Breaking up is Hard to do

It is important to recognize when enough is enough. Like an abusive relationship, you need to be able to look at what you have set up for yourself and critically analyze if it is doing you good or doing you harm. 

My last long run required too much of my body and I realized as I laid on the floor groaning, that I am simply too beat down. After having taken a few days off running, I had thought I would bounce back stronger than ever, but instead ended up with severe cramping. The mental strain of this set back was crushing and maybe tougher even than the physical pain. Almost...my legs freakin killed me!

I have decided that I need to be realistic about my expectations. I have never done any kind of speed work before, I always ran the miles required by a training plan. The run-the-miles idea is great for the 'I just want to finish' kind of race, but I actually want to shave several minutes off my pace (I know who do I think I am, an Olympic athlete?), which requires intense horrific beat down workouts.  I bit off more than I could chew.

The Marathon in the fall has been rolled over to next year and I am currently looking for one in January some time. This will give me time to start over. It was not an easy decision to make, but a necessary one.

So now, Dr Jack, as I take on round 2 with your training plan, I am bringing everything I've got and going to kick some serious butt! She says as she reaches for her liquid courage.

*This blog was brought to you today by 3 glasses of Vivác Syrah.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

The Rising Sun

At 5:30am the air is crisp and cool. The sound of my feet hitting the pavement echos off the cascading rock walls along the road. The sky is filled with violet colored thick clouds and the giant old cottonwood trees of town sleepily reach toward them. Soon, as the sun stretches it's arms over the cover of clouds, a fuchsia streak snakes its way across the sky. It is exquisite.

If only the running itself was so exquisite.

I was absolutely naughty this past week and didn't run...at all. I meant to, but each morning when that hideous alarm went off and my bed felt just right, I groaned and put the pillow over my head. It was the white flag of signs to my husband who mercifully allowed me to go back to sleep. And so the week slipped by! Now, as a new week started, it was clear that we needed to get back at it. I even optimistically thought my legs may be really strong after the mini vacation, but guess what? They were not. Because I'm in training...and training is a type of Hell.

9 miles of knee pain and a ridiculous effort to hit a deathly slow pace, I came scretching into the house. I tried to ease the pain by drinking water, but finally picked up my cell phone and texted 3 words to my mom... "I hate running".

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

The Yo-yo of Running

Well people, I'd like to say I have some words of wisdom this week or insight, but I don't. I continue to be an ass. I am training in a haphazard manner where I take off from running crucial runs to go white water rafting, I stick in weight workouts and then am too sore to complete the miles outlined by Dr. Jack, the professional running coach I only half listen to. This is definitely not proper training.

In addition, I seem to be a yo-yo of highs and lows. Heading out on a long run this past week, I started feeling great and even after 7 miles was confidant and strong...then leg cramping set in and I could hardly limp in the last of the 12 mile run. Serves me right, I was getting a little cocky and actually had congratulated myself at the beginning of the run for being able to run 12 miles like it was nothing. HA!

As I continue to tumble in this sea of pain, my brother-in-law, Chris, managed to pull off a high altitude Marathon this past weekend. I have mentioned before Chris' seemingly effortless ability with running, but it never ceases to amaze me. He trained, but his training doesn't look like mine. He seems to be able to go from a running break to Marathon shape in a few weeks and then run fast and finish his 6th Marathon happy and feeling great! It doesn't seem fair. Why is it so easy for him and so hard for me?

My hubby lovingly answered this question "it isn't 'easy' for anyone, but no one complains about it as much as you do."

Thanks babe, now pass the wine.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Follow La Luz

"I read your blog" his voice reverberated through the phone, deep and sultry. My Husband has one of those rich deep voices that sounds like melted dark chocolate sprinkled with sea salt...a touch gravely.

So he read the last blog...hmmm...how bad did I make him sound in that one?

"What did you think?" I asked, always hopeful that he liked it and a bit fearful of his brutal honesty.

"I laughed a lot! Very funny. What did you call me? oh ya, The Liar, ya it was really funny."

Thank God! The thing is, as much as I like to play up the cruelty of the training and pin it on him, since he is my coach, I adore my hubby. He is charming and funny and hello, he is a wine maker! Oh and he takes my abuse as I train.

"So what is the plan for tomorrow?" His attention already past the blog, my complaining and my dark depiction of him. "Where are you going to do your long run?" ever the coach.

I've been in Albuquerque for a week while our son goes to a summer camp. For those unfamiliar, Albuquerque is a large city located in the middle of New Mexico and is hideously hot in the summer...think Hell only hotter. Albuquerque does have its perks though. The city has all kinds of running trails and bike paths, one of which I tried out just a few days ago.

The run had been recommended and portrayed as "beautiful", silly me I pictured the lush green bike path of Eugene, Oregon or the tree lined one in Boulder, Colorado, but this is Albuquerque...this one was along a glorified culvert. Not pretty. I did glimpse a pretty section down in the trees a few yards from the path, but running alone and having already been propositioned by 3 homeless men, I was not eager to be alone in the 'rape me' territory. Maybe I went the wrong direction on the path? Anyway, I was not looking forward to another long run there.

I asked my coach for ideas and after a short Q & A about the week's training workouts, he said "I think you need to do 'La Luz', it will be a fast walk/ hike up and a slow jog down and probably just what you need to have a little metal, emotional and physical reprieve yet get a great workout." his voice was like melted butter sliding down my spine with a tingle and the cherry on top of the awesome idea of a 'break run'. This was JUST what I needed!

'La Luz' is a trail in the mountains of Albuquerque that takes you up to the top of the Tram, a must do if you are visiting...uhhh the Tram is a must do, the hike there is optional. The trail is also an infamous run due to its steep incline. But I was given the gift of walking it...my coach is awesome.

The next day at 8AM and 80 degrees, I excitedly started up the trail, happy to see other hikers (I secretly feared being attacked by a mountain lion or bit by a snake on this trail, but seeing so many people here I was sure would scare most of the animals away). The steep incline was no joke, but I felt good! I actually was able to run most of the way, well except for the parts that require you to literally climb over boulders and navigate exposed tree roots, but otherwise I was totally killing it! The decent was tricky and indeed a slow jog, but I reached the car feeling positively happy! WHAT? Me happy after running for 2 hours? Ya, it was totally crazy.

Turns out all this insane training might actually be working! Somehow I did more than I needed to and was feeling strong. Somehow I had transformed from the broken person of just a few days ago.

...and then I woke up the following day unable to get out of bed. Help! Someone hand me the phone, I need to call The Liar...I mean my coach.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Lie To Me

The word that keeps coming to mind is 'broken'. I have gone from a point where I felt strong and capable in my running to a sudden and constant state of being... 'broken'. 

Jesse, my loving husband and cruel coach, promises me this IS the point of the Jack Daniels training. I think it is important that I point out what a lier I think Jesse is. I also hate Jack Daniels (a.k.a "Jackass", my nickname for the Doctor and professional running coach). Jesse started lying some time ago, a sprinkling here and there, but now it is all the time and it is very confusing...especially when you are 'broken'. He started with things like "you are doing great!" or "nice job today!", but on a recent "easy run" I realized it is pathological.

The alarm sounded at 5:15am. I had just fallen asleep after spending the entire night freaking out about having to get up and run so early. Ya, really awesome that I could keep myself awake panicked about this. I am not a morning person. As an irritable waker upper, waking up to take my 'broken' body out for a run sounded terrible, doing it at 5am was enough to put me in the grave. I decided we should run with our ipods, a first, but like I said, this was desperate and I couldn't even try to speak I was so distraught. 

Mornings in Dixon, our idyllic community, are truly amazing. The sun sparkled through the chartreuse green tree leaves and glinted off the tractors that rumbled awake. It was beautiful. Not that I said so when my chipper hubby joyously proclaimed it. I think he got a grunt as acknowledgment that he had said something. 

I'll spare you all the details of the run, but it was NOT an "easy run" and I felt that my coach was a truly mean SOB. But I did manage to tell him that Dixon was the most beautiful place on earth first thing in the morning. See, I'm a good sport sometimes.

I would have written about that run sooner, but being 'broken' means this blog comes harder and slower, I keep stalling hoping the next run I will have something clever or witty to say or maybe I'll be inspired and can share something great. Then the liar tells me we will "just do a simple run" that means no Dr. Jackass add ons, just running the miles. This sounds like a vacation and lures me out on a long run.

Almost to the top of the hideous steep road to the neighboring town of Penasco, I started to dwell on my husband's lying. I swear he said the mile finished "just around the corner", yet I was still huffing up a grueling incline well past several "corners". I realized he always said things like that or "just a little further" or "it'll be easy" all lies. Finally at the top we turned around and looked down at the steep decent back home. I suddenly had the heart thudding realization that this sicko was going to make me run fast down this hill from Hell. You could see by the gleam in his eye and the way he started to tell me about strategies for running down hill well that I was doomed. I stood there 'broken' wishing for an escape.

*I do have to add in that my husband is actually an incredible coach. I only tell you are the horrible stuff, but he is supportive and encouraging and puts a great deal of time and energy into figuring out what will get you to the next level...a level YOU have picked and asked for help to get to so it is important that I say that I asked for this. 

Apparently there was no escape and my coach waited for me to catch my breath and stop my panic attack. He then looked me in the eye and lied some more. "You got this", "This will be fun", "Just do what you can".

A heart attack and a half later, I find myself hurtling down this hill at a breakneck pace trying to best my fastest minute mile...EVER. The beeping of Jesse's watch announcing the finish of that mile was like tasting the liquid gold of a great Sauternes wine (sorry, I actually don't know any experiences to use as an example of pure pleasure other than wine...well I could think of another, but I'm trying to keep this under an R rating). I folded forward 'broken' from pain. My head thumped, my stomach twisted, my lungs heaved and my legs...oh man, my legs seared with deep bone crushing pain. I looked up into the happy eyes of my coach who announced my winning time and wondered, if I asked him to, would he go get the car? He must have read my mind because he took that moment to say "oh, it isn't that bad". Liar!

After the miracle mile, I was done for. Imagine a favorite shirt that has been worn past feather softness, worn past a hole or two, worn to the point that the stitching is letting go at the seams. That was me. I tried to jog at a reasonable pace as coach cheered "you're kicking ass!", but my stomach was in sever knots and I literally had giant buzzards flocking over head. The heat beat down on the pavement and the liar announced "you'll be fine". You would never know this was the down hill portion of the run from the pain and effort it took to propel my wretch of a body forward. Finally, I had nothing left. Nothing. 

I walked the last mile home, a mentally crippling event, and collapsed on the floor. Every part of my body ached. Jesse proudly told me "honey you did great!". I turned my 'broken' soul toward him and said "I quit".

Turns out I'm a liar too. I have quit a handful of times now and I keep finding myself out on another run. Maybe you need to be a liar to push yourself to do something that scares you, maybe you need someone to lie to you so that you continue to have hope. Maybe the lies are all I have left.

-Cheers from the Vivac Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Seeing God

It has taken me over a week to write a new blog post. The 'Gas Line' run tore me down to my core and while I managed to choke back the tears that day, my emotional fragility lasted for 3 days. For 3 days after that run I couldn't talk about the run. Hot tears would stream down my cheeks and I would manage to say "it was hard". On day 3, I saw God on a treadmill in an Albuquerque hotel.

I don't know how to explain what it feels like to break your body down to the point that you have only the base elements of who you are left...what you are really made of. What ARE you capable of? You don't really know until you are there, truly broken and pushing.

Running painfully slow on the treadmill in an Albuquerque hotel, starring at a blank wall, willing myself to keep my feet moving, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of awe. The wonder of my undeniable commitment to push myself and it sounds silly, but it was a glimmer of God (or whatever name you want to use). I suddenly realized on a whole new level the infinite beauty of the human body and what we are capable of. I thought of the intense wonder of the universe and the devastatingly gorgeous photos of a birth of a star that my 7 year old son loves. My son will look at these images and say "you know we all are made of star dust" and while this is scientifically true it is also a poetically beautiful statement that makes us all very interconnected. As my pain stricken legs continued to push forward on the treadmill my sense of awe warmed into a sense of deep love for everything in my life. I thought about looking into my child's eyes and the amazing person he is and that he came from me, I made this person, this person that has his own unique intense gifts. I know this sounds totally and completely crazy and lets face it, it feels that way too, but I am currently in a process that is unlike anything else I have ever experienced up to this point in my life and I'm just not sure how to explain it.

Now all the heavily religious people out there, please don't get the wrong idea, I'm not going to join you at church, I am still the muddle of religious backgrounds married to an Atheist.

With the lingering awe of a crazy lady, I some how thought witnessing this insight would bring me comfort on the next brutally horrible run. Turns out it doesn't matter how much understanding or appreciation you have...you still have to get your ass through the run without dying.


Friday my coach made me run 4 miles to a steep hill and do "hill repeats". What are hill repeats? Well it is what it sounds like...only worse. At the very steepest part of the hill, you are forced to run as hard and fast as you can (with correct form: on the balls of your feet with knees high) for 45 seconds. 45 seconds doesn't sound that long until you are sure you are going to die. Then you do it again, and again. I do not have the words to describe what the pain of going full out up a hill feels like, but I can tell you that I am VERY familiar with the sensation of keeping vomit at the back of my throat. After this fun torture, you just run the 4 miles back home! The run home was slow, painful and full of self doubt. What the hell am I doing out here?

If God is on the treadmill, the Devil is on the road.

Today, was a recovery run. I feel like my legs were secretly borrowed by someone that ran a Marathon and hung the sorry used legs in a closet and I accidentally put them on. They feel entirely unfamiliar. In addition to the pain, this training is not what I thought, not only am I not getting faster, I am actually going the other way and running slower! Not only do the long runs hurt, but the short runs are devastating. My legs hurt all the time and the grit it takes to not cry and scream and throw things is pushing me to my limit. I am either going to become a Saint from this, or end up in the looney bin.

Today I am grateful to have my stupid, horrible run over with and I pour myself a glass of wine and let the hot tears fall into it. Each tear splashing into the glass, a silent prayer that I twist my ankle and can quit running.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Can You Say Steep?

Where do I start with this run.

As we got our young son ready for school this morning, my coach and loving husband asked "hills or sprints?". I hadn't even had my coffee and he was already excitedly asking how I wanted him to torture me on my long training run that day. I ignored him and hoped I could hide in my coffee cup.

Ignoring coach didn't work, he pestered me until finally he just decided on his own and announced "we will be running the 'gas line' road". I knew I was in for it when I heard this as I have heard my hubby and his brother discuss this run and its brutality. I should have picked sprints.

After a couple mile warm up along my usual route, we turned and ran up an arroyo. For those of you not familiar with these dried up old river beds, they are either rocky or deep sand...think the beach...and you are running in it. Oh wait, you probably pictured the hard packed sand at the waters edge when I said 'beach', but what I mean is the deep swollow-you-up sand that you trudge through to get to that awesome place at the beach. It is not fun to run in the sand. Coach says it strengthens your stabilizing muscles. Evidently this is a strength run.

After about a mile, the course changed to rolling hills, an old service road. The hills continued to increase in size and I was alerted to the fact that there would be 3 horrible hills...with each rolling hill I asked if that was one of the horrible ones, coach said I would know it when I saw it. Hmmm...I asked because I thought I had seen it.

Hill 1. Now there are hills and then there are HILLS. As we approached the little bastard, coach informed me that I wouldn't simply attempt to run up the thing, but that I would do it on the balls of my feet and with high knees. What the hell? Now that is a work out. After that I was happy for the rolling hills and then we hit Hill 2.

Hill 2. The burn in my thighs was still singing from Hill 1 when we hit Hill 2. This thing was a beast! Steeper and longer than the 1st, this hill required me to focus on my balance simply so I didn't fall backwards off the damn mountain! At one point I thought I might need to find hand holds and looked at a big rock considering grabbing onto it. Then I fantasized about taking that rock and smashing it into my head so I could get out of doing this run. At the top I tried to catch my breath, my thighs now SCREAMING, but there was no stopping, just the reprieve of more rolling hills.

Hill 3. Do you know that feeling of doom? Maybe the sense one feels before they are attacked by a shark, they see it coming, they know it is going to be horrible, but there is no way out...ya, that is how I felt. This Hill was the longest of the 3 and might possibly be taller than Everest. I dug deep and worked really really hard to not complain. I may need to remind you that I have promised to stop complaining ON the runs. Today I felt like I was working a Buddhist path to Enlightenment, it was a deep down soul wrenching experience to NOT complain! Mid way up the horrible horribleness, coach reminded me to pick up my knees. May I remind you AGAIN just how hard it was NOT to complain?

At the top I was allowed to stop and try to stand on my now shaking legs. I might mention the beautiful view or the incredible green of the cottonwood trees that we were now high above...but I hated the world at that point. Now, I had to run down these hills...and my legs were absolute jello.

As we hit the road and my old running route once again, I realized that the run home was going to be difficult. My legs were mush...burning mush and my heart was pounding from the effort to propel my body forward. It took forever to complete those miles. I ceased talking or responding to my husband's chipper observations of our charming town. I pulled every ounce of willpower out to keep myself from crying. I mean really? I thought I was over the running-makes-me-cry thing! Obviously not.

At home, my thighs tingled and felt like they had a scorching sunburn from the effort they had just put out. It took me nearly an hour to stop feeling like I wanted to weep. Now that I type that, I kinda want to cry again.

I never complained.

Thank God for this blog so I can let it all out! Now for some very very well earned Fueling. I may have to drink my wine straight from the bottle because I can't fathom getting up to get a glass.
 
-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com