On track? Ehh, kind of...

Today's was the first serious track-style workout of the plan. I will say this Koch before my report: the Hanson brothers do not mess around. 

The workout: 1.5 mile warm up; 12 x 400m repeats at 30 seconds under marathon pace with 400m recovery; 1.5 mile cool down. Just about 9 miles.  

The gear: Nike PROCOMBAT sleeveless v-neck, City Sports 4" compression shorts, Puma bra.  PowerSox, and Newton Distances on the feet. Special shout out to Oiselle's rather apropos unders. 

The outcome: Encumbered by my own hubris, I stared off feeling pretty great, but had trouble adhering to the pace rules. By the time I hit my 11th repeat, I definitely felt the speed in my arms and legs, and felt Harrisburg's swampy heat hamper my lungs. Making matters more interesting, we don't have a readily accessible track in our neighborhood, so the Riverfront Park path works as a reasonable, distance-marked  alternative. It undulates just a bit, making for a couple of interesting feelings in my hamstrings, but the vistas and river breeze make up for it. 

This was by far the toughest track-style workout I've ever done.  Mr. Run on Sentences, long-legged speedster of the family, agreed, so you know it must be true. These guys are so serious about whipping you into shape and after today, my expectation for quick fitness gains have grown. I really like the idea of building significant speed at the beginning of the plan and having it work to build endurance as the weeks progress. It seems like it might be a (tiring, somewhat painful) good change. 

On the work front, we are into the long days and nights that come with negotiating a state budget, so running becomes the highlight of my day as much as work zaps my quippy snark (that's a lot for those playing along at home). I've been writing this during elevator waits and rides -stairs are treachery in heels- so you can sense how crazy it is. The sense of accomplishment, control over circumstantial outcomes, and catharsis of a good sweat help to make the days just a bit more manageable. Sometimes. 

That's all for now.  

Recipe: Roasted Sweet Potato, Beet & Chorizo Hash

I love this time of year. Besides the choice running conditions, the changing season means that our beloved local market has been an autumnal treasure trove. Chock-o-block full of sweet potatoes, beets, butternut squash, kale... you name it. I couldn’t resist the temptation to bring a mess home with me and roast them off so we’d have lots of delicious options for the week.
 
I settled on some sweet potatoes and beets (looked the best, good price) and I was eager to let the kitchen guide me in their use. I opened my freezer, and (as per usual) I zeroed in on my rope of Spanish chorizo, a staple for our household. I decided I’d throw the veggies together with some of that chorizo, mix it with some eggs and make a hash one day that week. Win.

I love chorizo more than any human should, but you can easily sub in any kind of meat, cheese or vegetable that you like. If you do use chorizo, make sure to get the Spanish stuff, as it’s cured and has a rich and delicious smoky flavor. A little goes a long way! (At least that's what I tell myself so I don't eat it all...)Hashes like this are so easy to throw together and entirely flexible in quantity and ingredients. Feel free to leave a comment on how your variations turn out!

Fresh outta the oven and in glass!
 Fortunately, my husband caught me snacking
on the beets before I ate them all...

For the roasting, you'll need:

4 medium sweet potatoes
6 medium beets
Olive Oil
Paprika
Cayenne pepper
Salt (kosher or sea)
Black pepper 

Wash, peel (if needed), and cut the veggies into ½” cubes. Set aside. (Note:  An easier way to peel and grip beets without dyeing the kitchen and yourself a crimson hue? Latex exam gloves.)

In a large bowl, combine enough oil to coat the veggies, and mix with paprika and cayenne (or whatever spices you prefer) to taste. You’ll want to mix them together to make a paste-type coating for the veggies. The saturated flavor of the paprika and cayenne will add so much smoky flavor to the sweet vegetables and compliment the chorizo perfectly.

Add the veggies to an ungreased baking sheet; sprinkle with salt and black pepper to taste. Roast at 425 until they are tender on the inside and slightly crisp on the outside. Check and turn them every 10 minutes. (Your beets will shrink. A lot. Ye be warned. )

If you're using these on a different day, allow the veggies to cool a bit and refrigerate them in glass (preferably). I kept the two separate, but I’m crazy like that.

Not the greatest photo quality, but this
hash can't be beet! (Sorry, couldn't resist that one.)

For a Roasted Sweet Potato, Beet & Chorizo Hash for 2:

2 oz. Spanish chorizo picante
2 cups roasted vegetables
3-4 eggs
Milk (for egg mixture)
Cheese (your favorite - for top or mixing in at the end) 

Crack 3-4 eggs in a bowl and add a squirt each of mustard and sriracha (optional but encouraged), and some salt and black pepper. Loosen the mixture with a few tablespoons of milk until desired consistency.

Mince the chorizo into small pieces (it’s easier to cut if it’s frozen/really cold) and place into a large skillet on medium heat.

Saute the chorizo for a few minutes until the fat renders off and the bits become brown (try not to pick out too many for yourself!).

Add the vegetables and saute until they become brown and crisp.

Add egg mixture and stir constantly until the eggs are desired doneness. I know everyone has their own preference, but crispy egg bits are delicious.

Top with a bit of your favorite cheese (or stir it in at the end) and serve! 

You can enjoy this balanced dish safe in the knowledge that it’s yummy, satisfying, and able to fuel some pretty big morning runs.


Beer Pairing:  Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA. The alcoholic-yet-sweet nose, silky texture, and complex finish paired beautifully with the spice from the chorizo and sweetness from the veggies. It's a massive beer, so I recommend splitting it so that you can actually remember how good your meal was.

 ¡Buen provecho!

Race Report: Harrisburg Half Marathon (September 9, 2012)

Sweet photo courtesy of my mom, who
joined my dad and husband at the finish line!

Folks who know me well are [probably more] aware [than they care to be] of my inability to close in long races. A smattering of innocuous ailments typically combine to create some late mile issues that preclude a strong finish. In my determination to change this before Marine Corps Marathon, I decided to throw a half marathon into the training mix.

I talked to the awesome Runner’s World Challenge folks about integrating the Harrisburg Half Marathon into my plan. On Sunday I was scheduled for 20 miles with a fast finish (meaning that we could throw in some race pace miles if we were feeling good), so I thought it would work out.

It was an absolutely perfect morning:  clear and cool with a lovely breeze to counter the sun.

Despite the idea conditions, I knew it would be foolish to try to PR. The trainers (rightly) had cautioned that if I raced too hard, I could risk significant injury during high mileage weeks like these. So, instead took the trainers’ advice and ran the balance of the mileage easy and made a realistic race plan. I started with a nice run up to the Civil War Museum in Reservoir Park and made my (roundabout) way to City Island. On the way, I went over the target mile times in my head a few times. Miles 1-8 would be easy pace, and then I’d take 8-13 to race pace to see how it felt. Today wasn’t about a PR... it was about the three Ps:  practicing patience in early miles, maintaining proper pace, and managing pain in the later miles.

By virtue of this plan, I would be doing something I’ve never successfully done in a long distance race: finally nailing a negative split (running the second half faster than the first).

I got to the start loose, excited, and kind of nervous. I ate my first round of Clif Shot Bloks and waited. I wasn’t sure how everything would go. 80% of the course consists of miles I run regularly, so I knew what they would feel like, but I was most nervous about the psychological impact of pushing through on those late miles on tired legs. I’ve bonked more times than I care to admit, and I refused to choke on such a beautiful day.

The scenic course shone on such a gorgeous day. After a lap around City Island, we ran into the Shipoke neighborhood and eventually turning onto the Capital Area Greenbelt’s trails, which made quick work of slowing down the pack. Upon exiting the trail, we entered Riverfront Park’s lower path, which runs right along the river. The path isn’t in great condition, but the crowd support was wonderful. We then took the first Midtown-area ramp up onto the park’s upper path for our second out-and-back section.

Despite the variance of terrain, the first miles clicked off with relative ease. The jitters settled when I saw a high school classmate who was running his first half marathon (congrats!). He understandably didn’t seem keen to chat, but we kept pace for at least an hour.

With my mantra in my head and someone to follow, I felt myself easing into my plan. Sure, the excitement of a race makes me want to let loose, but this time I knew I had to nail those splits. Each time I felt myself speed up, I made a deliberate effort to slow down and instead focus on good sportsmanship, commenting on especially good spectator signs, or thanking a volunteer for helping to direct traffic on the open course.

We hit mile 8 on the upper path in the Uptown area, and the real work began. I brought my pace up to the 7:50-8:00 range and settled in. I was amazed at how fresh I felt. Sure, I was tired, but I knew deep down that I had more than enough energy to cover the distance at the accelerated pace.

I grabbed a gel (they served Carb BOOM!, which was more fun to say than eat) at mile 10 and continued down the home stretch. I know it sounds terrible to say, but especially given the fact that I was now in miles 17-20 of my workout, it felt so great to be in a position to have the energy to accelerate and pass others. The folks at Runner’s World are definitely right about the benefits of negative splitting, and I’m going to try to continue that in the marathon.

We made our way to the last mile, and were directed back down to the lower path and up a mean little ramp to get to the Walnut St. bridge to the finish line. Springsteen’s “Rosalita” came on, and I shifted gears, moving up to a 7:15 pace for the last effort, and putting in a final sprint to the finish where my mom, dad, and husband were.

Choking back a little bit of nausea, I collected my medal with great satisfaction. I didn’t puke. I didn’t bonk. I didn’t fade. Something had finally gone right! 1:46 wasn’t my best time ever, but given the nature of the day, it was the best I could have hoped for.

Overall, this was a really nice race. The YMCA’s race director did a great job in organization and execution of a lovely course. Sure, we could always use more port-o-potties and it’s tough to find a way map out a start, but the volunteer support and crowd presence made it a great time. (And, I’m in for any race were I don’t have to worry about parking and can walk home after!)a

If scheduling permits, I’m planning to be back next year, but for now, it’s on to Marine Corps!

Coming later this week:  Recipes for fueling the night before and replenishing after the race!

Morning Has Broken

On Monday, I stumbled upon a piece on Competitor Magazine's website about how one of the writers gains a special kind of spiritual fulfillment from his Sunday runs. 

I couldn't have said it better myself. But, then again, I don't typically talk about my spirituality.

During training I don't make it to formal worship all that often. I grew up in the Presbyterian tradition and still embrace some of its causes; however, as I get older, I have found that my spirituality has really blossomed outside of a brick-and-mortar church. Sunday mornings are now typically reserved for waking up early and logging 2-3 hours of running before most folks get through the sermon. 

That's not to say I don't have guilt about missing services. I thought (and still sometimes think) that somehow I'd become a lesser Presbyterian because my glutes were firing on the road instead of seated in a pew. I know a lot of people believe that attendance is required to be a good Christian and that's totally fine - to each their own. I, however, find that I get my best prayer and meditation in during my runs. 

And best of all, that spiritual time extends to each of the 5 or 6 days a week I run.

Taking it all in during a Sunday morning 14 miler throughout Point Loma and Mission Bay in San Diego (February, 2012). This route featured some of the most stunning miles I've ever run (more on SoCal jaunts in a future post).

Especially during hard workouts, I remember to take at least a quarter mile or so to think about how blessed I am to be healthy and free to run where I please. No phones. No music. No email. Just peace. 

It's an opportunity to reflect, to collect, to offer praise, to ask for help. 

These past few days, I've been increasingly thankful for bearing witness to the wonder of daybreak. I've been in awe of watching night gradually give way to the greyed mauve of dawn and feel that elusive fall-tinged breeze renew my spirit. 

And I'll continue to rejoice and be glad in it. 

Does your running ritual satisfy more than your need to complete a training plan or weekly mileage quota? Leave a message with your story!

Run on Sentences: Originally Posted 18 August 2011

In which a British invasion of thoughts imbues my run... 

Yesterday morning, as I was running in Riverfront Park in Harrisburg, I couldn’t help but focus my attention on the Susquehanna River. The morning was foggy and purplish grey, casting an unusual patina on the water. There wasn’t the brilliant sunrise coming over the back of the riverfront buildings. There were no rays reflecting on the water. There was no illumination of suburbia alongside the other bank of the river. Just a murky mass to my left. I couldn’t help but stare at it and let my thoughts wander.

Maybe it was the drum & bass sounds of London Elektricity in my ears that automatically sent my thoughts to England, but at that moment, it all looked eerily like my memories of the River Mersey. In those moments, I recalled my short visit to Liverpool when I was 19 and studying abroad in London.

I took a walk along the quay and made my way to the Albert Dock (home to the Beatles Story exhibit and the Tate Liverpool - go there). I stood on the edge, leaning on the ropes and looked out into nothing. A grey, all-engulfing, cotton candy-like mass atop the water. The cold autumnal fog sat so thick, that if a giant river monster were to have jumped out, I might have missed it until it was too late. I remember immensely enjoying the mystery of walking along the river and not knowing what lay in the water. 

Again, maybe it was the entrancing music, but I then thought of the Merseyside murk in sharp contrast to the ebullient sun that often graced the River Thames in London. Sure, there were many instances of that ubiquitous grey fog of London lore, but those sparkling sunny days are the ones forever emblazoned in my mind. Long sunset/ evening walks along the Victoria Embankment after I finished a day's work at my Westminster internship were some of the most beautiful and peaceful times. 

A quarter mile later I shook off the haze of romanticized memories and wondered why I never ran while I was in London. It wasn’t until after I returned Stateside that I took up the lifestyle in earnest. The thought boggled my mind - to the point where I was upset for neglecting her streets. Sure, I walked everywhere, but runners know there’s no better way to explore a place than through the run. Dodging her cockney street vendors. Intricately navigating her cobblestone alleys and treacherous zebra crossings. Listening to her street buskers serenade with their folk tunes and garage hip hop. Blazing through her streets so quickly that the smell of the pie shop fuses with the kebab stand to create its own titillating musk. I still regret not taking full advantage of exploring her streets and parks like that. (It probably would have also helped moderate the somewhat weighty effects of discovering a deep appreciation for sipping a fine IPA.)

As has been made fairly explicit, while I love my life now, I will always miss London terribly. She’s a dirty, loud, diverse mix of aristocracy, art, immigration and innovation like no other. She’s a writer’s and runner’s dream. I encountered so much self-realization there and I find myself wishing that I had discovered running, too. It could have been my constant connection to all of the amazing vistas and experiences I was blessed to see and have over there - far superior to any souvenir. 

In my quest to make the most of marathoning, I decided last year (after my first) that I’d like to try to run all five majors in my lifetime. While what Boston means could fill months’ worth of postings, after I finish it, I’m most looking forward to returning to London. And this time, running there. Even if several years pass until my husband and I run the London Marathon, I can’t wait to be a part of this incredible, friendly, elite race and maybe apologize to that amazing place for not celebrating it like I have so many other cities. And what could be better than honoring this gem of a city, than running the mother of all London courses and rediscovering all of her many jewels?

But for now, I’ll settle for brief glimpses into memories past... if for nothing else than to help the miles go by just a bit quicker...