BEST THAI, WORST THAI-MING
Another week of training in the books and we're now 5 weeks out from NYC Marathon. Trying to calm (the f***) down as I write that.
Yesterday I had 18 miles with a 12 mile cutdown in the middle. But first let me back up. My girlfriends were doing a Vashon weekend, wine tasting and hot tubbing and so on. I couldn't swing it at this point of training, but decided I'd take the ferry over for dinner on Saturday night. It's been way too long since I've seen my friends.
They made reservations at May, which turns out is this absurdly good Thai place. I'm talking it may have bumped Pok Pok down to #2 on my list. Unreal. It has no signage from the outside and feels like a secret.
I scoured the menu for something that would be a minimal shit-my-pants-on-the-long-run risk. I love Thai, but it's never served me well on the run. I landed on a flank steak salad, seemed like things my stomach would recognize as friends. It said spicy on the menu, the waiter asked if I was okay with spice... and it lived up. It was so amazing, it was so flavorful, it was so f***ing spicy. Realizing I was eating no carbs, I ordered a side of rice too.
I got on the second-to-last ferry back to Tacoma, and hit the pillow at 11pm. I promised Owen I'd get up by 6:30a. I slept until 7:30a. He'd been away on business since Wednesday, so after breakfast we decided I could have most of the day to myself and he'd take PJ over to his parents to watch the football game and so on. I'd had a cold for the last three weeks and was excited to have a nap to hopefully help kick it.
My stomach was super crampy and iffy. I could only find one last Powerbar gel. I felt exhausted. Annnnd I was starting about two hours later than I wanted to. As I got in the car to head to the Foothills Trail I vowed to get myself together for the next 5 weeks of training, it's time to act pro, and forgave myself the list of wrong-doings already committed on this long run day.
I Thai steak burped my way through the three mile warmup. Other than my stomach, which was audibly slooshing around, I felt good. It's always nice to get on some flat after all the hills I run during the week in the 253. The warm-up was over and I started rolling. Felt smooth, out too fast, but not by much. About halfway I ran into some guys I knew out on their Eliptigos, we chatted for a half a mile during my 6:40s. I was feeling smooth, with sore legs from the drills I'd ramped up last week.
Then as the pace dropped and the effort increased, Thai steak salad started talking. Suddenly the work became harder than I'd hoped. My stomach was all I could think about. The mental battle was good I reminded myself. This is how the last miles could (would) feel. Time to practice not punking out when it hurts.
I'd dropped a water bottle at 3 to go in the cutdown but as I approached I knew I couldn't add anything to this stomach party. I ran past it feeling very dehydrated, but determined. Mainly determined that I wouldn't poop my shorts on a public bike path. The last two miles of workouts I often have to steer my thinking away from post run rewards, focus on the work. The last two miles of this workout, I was like... just finish this and you can poop anywhere. My stomach was cramping so bad, and I had that clammy uh-oh feeling. That was my big reward, public pooping. I was 99% sure I'd be pooping curbside, no shame. Maybe just on the bike path. I didn't care.
One more mile beep left and I focused in, I had been consistently 5 seconds under pace on all miles. I needed to finish this up. It was a solid 6:09 of basically chanting, don't poop, don't poop... and done. As I slowed to a jog, my stomach settled. And I celebrated the fact that I wouldn't need to have a bathroom-emergency on the bike path. Major win!
I jogged back to the car, slammed a liter of water, changed into dry clothes and headed home. I crashed as soon as I got home, slept in my sweaty hair for two hours, then dragged myself out of bed to shower. The week had been a down week, but due to small bumps in the road it had been more draining than I'd hoped. Single momming isn't easy in general, and with a headcold dragging me down and trying to find the windows to run while keeping up on everything else made it feel harder. It didn't help that PJ got up at 5am every morning.
I used the rest of the night to decompress, drank lots of water and focused on nutrition. My left hamstring was complaining the last few miles, so I hit the Comprehensive Hip/Hamstring Reset on Jasyoga and went to bed early. These are the peak weeks, time to fine tune and get right. After my small fumble yesterday, I'm ready to prioritize my training and recovery for the next five weeks. NYC or bust!
Yesterday I had 18 miles with a 12 mile cutdown in the middle. But first let me back up. My girlfriends were doing a Vashon weekend, wine tasting and hot tubbing and so on. I couldn't swing it at this point of training, but decided I'd take the ferry over for dinner on Saturday night. It's been way too long since I've seen my friends.
They made reservations at May, which turns out is this absurdly good Thai place. I'm talking it may have bumped Pok Pok down to #2 on my list. Unreal. It has no signage from the outside and feels like a secret.
I scoured the menu for something that would be a minimal shit-my-pants-on-the-long-run risk. I love Thai, but it's never served me well on the run. I landed on a flank steak salad, seemed like things my stomach would recognize as friends. It said spicy on the menu, the waiter asked if I was okay with spice... and it lived up. It was so amazing, it was so flavorful, it was so f***ing spicy. Realizing I was eating no carbs, I ordered a side of rice too.
I got on the second-to-last ferry back to Tacoma, and hit the pillow at 11pm. I promised Owen I'd get up by 6:30a. I slept until 7:30a. He'd been away on business since Wednesday, so after breakfast we decided I could have most of the day to myself and he'd take PJ over to his parents to watch the football game and so on. I'd had a cold for the last three weeks and was excited to have a nap to hopefully help kick it.
My stomach was super crampy and iffy. I could only find one last Powerbar gel. I felt exhausted. Annnnd I was starting about two hours later than I wanted to. As I got in the car to head to the Foothills Trail I vowed to get myself together for the next 5 weeks of training, it's time to act pro, and forgave myself the list of wrong-doings already committed on this long run day.
I Thai steak burped my way through the three mile warmup. Other than my stomach, which was audibly slooshing around, I felt good. It's always nice to get on some flat after all the hills I run during the week in the 253. The warm-up was over and I started rolling. Felt smooth, out too fast, but not by much. About halfway I ran into some guys I knew out on their Eliptigos, we chatted for a half a mile during my 6:40s. I was feeling smooth, with sore legs from the drills I'd ramped up last week.
Then as the pace dropped and the effort increased, Thai steak salad started talking. Suddenly the work became harder than I'd hoped. My stomach was all I could think about. The mental battle was good I reminded myself. This is how the last miles could (would) feel. Time to practice not punking out when it hurts.
I'd dropped a water bottle at 3 to go in the cutdown but as I approached I knew I couldn't add anything to this stomach party. I ran past it feeling very dehydrated, but determined. Mainly determined that I wouldn't poop my shorts on a public bike path. The last two miles of workouts I often have to steer my thinking away from post run rewards, focus on the work. The last two miles of this workout, I was like... just finish this and you can poop anywhere. My stomach was cramping so bad, and I had that clammy uh-oh feeling. That was my big reward, public pooping. I was 99% sure I'd be pooping curbside, no shame. Maybe just on the bike path. I didn't care.
One more mile beep left and I focused in, I had been consistently 5 seconds under pace on all miles. I needed to finish this up. It was a solid 6:09 of basically chanting, don't poop, don't poop... and done. As I slowed to a jog, my stomach settled. And I celebrated the fact that I wouldn't need to have a bathroom-emergency on the bike path. Major win!
I jogged back to the car, slammed a liter of water, changed into dry clothes and headed home. I crashed as soon as I got home, slept in my sweaty hair for two hours, then dragged myself out of bed to shower. The week had been a down week, but due to small bumps in the road it had been more draining than I'd hoped. Single momming isn't easy in general, and with a headcold dragging me down and trying to find the windows to run while keeping up on everything else made it feel harder. It didn't help that PJ got up at 5am every morning.
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| Another mental win this week was my midweek 15 complete with sinus headache from Satan |
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| Between runs shake-out "hike" with my buddy |
I used the rest of the night to decompress, drank lots of water and focused on nutrition. My left hamstring was complaining the last few miles, so I hit the Comprehensive Hip/Hamstring Reset on Jasyoga and went to bed early. These are the peak weeks, time to fine tune and get right. After my small fumble yesterday, I'm ready to prioritize my training and recovery for the next five weeks. NYC or bust!