Category Archives: Fitness

52 Weeks, 52 runs. No. 10: The fantastic four

Posted on March 8, 2012 | 17 comments

It occurred to me on the weekend that I spend a good deal of time these days looking at butts. It’s the price I pay for always being in the bottom (heh) third of a run. I’m privy to 30-45 solid minutes of butts in tights; butts in leggings; butts in jeans (yes, jeans); butts in shorts; butts in shorts-over-tights; butts in tutus; and – my new favorite – butts in kilts.

The latter I hadn’t experienced prior to the Wild Rover series, which I am currently in the midst of running as part of my 52 Weeks, 52 Runs challenge. (I wonder how it feels to run in a kilt. If any aficionados are reading this, you must let me know.)

Claddagh Pub 4-Mile Classic

The colorful crowd lines up for the start. Spot the kilt!

This past weekend was the Claddagh Pub 4-Mile Classic in Lawrence, MA, No. 2 in the series. Savvy readers will note that I had never run that far. Ever. You might also recall that I hadn’t done a stitch of training coming up to this race, apart from the Frozen Shamrock 3-Mile Run the weekend before. If you look up “unprepared” in the dictionary, you may well find a picture of me, probably wearing tights and holding a beer.

Claddagh Pub 4-Mile Classic

The start. Needless to say, I was nowhere near here when the race began.

Despite the gloomy skies, it was a great day weather-wise. I’ll take any scenario where the temperature is above zero, and the wind isn’t being huge fat bully (see last week’s run). Also, no sun means my face is at least one shade of crimson lighter.

But still, I was convinced, convinced that this was going to be a disaster. I hadn’t trained, hadn’t ever run farther than 3.5 miles (and I wouldn’t call what I was doing on that day running), and hadn’t mentally prepared for a longer distance (four miles is short to some, but an eternity to me).

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52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 9: Between a shamrock and a hard place

Posted on March 1, 2012 | 12 comments

I’m feeling a little green this week, which is fitting given that I’m in the midst of running the Irish-themed Wild Rover Series. A new job has my mind occupied and my butt attached to the nearest soft surface. The gym is a distant memory. And though my 52 Weeks, 52 Runs schedule is on track, my attention and enthusiasm have been diverted while I find my footing at the new gig.

So, of course, I’m completely prepared to run four miles this coming weekend and five the weekend after …

When Hubby and I first signed up for the three-race Wild Rover series, which ups the mileage every week, we figured it would be a great way to ease me into slightly longer distances. But now I’m thinking it’s going to be a great way to ease me back onto the couch.

Frozen Shamrock 3-Miler

Who needs shorts when you can run in kilts!

Ah, I figure it’s all part of the, um, fun.

The first Wild Rover installment was last weekend’s Frozen Shamrock 3-Mile Run. (That’s right, a three-miler! I didn’t even have to run that extra 0.1, which must be what brings me undone on a typical 5K. Right?)

Sponsored as it was by an ale house, there was obviously going to be beer – clearly a draw for me. (I love how beer and running have become inextricably linked in my world.)

There was also some superior neck bling, in the form of a medal with three parts that come together to form a lucky charm (you get one bit every race). Many of you know how I feel about medals that don’t double as wine stoppers, but I admit that this triple-shiny is pretty cool.

Frozen Shamrock 3-Miler

Three times the charm! From Ashworth Awards.

Anyway, on to the run (sometimes I forget that’s the point!). I started out at a blistering pace ( in my mind, anyway), and was breezing along for the first half mile. Which probably had more to do with the strong tailwind than any newly acquired skills on my part.

The blistering stopped when I encountered hilly nemesis No. 1, but I took the incline at a good clip, reaching the first mile marker at 11.32 (I love races with timing clocks at each mile), which was about 11.16 if you factored in the gun time. (Yes, I speak like this now.) I was on fire! OK, more like on smoulder. On fire would have been sub-11, but still …

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Less running, more flying

Posted on February 25, 2012 | 10 comments

I started a fab new job this week. On Friday when I left for the weekend, I felt as though I had run a marathon, but without the red-faced shame (I hope) or the medal. (There may have been a banana.) Still, I decided it was all part of my running “training.” So, this is what it feels like …

Anyway, in the absence of stories involving new running shoes or random bulk purchases made by Hubby, I thought I’d share this old-but-great Natalie Dee cartoon (nataliedee.com). It speaks to me in many ways. (The reference to tights makes me think of my trusty CW-X beauties and their circulation-stymying properties. Also, I believe she may be on to something with that cape.)

Anxiety Girl

Her outfit looks suspiciously like my absurd winter running uniform.

More 52 Weeks, 52 Runs shenanigans in the next few days. I’m running the first of the Wild Rover Series in Haverhill, MA, tomorrow. There will be beer.

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52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 8: Did 5K just become longer?

Posted on February 21, 2012 | 12 comments

Despite the absence of official beer, I had high hopes for last weekend’s 5K run, the Old Fashioned 10 Miler and Flat 5K in Foxboro, MA. This was primarily due to the distinct lack of hills. Or sand. Or sand in hill form. Glee!

Old Fashioned 10 Miler and Flat 5K

Our shadows waiting for the starting gun.

Hills and I have a long, troubled history, and sand is a recent addition to the list of things that give me the fear, so I wasn’t at all upset that they both decided to make themselves scarce. Add to the mix some brilliant weather (if this is winter then I’m a marathoner), and the fact I had a running buddy who shares the same pace as me, and things were looking up.

With the blazing sun at our backs, Running Buddy and I started off strong … Probably too strong … Definitely too strong (when I say “strong,” I mean a 10.20 pace. It’s all relative, of course). We were going great guns until mile marker No. 2 loomed (when I say “great guns,” I mean me wheezing like a cat with a hairball, and taking my inhaler more than I would have thought necessary. But still, we didn’t stop).

But back to that mile marker …

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52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 7: Didn’t sand a chance

Posted on February 15, 2012 | 13 comments

I grew up in Sydney’s western suburbs, an hour’s drive from the nearest beach, so I didn’t get many chances to channel my inner bronzed Aussie. I hated getting sand in all the wrong places, couldn’t surf, and was scared of the waves after I got too big for my dad’s shoulders. The only time I ever ran (i.e., stumbled ineffectually) was when I needed food and had to traverse lava-hot sand in order to get it. Needless to say, I was an inelegant beach-goer.

I adore the beach now – but not much has changed, it would seem.

Frosty Knuckle 5K

Me vs. the water at the Frosty Knuckle 5K in Salisbury, MA.

As part of my 52 Weeks, 52 Runs challenge, Hubby and I signed up for the Frosty Knuckle 5K at Salisbury Beach, MA (actually, it was a 3.5-miler, but 5K sounded snappier). I was excited about this road/beach run as I figured it would make for a fun change from all the dullsville paved surfaces. Also, there are no hills down by the water! Or so I thought …

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