's for the medal. When I'm old and grey and lying in a retirement home somewhere, I'll be showing my nurses that I once was able to do such a thing.

Why is it...

...that when you can't go out for a run, that's when you miss it the most?

The past few weeks I've had an enormous workload and I've often daydreamed about what my life would be like if I had different working conditions. For example, if I worked from home, or if I worked part time. If I had more time to train, and could do it whenever I felt like it, in other words.

Now I find myself with lots of time in my hands, but I'm ill and can't go running, or do any of the other things I daydreamed about. Baking: out of the question. Reading: The fever makes me fall asleep. Even catching up on all the films I've been meaning to watch -a passive, harmless activity- feels boring, when done in a fever-fuelled stupor. I get restless. The sofa starts feeling uncomfortable. My legs start twitching. I can't concentrate. But even if I just try to go and get some water, I realise just how sick I am.

There is clearly a discrepancy between my mind and my body. My body is ill. My mind on the other hand is (arguably) healthy and ready to go. Or extremely delusional and in denial. Either way, it doesn't seem to have gotten the message my body has been trying to send: Take it easy.

Sick

I felt it when I went running Monday evening, this feeling of dryness in the throat that often precedes a cold. I didn't pay so much attention, as it can also be a symptom of the cold autumn air.

When the chills started yesterday, however, and I could hardly cycle home from work, I knew that something was wrong. As soon as I came home, I collapsed on the sofa with a blanket, but nothing seemed to help. I was freezing. The thermometer showed a 38,7 degree fever, that later developed to a spectacular 39,2. I haven't had such high fever since I was a child. My throat hurt so much that I could hardly swallow.

So today I'm off from work. I have a ton of films to watch, which is the only upside to being sick. I'm trying not to think about all the training I'm missing. Instead I try to think about all the rest my poor ankle and foot will get, which they undeniably need. I'm not very good at listening to my body when it says that it needs rest, so it takes getting sick to take a break from running. Hopefully I'll bounce back without problems when I feel better.

Run commuting

My work place is not far from where I live. If I choose the shortest way there, it's only 4 km. Sometimes I run home from work, taking a detour to make my run 10 km. It's ok, if somewhat lacking in variation.

Last week I finished work early and decided to run further than usual. I had some chores to run (pun not intended!), so at the end of my extended route I ran to the optician to book an appointment and then to the store to buy some stuff we needed. Then I ran home. All in all I ran 14 km. This utilitarian running gave me satisfaction in a different way than ordinary running. I felt that I was making great use of time that would otherwise be "lost", that is by walking or driving to the store, or cycling from work. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Yesterday I received a note in the post informing me that a package had arrived for me. I knew that it was my new running backpack and socks that I had ordered. So I went for a run, first in the forest (which was dark and deserted by that time) and then on my way home past the post office to pick up the package. Again, the satisfaction of using this "dead" time to get exercise felt amazing.

Running has not always been a thing that people do to get in shape, or because they think it's fun. It used to be a means of survival, in order to hunt prey. Maybe by using running in a utilitarian way we "remember" that our bodies are made to run, hence the satisfaction derived from such activities.

Training for Stockholm Marathon 2011

It does what it says on the box: a blog about training for Stockholm marathon in May 2011.

I love running. I've been running regularly for 6 months now, and before that on and off for several years. It would have been a year of regular running if not for last winter, which was a hard one. Lots of snow and ice. Long commute to work, which made it difficult to find time for training. But now I'm back, and after completing 2 half-marathons this year, I entered Stockholm Marathon, my first. My primary goal is just to complete it. My somewhat-crazy-though-maybe-not goal is to do it in around 4 hours. My latest half-marathon was completed in 1 hour 50 minutes, so it's not completely out of the question - though I fear a repetition of last year's winter.

Maybe it's strange to start a training blog about running on a rest day! Even stranger then to start it when several body parts ache, among others my left ankle and the bottom of my right foot.

My ankle has been bothering me for months. It started higher up on the calf, and after the calf got stronger it seemed to move south and settle there. It's not exactly an ache: it only hurts when I touch it, otherwise it just feels...stiff. Especially in the morning. I've been trying to do my eccentric foot exercises to prevent this. I think it has gotten a bit better.

My foot started complaining yesterday, when I went on a long run. It felt more like a cramp and less like pain, like my shoes were forcing my foot in an unnatural position. Today it still feels kind of like a cramp.

A couple of years ago I got the infamous runner's knee. That made me miss more than 6 months of training. Since then I've been worried that I'll get injured again. Running is such an important part of my everyday life that I can't seem to focus on the big picture (that is: if I get injured, I'll rest and it will get better and then I'll start running again). No, I only think about how much I'd be missing today. Hopefully these minor aches won't develop into something more serious, and that I can continue my training for my life's first marathon.