Wonderful Wednesday is the not-so-aptly named Wednesday workout I partake in during periods of arduous marathon training. Wonderful Wednesday is the brainchild of my mother and her friend Sue (whom I refer to as Mommy #2). Essentially, Wonderful Wednesdays involve either hill repeats or Yasso 800s (more on that later), well before the sun comes up. You've probably already realized that the name Wonderful Wednesday does not actually reflect the quality of the day. In summary, Wednesdays suck. This morning was no exception.
My alarm sounded at the unfamiliar hour of 4:50 am. I mindlessly lumbered out of bed. With eyes still closed, I pulled on my running tights, long sleeves, and reflective vest. Despite the premature start to my day, my stomach growled. I downed a Scott's Loaded Granola Bar- literally the most delicious granola bars I've ever tasted in my life. Gone are the days of choking down energy gels and chews- Scott's Granola Bars (namely the Trail Runner bar) are my favorite running food. I hesitantly slunk out the front door and was slapped by the freezing pre-dawn temperatures. I met my mom and her co-worker/friend Joni (fellow "committed" runners) for this early morning milieu. The start button on my Garmin sounded the commencement of this Wednesday's journey.
We ran 7 miles, including 5 Yasso 800's. Yasso 800's are the creation of ultra-runner Bart Yasso. They are a series of 800m (half-mile) intervals with time specific goals. For example, say your goal is to run a 3 hour and 40 minute marathon (my goal), you should aim to complete each 800m interval in 3 minutes and 40 seconds, jog/recover for another 3 minutes and 40 seconds, and repeat. Ideally, a person eventually does 10 Yasso 800's in one workout. Sick. Each 800 is less than pleasant if you really push yourself... which I did. One hour and four minutes later, my run was over and the sun still wasn't up. I enjoyed a cup of tea and greek honey yogurt with chopped almonds as a reward.
You might wonder why I choose to partake in an atrocity like Wonderful Wednesday? And the answer is... I don't know. Seriously. But I do know that I love the feeling of flying down a dark, silent road, and knowing that I've accomplished a small feat before most people have woken up. Its empowering. And it brings me back Wonderful Wednesday after Wonderful Wednesday.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A Complete Running History of Maggie (Abridged)
I have been running since... forever. I'm going to assume I was 8 or 9 when I first ran the "Capitol Classic"- an epic mile-long race that started at the Capitol building, cruised Capitol Boulevard, and finished with a grueling climb to the Train Depot. (Sidenote: I have learned that this race, now named the St. Alphonsus Classic, BEGINS at the Depot so kids don't have to run up the hill... and we wonder why obesity is an issue in this country!) At the finish line I received a free cup of TCBY yogurt, and decided that frozen yogurt was totally worth the run. I was hooked.
I kind of always figured that everyone was a runner. My earliest memories are of being woken up by my grandparents on a Saturday morning, and being driven to the finish line of a race to cheer for Mom and Dad. Completely normal. Totally awesome excuse to drink an Italian soda. Moral of this story: my addiction runs in the family. I blame my parents.
My running resume is fairly short (future aspirations considered), but I think the running community accepts me as their equal. My first half marathon was the Race to Robie Creek, labeled "the toughest half marathon in the Northwest". I desperately wanted to walk around mile 5 (mind you, the first 9 miles are uphill), but my mom warned me, "You'll never forgive yourself!" so I pressed on. I was exhausted. I was a cripple. I was ob-sessed. I ran another Race to Robie Creek and dropped 10 minutes from my original time. I ran a couple other half marathons. Then I ran the Nike Women's Marathon, where I told my friend Bryn that I felt like I was 'bearing children from my legs' (subtlety has never been my specialty). I ran the Portland Marathon. I became a "Single Track Superstar" by running 25 trails around Boise (I did it for the free T-shirt). I even dabbled in triathlons- as I am an avid swimmer and cyclist as well- so I tried the Boise Ironman 70.3. It was... alright. There was too much crap to buy and too many preparations to consider. I'm more inclined to put on a hat, lace up my shoes, and run out the front door. Running is low maintenance- like me.
So as you can see, I love to run. I am certainly not built to run. I don't have long legs and washboard abs. Oh no. I love cookies. And cupcakes. And I run so I can eat them. I run for exhilaration. I run for beer. I run to evade obesity. I run for adventure. I run because I'm fairly certain that running parallels the meaning of life.
I kind of always figured that everyone was a runner. My earliest memories are of being woken up by my grandparents on a Saturday morning, and being driven to the finish line of a race to cheer for Mom and Dad. Completely normal. Totally awesome excuse to drink an Italian soda. Moral of this story: my addiction runs in the family. I blame my parents.
My running resume is fairly short (future aspirations considered), but I think the running community accepts me as their equal. My first half marathon was the Race to Robie Creek, labeled "the toughest half marathon in the Northwest". I desperately wanted to walk around mile 5 (mind you, the first 9 miles are uphill), but my mom warned me, "You'll never forgive yourself!" so I pressed on. I was exhausted. I was a cripple. I was ob-sessed. I ran another Race to Robie Creek and dropped 10 minutes from my original time. I ran a couple other half marathons. Then I ran the Nike Women's Marathon, where I told my friend Bryn that I felt like I was 'bearing children from my legs' (subtlety has never been my specialty). I ran the Portland Marathon. I became a "Single Track Superstar" by running 25 trails around Boise (I did it for the free T-shirt). I even dabbled in triathlons- as I am an avid swimmer and cyclist as well- so I tried the Boise Ironman 70.3. It was... alright. There was too much crap to buy and too many preparations to consider. I'm more inclined to put on a hat, lace up my shoes, and run out the front door. Running is low maintenance- like me.
So as you can see, I love to run. I am certainly not built to run. I don't have long legs and washboard abs. Oh no. I love cookies. And cupcakes. And I run so I can eat them. I run for exhilaration. I run for beer. I run to evade obesity. I run for adventure. I run because I'm fairly certain that running parallels the meaning of life.
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