A Sweaty 7-11 Reflection

As I stood, sweating profusely over the 7-11 counter, buying coffee this morning on my way back from my 4.5-miler, I reflected on this past week. I continued to move toward the Anti-Goal of training just to finish the AFC Half Marathon on August 16, while in the final rehab stages of post-plantar-fasciitis-slow-as-sludge-but-I'm-okay-with-it. Stretching calves like a madwoman, I have now taken to icing the bottom of my foot, just for good measure, after runs over 4.0 miles. This extra measure seems to be helping quite a bit to alleviate any ankle stiffness, a rare but unwelcome visitor of mine after picking up the speed during my runs.

The time has come where I am starting to re-evaluate my choice of running shoe. I've worn Asics Gels for as long as I can remember, maybe even longer. Each year I buy a few pair of whatever the latest and greatest model is, and it's always just worked. I have never really done the orthotics thing, what with my hippie, barefoot running mentality. It has occurred to me that my super high arched, narrow feet are probably not meant to take so much abuse.

So, on this coming weekend's agenda is a visit to my favorite guys over at Movin' Shoes, where I will run around the parking lot 80 million times in the hopes of finding the new shoes. If all hope is lost on finding the next stage of shoe, I will consider orthotics and those nighttime foot stretching things.

In the coming week of the Anti-Goal, I will remember that there is always hope, but you may have to ask for a refil from time to time. There is always a way, but it might not be yours. There is always a clear trail somewhere, but you may have to do a lot of brush whacking to find it.

Bottom line: you just have to keep moving on whatever feet you were born with.

The Anti-Goal

Setting a goal to be predictable seems more like an anti-goal. Saying that your goal is just to finish, when you know you will finish, is not really a goal.

With four weeks until the AFC half marathon, I am plugging away at an 11:20 minute mile average for my long runs with a little bit of hesitation about the foot, but a pretty strong overall feeling. I stretch my calves and feet at random times throughout the day, but last week I finally got back up to 20 miles (that’s 20 miles total), and it seemed to get a little twinge of having reached the limit. I feel a little disappointed right now because this whole rehab is going even slower than I thought it would. However, endurance and strength-wise, I feel like I could easily run a half marathon today. So, it's a little bittersweet. Could be better, could be worse.

In times like this, times of the anti-goal, to a person who literally feels claustrophobic without a goal, it becomes important to stay focused and INSPIRED. Sometimes a person's greatest inspiration can come from something as simple as a memory.

This week, I came upon this guy's blog who is prepping for the Marathon des Sables, and he just seemed like such a balanced and matter-of-fact sort of individual (way unlike Pam Reed, who's book I recently finished). When I was in India, on my way to the Great Tibetan Plateau half marathon a couple of years ago, I ran into this very average looking German woman with a beer belly who had also run the race across the Sahara a couple of times, and I remember that she too, gave off such a peaceful, humble, and confident vibe. She showed me this binder of articles that she kept with her at all times, and told me that they were just random clippings of things that inspired her, in addition to her children.

So, as I prepare to do my wall sits, plank push ups, and pool running this week, I am focused on a little humility, a smidgen of confidence, and a lot of slow miles. Perhaps my anti-goal of just finishing without injury is good practice for anti-goals of the future, such as running across the Sahara or the plains of Antarctica.

The Little Brother Who Could

Several years ago, before Brother #1 was married to the Curly Blonde and they were still dating from afar (she lived in San Diego and he lived in Seattle), he and I stood on the rocks at Imperial Beach in the early morning, coffee in hand, waiting for the 8.2-mile Low Tide Ride and Stride to get underway, while we watched the Curly Blonde prepare for what was one of the first of her many future races.

I am guessing I was probably nursing some injury or another as a result of being a stubborn idiot and overtraining too soon after the accident because I honestly can't remember why I wasn't running it.

As we stood there on that muggy June morning, he turned to me and asked, "Do you think I could ever do something like this?" I remember my heart skipping a beat at that moment and trying my hardest not to show excitement because I knew right then that this guy was going to one day be a great athlete and a powerful teammate. Brother #1 is one of those people who does exactly what he decides to do and will relentlessly pursue a goal to the bitter end, even if it knocks him down a few times in the process of getting there.

So, with the help of his wife and with the willpower of a slightly temperamental mountain goat (it's a family trait), he has shed 40 lbs, created the ultimate spreadsheet, and speed-worked his way to a kickass state of training and racing.

Since he was the lone Low Tide Ride and Stride team member this year, he let me conduct the world's best ever LTRS interview:

Q: Who or what inspired you to run the Low Tide Ride and Stride?
A: Any one who has ever run the LTRS knows why we run it.

Q: Do you currently have a Low Tide Ride and Stride hero or heroine?
A: Hell yes. Jeremy Gintoft, the 2005 Record holder 45:46 (run)

Q: When you hear the words Low Tide Ride and Stride in the off-season, what do you think of?
A: Only how it is the best race ever....my heart races.

Q: For this race, what crossed your mind as you took your first few steps?
A: I became one with the Silver Strand....The sand and seaweed were my race track.

Q: Describe your pre-race nutrition.
A: Half of a banana, 24oz of cold coffee, black, and one glass of water. I should have substituted water for the coffee.

Q: How well-staffed was the LTRS?
A: Very. Kathy Loper would never allow anything less.

Q: Did you meet your personal goal for this race?
A: No, I failed (1:08). 45:46 is just too unrealistic for me. I will never be like Jeremy!

Q: If you could describe this years LTRS as a beer, what would it be?
A: Victoria Bitter. Unavailable in the USA

Q: How important is it to be really, really, really good looking during the LTRS?
A: This is a no brainier...really, really, really important.

Coronado Independence Day 15K

This 4th of July, I ran the slowest 15K of my life (11:19 mile) and had a blast doing so. The foot feels wonderful!

I am grateful that I live in America and can get up every morning, put on my running shoes, and run to my heart's content, by myself, as a woman, and feel safe doing so. I have been extremely blessed in this life to have always lived in a place where this is possible. Of course, having street smarts is always necessary; I carry mace with me, most of the time; I tell someone where I am going, and I always make sure to look every person in the eye as I pass them, depending on the place and time of day.

All of that would be awfully hard to do in a burqa.

The Heat

We decided to forgo the Low Tide Ride and Stride this year in order to get an extra day of socializing in on our extra-long weekend trip to Arizona. Brother #1 was on his own for the 3rd annual LTRS tradition.

It was 110° F this weekend in Mesa, Arizona. What better time to drive from San Diego, across the Sonoran Desert, over for an outdoor wedding and get some short training runs with the Curly Blonde, than the middle of summer? The drive was beautiful and the rest stops stocked with soap. Saguaro Cacti (Carnegiea gigantea) displayed their large red blooms, and the car was stocked with coffee-flavored rice crispy treats, courtesy of Brother #1.

When we left San Diego on Saturday, the weather was around 70° F, and when we pulled in to Mesa just in time for dinner Saturday evening, the thermometer read 109° F. If you are unsure of what that feels like, imagine the heat of when you open your oven to check on the pizza. Running in the oven, even on an overcast morning, is an unforgettable challenge. For some reason, my legs always feel instantly like they have giant weights attached. Breathing in the heat is just fine, the lungs actually open up and genuinely enjoy the feeling. But what happens to the muscles, and why do they rebel before the half-mile mark at this level of heat?

I just started reading The Extra Mile, by Pam Reed. She is an ultramarathoner who, for one reason or another, found that she was a natural badass when it came to extreme heat running, especially if it just so happened to be the Badwater Ultramarathon.



Veghte and Webb have studied the effects of pre-cooling prior to extreme heat exposure, but the fact that they use the word "rectal temperature" freaks me out a little, so in all honestly, I will probably just go on drinking my vinegar-molasses-salt concoctions and continue to seek out the simple answers to these questions.

Back in cool and Stay Classy San Diego now, where the weather is perfect, the neighbors are friendly, and the news reporters can't seem to read their teleprompters to save their lives.