Runnin' on (Too Much) Empty

So, apparently I have a little problem with running.

First off - I am happy to report that I took six minutes off of my half-marathon time. Somewhere on my #dirtythirtylist that I started (and never finished, because I realized it was rather unrealistic to imagine that I would somehow learn lion taming and Mandarin Chinese between now and May 31) I wrote "run a half marathon in under 2 hours." I can scratch that off the list. I came in at 1:56, which is entirely awesome. Go me.

The problem - I celebrated my victory with another round of public vomiting. Not so awesome.

I know that gastrointestinal problems plague runners. And I keep experimenting with different means of trying to combat the issue. Eat less, eat further in advance, drink more water before and after, drink Gatorade, wait longer after running before eating anything. This time I waited too long and nearly passed out in a Wendy's on New York Avenue in DC.

Which is an interesting story in itself:

We were standing in line at the Wendy's on Saturday afternoon, a good four hours after we'd crossed the finish line. Somehow in that time, I had managed to only eat half a banana and some dried fruit. I just wasn't hungry after the race, and rather than force myself to eat, I chose instead to drink water and Gatorade. Stupid. (I also blame the incredibly packed Metro bringing scads of runners from the Armory back into the city, I blame Switchfoot for playing some awesome cover songs in the beer garden at the post-race celebration, and I blame Catalano for creepily finding me in a crowd of 30,000 and hanging out with us after the race. Side note: at any event of considerable size, Catalano has a very lucky and/or creepy habit of somehow finding me. She says it's due to the height of The Gentleman, because not many in a large crowd are 6'4", and he is usually to be found following me around. But it's downright freaky. I turn around - and THERE SHE IS. It's like she planted a homing device on me at some point. I wouldn't doubt this. I blame Vegas. I digress.)

If you've ever passed out from low blood sugar, you know how it feels: you suddenly get really, really hot. Your legs become rubber. The tunnel vision sets in, and you feel yourself start to sway. Every part of you is covered with a slick of sweat, and then you feel the floor begin to move uncomfortably close to the rest of you. I don't really remember everything that happened except that I ducked out of line at the Wendy's right after I informed The Gentleman I wanted a #1 with cheese and a DIET COKE (for health) and collapsed into a chair with my arms sprawled across a sticky table. And then the uncontrollable heaving began, and the next thing I knew, I was draped over a trash can next to the ketchup station, wretching nothing but Gatorade and banana bits.

You're welcome for that.

The interesting part - no one batted an eye. 

The Gentleman was desperately trying to get me something to eat and drink (he is not so great with the puking, but he is certainly a man of action when it comes to emergencies - when I got sick in the Middle East he went on a pilgrimage for Pepto on Christmas morning, and when I puked at the Baltimore half marathon he went out to hunt and gather as much Gatorade and water as he could find). I lay there, draped over the can, and dry heaving absolutely nothing. After what seemed like an eternity, an off-duty nurse who was enjoying lunch with her boyfriend came over to me and tore open a salt packet, shook some into my hand and instructed me to put it on my tongue. She gave me a cup of ice water and told me to drink as much as I could. By that time, The Gentleman had our food and a small Frosty for me. 

That Frosty was the best fricking thing I have ever tasted. I was exhausted, still sort of dry heaving, and still on the verge of passing out. The freezing ice creamy deliciousness was impossible to swallow at first, but after a minute or so of sitting there and sipping it, I became absolutely ravenous. I immediately housed a cheeseburger and an order of fries and promptly felt like a million bucks. 

Half an hour later, I was doubled over with cramps and I spent the next three hours in bed wondering if this was what it felt like to die.

Miraculously - by 7pm that night, I was completely healed. I scarfed a plate of nachos, some sweet potato fries, and the better part of a pizza that night. You know, because after months of training and eating right the best way to celebrate an athletic accomplishment is to stuff your face.

And, lest ye judge, I'll just go ahead and tell you that I spent the entire next day on the couch with The Gentleman eating Easter cookies and Pirate's Booty, drinking mimosas, and watching horror movies. It was pretty much the best day ever.

So, I've consulted a nurse/runner friend of mine who sent me some incredibly helpful advice about eating/training. I am going to attempt to either isolate the problem or figure out a way around it, whether that means eliminating foods from my diet pre-race, working out an eating plan ahead of time post-race, or something crazy I haven't even thought of yet.

I think a big problem is the post-race high. The adrenaline rush and the incredible feeling of accomplishment that floods through you when you cross the finish line sort of puts you in a stupor, and you forget about your immediate bodily needs. Blisters might bleed, your knee might be swollen, your head pounding, but you don't feel any of it with that amount of seratonin (or something) coursing through your veins. And, for me, it translates into not feeling hunger or the onset of cramping, and it's not until I am on the verge of passing out that I do something about it, which is too late.

Long story short - I am new to this game. My body is still getting used to the incredible things I am forcing it to do. To put all of this in perspective - two and a half years ago, I had a broken foot. The cast came off, and I probably couldn't have run a mile. And now? I know I can peel another five minutes off of my half-marathon time, and my dream is to do so without puking in a fast food establishment. Or anywhere, really.

But seriously- go me. And go Catalano, and Catalano's husband, and The Gentleman. We all ran hard, worked hard, and played hard afterwards. And some of us (me) puked afterwards. We are awesome.

Maybe next time, no puking. Live the dream!

Do Yo Thang

Another half-marathon training session is nearly done.

Since January 1...I mean, January 2...I mean...well, sometime around the beginning of January after I got over the epic sinus infection, we started up training again. This time for the DC Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon  coming up on March 17. Switchfoot is headlining. I'm not a huge Switchfoot fan. I just like live music.

This eleven-week training course was a little different than last time. First off, because training in winter is far different than training in summer. We were lucky this year and blessed with a freak El Nina (El Nino? Global Warming? 2012 Mayan-Calendar End?) stream that kept temperatures well above freezing most of the time. I think I wore my Arctic Under Armour compression shirt that I got for Christmas (thanks, family!) less than a handful of times. Don't worry - I'm sure next year we'll be back to regularly-scheduled frigidness and it will get much more use. 

Secondly, and this was a shocking moment for me, I realized that my body is now used to 8+ mile runs. Even 10+ miles. While I slacked off a bit in the intensity training for short runs, I still got the scheduled long runs in and, for the most part, was surprised to find that muscle memory is a very real thing. I felt like I did far less this time around then last time, but I'm still getting in the long runs without too much fatigue. It makes me think that I might finally be ready for the dedication of training for a full marathon. Because, after you've run 13.1 miles, what's 13.1 more? Ask me again after the race, and we'll see. Especially if I puke again. No toenails lost this time so far, however, which sort of makes me feel like a slacker, to be honest. But then I think about where I was a couple of years ago when thirty minutes on an elliptical a few times a week constituted a "workout routine." How very far we have come.

The basics:

Eatin'

An important thing I've learned in training for a half marathon is that you don't really need to do anything too drastically different in terms of eating. A common mistake is to think that you need to "carbo-load" or take in more calories. Mistake.

I'm hungry all the time, but I'm hungry all the time anyway. The difference now is that if I don't eat regularly, I get dizzy and irritable and am subsequently likely to eat too much because I feel famished. I eat every couple of hours. Small meals. And you really don't need to consume too many more calories in training than normal. You just need to eat, and often. Breaking up three meals a day into six smaller ones worked well for me. As for carbs, everything in moderation: I find that I do much better, energy-wise, if I stick to primarily lean proteins and fiber and try to keep the carbs to a moderate amount. This doesn't mean I eschew carbs, just that I don't eat extra. I do tend to eat more protein, because it keeps you fuller longer, and because women tend to not get enough protein as it is. 

Things I consume regularly: tuna (canned and ahi), salads with oil + vinegar, turkey burgers in whole wheat pitas, brown rice, chicken, lots and lots and lots of eggs (yolks included - but I try to do 1 yolk for every 2 eggs), Kind bars (possibly my favorite post-run treat), Muscle Milk light (the 100-calorie chocolate kind), spinach, tomatoes, hummus, carrots, oatmeal, white fish, blueberries, Wasa crackers, black beans, Vitamin Water Zero, Power Bar energy gel chews, Gu, garbanzo beans, and dark chocolate whenever I can get my hands on it. The last one because it's awesome. I also like to combine food groups whenever possible - fiber with protein, carbs with protein, etc. And sushi is and forever shall be a wonder food to me.

Sleepin'

My sleep. I am no longer of any use to anyone after 10pm. But I wake up around 6:15 like clockwork every morning. This habit is disruptive only on weekends, when I want to be a functioning human being past midnight and sleep past 9am the next morning. All of these healthy habits are wreaking havoc on my party life. Bummer.

Energizin'

As long as I'm eating and sleeping the way my body wants me to, I've got energy to spare. Unfortunately, my schedule rarely allows me to eat and sleep the way I'd like to, so I do feel like I get tired out more easily. But those days when I magically hit the hay early after a full day of healthy eating - there is nothing in this world that feels better. During training last time, I cut my caffeine intake by half. I'm no longer on that bandwagon, but I am much more conscious of it and try to limit it to before 2pm. And no more lattes or large coffees. Smalls or mediums only, and medium has to have at least a few fingers of decaf in it.

Overcomin'

When I feel overwhelmed, when I feel small, when I feel like my problems are insurmountable, it's a pretty freaking amazing thing to say to yourself: remember when you thought running a mile was an accomplishment? Now you regularly run more than five, and sometimes even more than ten. Your body can handle 13 miles. It just takes time, dedication, and passion. Don't forget the passion part: if running just ain't your thang, it ain't your thang. Personally, I can't think of anything worse than swimming long distances. I have no desire to do it, and the few times I've tried it has not felt good. It just ain't my thang. You gotta find your thang. Because when it hurts, when you're tired, when you're running out of steam, you're gonna need that drive. 

Now, excuse me while I do and do my thang....

Take Your Mark

Soooooooooooooooooooo.

The last couple weeks of life have been chaotic (but, really, when is life ever not chaotic?), hence the lack of posting. I feel as though I came back from vacation, packed up my life, and moved in the span of about two and a half weeks. Oh wait...that's exactly what happened.

Life is again a flurry of boxes and bubble wrap, only this time it's a more settled feeling. My new house is beautiful, the neighborhood is divine, and things are slowly but surely beginning to develop new patterns and routines. A week into the new house, and I can make my way from my room to the bathroom downstairs at night without the lights on. I call this progress.

Oh, and tomorrow I'm gonna run a half marathon. You know, no big deal.

Actually, wait; it is a big deal. I've been training for this thing for eleven weeks. And while I haven't had time to update the mileage to the right of this page, I know that I've put 175 miles on these feet since August in preparation for this.

Icing on the cake - my dad, my boyfriend, and Catalano are all running too. My lone hobby became a project for my boyfriend and me, and I will say that training with a partner was much, much easier than training alone. We did all of our long runs together, starting at 8 and working up to 12.5. We had difficult runs where we could barely pick our feet up off the ground, and runs where we finished before we realized. I have to say, I probably got the better end of the deal - training with someone who was a college athlete was a huge asset. I learned what to eat, how to stretch, when to rest, when to push. The best part: I had someone to rub my shins and shoulders and work the knots out of my calves.

What?! I cooked him dinner on many occasions!

So this half marathon will be a family-and-friend affair, and I couldn't be more excited. And a little nervous. I've been working towards this for the last few months, but also I feel as though I've been mentally prepping for this for the past year. Last year when I ran the relay, I knew this was something I wanted to do. The greatest physical challenge I've taken on thus far.

And one of those bucket list things: run a half marathon before you're thirty.

Shoot. I should probably make a list of all those things I was supposed to do before thirty. Because that's in like...7.5 months. Damn. I need to get busy figuring out world peace, writing a best-seller, and penning a Billboard top single.

But first...I think I'll unpack some more boxes. And run 13.1 miles.

New Record

Ran ten miles this morning before work.

You know; no big deal.

After an excruciating and embarassingly bad week of training last week (we're talking crawling uphill on a mediocre 6 mile run in a manner that left my spirit broken and soul empty) this is actually a very big deal. Not only that, but it's my longest distance to date. Not only that, but it marks nearly the halfway point in the training program, and is almost at the apex. Once we get a 12 miler in at the end of September, it's downhill from there with two easy weeks before the race.

Miles to date in training: 78.5.
Coconut waters consumed: small, tropical isle's worth.
Days until I am lying on the beach in Key West: 9.