A Compilation of Runs, in Which This Erstwhile Runner Travels About 16-17 Miles in Assorted States

A much delayed blog--I started this June 21, a full week ago, as today as the 28th...but more on that later, and a full review of today's (Saturday's) much needed Fells run. There are three runs in here, and I admit that I've been slacking, something I'll address in a separate post.

But here, here is where I started, and then abandoned this blog (I've at last completed):

PART I:
This week finds me again on the road, this time in Mason, Ohio, for a week. After an infertility-inducing 30-minute bike in the hotel's fitness center on Wednesday, I was ready for a run, and to try out my sweet new fuel belt. The problem with that? You really can't take a fuel belt on a short run without looking like a total dork. (Stop! I am aware that even on epic 50- to 100-mile runs, someone wearing a belt with gatorade strapped into still looks a bit...odd--leave me my pipe dreams.)

I headed out into the warm Thursday night air, the sounds of cars zipping along the freeway a tiny buzz in comparison to the near howl of cicadas. [Shudder.]

Let me just say simply the good, and the bad, about this run.

The Good: I logged about 8 miles, the furthest I've gone since the marathon, and though it was hard, I felt pretty good after. Also good: Fuel belt works. Tucked my hotel key, ID, and camera in the pocket, and sipped on water/Gatorade as needed--handy.

The Bad: Running in an industrial park. My run took me by strip malls, through parking lots, through the Proctor-Gamble campus, and at last--into Suburbia. Unfortunately, the suburbia in question was a warren of dead ends and cul-de-sacs, so I just looped in, out, around, and back again, shambling over the same blocks over and over. Also bad--the fuel belt was a little distracting.

All in all, though, still good, and I saw some humorous/interesting things along the way, including:

--One oddly placed stop sign
--A sneak attack mini-park (popped out of nowhere, behind a large power plant-like tower)
--an Irish pub (where I enjoyed a ridiculously good meatloaf and gravy dish, along with a cold IPA, on Friday)
--the Midwest, with all its big-skyed glory

All with the soundtrack of cicadas.

PART II:
My next run in Mason was a sad, sad attempt at intervals. While I did, as noted in an earlier blog, decide that I wanted to shoot for a 7:00 min/mile pace for a 5K, I've since realized that that's a pretty big jump from a 7:51 pace! (I may need to amend the goal, temporarily, to 7:25/7:30, and chip down from there.)

The workout:
Warmup
6 x 1200 meters (.75 mile), with 2 minutes recovery between each, at a pace about 10-15 seconds higher than goal pace--about 7:15, which would give me 5:38 for each .75 mile interval.

What I actually did:
Warmup of 2 miles
4 x 1200 meters--and nary a one at 5:38, even the downhill ones! Despite my desperate push over the distance, the closest I got was about 5:55. So sad.
With the recovery, between 5-6 miles

Ah well. Somedays, it's a victory to just get outside and do it. Chalk this one up as both character-building and humbling.

PART III:
The JP Morgan Chase Corporate Challenge was on Thursday. My long-suffering friends Kate and Allison had agreed to keep me company on this 3-mile run--both as bandits. (The irony being that I, the only registered runner of the three of us, couldn't get into my second office to pick up said number, while Kate somehow managed to acquire one.)

Much should be said of these two remarkable women and their influence on me in running and outside of that. Despite my puppy-like exuberance and desire to bolt ahead, neither of them yelled at me, for one, though I could tell they were also not of a mind to humor me:) All of this despite the fact that I completed blanked on the fact that I'd agreed to run a 7.5 mile race this coming Sunday--and neglected to sign up. Cheer them on from the finish? Bandit? Perhaps? Though I admit it's a shitty thing to do, it may be a shittier thing to bail at this point, when I did say I would do it...

Two of my favorite running buddies, though, and we were able to catch up over a quick beer (delicious cold Corona, flirting with a zesty lime wedge, oh you are so coy) at Cottonwood.