Cross-training is my friend

I love running.  That is no secret (clearly).  But sometimes I like to do other activities to avoid burn-out.  Namely, I love to ride my bicycle (or any bicycle for that matter).  I especially love to mountain bike.  It is thrilling and gritty, and muddy and bloody.  Boise's weather has been shit lately, but the other day it was actually DRY and 70 degrees.  What a perfect day for a ride!  I rode out to Lucky Peak Reservoir with Chuck and Danny to ride what Chuck called a "fairly easy trail".  Chuck lied.

 Please note the mud and loose rocks.  This was actually a semi-rideable section of the trail.  Much of it was a 'stream' of run-off with huge ruts.  I fell off my bike 6 times.  I was bleeding.  I was muddy.  I worked my ass off to keep up with Danny and Chuck.  Sweat was dripping in my eyes, and my hamstrings were on FIRE.

See?  I'm smiling.  This was after crash-and-burn #3, I believe.  It felt soooo good to have the sun on my skin.  I was completely elated, despite my bleeding legs.  I was so high on endophins, I couldn't feel pain anyway.  We reached the top of the trail and relished in the view of the Owyhee Mountains and the miles and miles of the Oregon Trail.

Ahhh, the descent.  I'm a huge weeny, and I squeezed my brakes the majority of the way down.  But I don't think I stopped smiling once.  We rode through puddles and flew around bushes.  I was so exhilarated, I never wanted to stop!

In the end, I think we ended up riding over 30 miles for 3 hours.  I was exhausted.  The endorphins wore off, and my legs began to scream at me.  But I stifled them with a veggie burger and an enormous pile of baked beans. Best. Day. Ever.

You, too, can be this awesome.

16 miles: 16 minutes

I've done it! I've discovered the perfect ratio for long-distance success. And its so damn easy to remember, even your fuel-starved brain can pull it off.  16 miles on the roads/trails= 16 minutes spent in a frigid ice bath.  And I'd say, that between the two, sitting in an ice bath for 16 minutes was definitely the more impressive accomplishment of my Sunday morning.

I managed to run 16 decent miles (8:30 average pace) after a night of indulgence in wine AND beer (I have such a hard time saying no to either- long run or not).  Only toward the end of the run did I begin to feel that threatening ache in my cheeks (the other cheeks) that no amount of stretching can soothe.  I knew what had to be done- but I didn't WANNA!!!

Here's the thing about ice baths: they're unpleasant.  In other words "they hurt like a bitch".  I'm sure if anyone were stand on the other side of the door and listen to me getting into an ice bath, they would think they were hearing a horrible account of S&M.


So why do I do it?  The answer is simple.  I do it because I enjoy walking without feeling like there are 2 daggers shoved in my ass-cheeks.  Ice baths are a miracle.  And its possible to make them infinitely more enjoyable by taking a few simple comfort measures.  I give you exhibit A:

(Yes, I look like a huge gomer). But notice my down-jacket.  Notice my stocking cap.  Notice my piping hot beverage- all crucial elements to the perfect ice bath.  On this particular Sunday, I also indulged in Pandora Radio (specifically Dave Matthews Band Radio) to pass the 16 minutes.  (Please note: to avoid soaking your warmest winter jacket, remember to fashion it into a midriff-baring jacket by rolling it up).

The initial entry into the tub is unspeakably terrible, but after a minute or 2 it is possible to quiet your screaming, profanity-stricken mind and focus on your beverage and the music. And there I sat- 1 minute for every mile I ran.  And then I took a hot hot shower.

Its like I tricked my legs into forgetting they ran.  I woke up yesterday and bounded down the stairs.  I even ran 4 miles followed by some weight training.  All of this made possible by: ice baths.  Its a 1:1 ratio that can really save your (running) life.

Run, Fatgirl, Run

The other day I experienced something I like to call the "fat kid with asthma" phenomenon. The feeling is pretty self explanatory... I woke up at about 3:30 pm after working a night shift and decided I should probably do a short run before going back to the hospital (even though I desperately didn't want to).  I tied my shoes as slow as humanly possible and wandered aimlessly around my house in an attempt to delay the inevitable.  After wasting a good ten minutes, I finally forced myself out the door.

A little ways into the run I could feel my legs rubbing and my lungs burning... I looked down at my trusty Garmin... much to my dismay, I had run less than a mile.  There it was- the "fat kid with asthma" phenomenon.  It had appeared at a rather inopportune time; less than a mile into a 4 mile run.  Once the phenomenon sets in, it is nearly impossible to shake.  I was breathing hard and could feel every single extra pound on my pathetic body.  Miserable.  So there I was... an endurance sport enthusiast, who couldn't even manage a 4 mile run.  I was even forced to do the unthinkable.  I had to WALK. The horror!

So why is it that I can run 14 incredible miles one day, and fail to run 4 the next?  The world may never know.  "Fat kid with asthma" days are completely disheartening.  There have been days (and even weeks) of the phenomenon when I just wanted to give up running entirely.

But then the skies open up and the running gods smile down upon me...

Today I woke up early (disgustingly early- I'm still readjusting from the night shift), ate breakfast, and went out for a morning run.  This run was the antithesis of the '"fat kid with asthma" phenomenon.  Instead, I felt like a super model on the runway at fashion week.  I was rockin' my short-shorts, and I was FLYING.  I ran 8 incredible miles, and even snuck in a 7:48 min/mile split!  


The moral of this story: some days I feel like a fat kid.  Other days I don't.  Sometimes on the worst of runs, my greatest accomplishment is making it out the front door.  A bad run is better than no run.  And that's the truth.