Changing Parameters

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

A Tale of Two Bridges


OK, it was only one bridge, but apparently one was enough.

The George Washington Bridge is a suspension bridge over the Hudson River, connecting the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan Island in New York City to Fort Lee, New Jersey.

Last Saturday, the team ran from 178th Street in Manhattan, across the George Washington Bridge to the Palisades Park in New Jersey, through the park and then back to Manhattan. The run was based on time, rather than distance. The goal was to run for two hours and twenty minutes, which is about the time that elite runners aim for when running a marathon. So we ran one hour and ten minutes, stopped wherever we were, turned around and ran back.

I used to be afraid of bridges, and I thought I might still have a little problem with them -- I was worried about the run all week. I did fine on the way over. It made me nervous, but not to the point of being irrational. But for some reason on the way back, I was truckin' along, doing just fine, when suddenly one of the suspension cables made a noise – "ping" – and I was sure that the bridge was going to fall. Even though I knew the bridge wouldn't fall. I knew it. Sure. But it scared me, and I took off like a spooked horse.

After running ten 13- or 14-minute miles, I ran the last mile in about 11 minutes.
My running partner was ready to kill me when we finished. "I'm never letting you go in front again!" she said. Of course, that won't be an issue considering I never plan to run across another bridge. One was enough.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

5 + 4 = Pain


Last Sunday I participated in the Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff 5 mile race in Central Park. The team ran this race instead of our usual Saturday long-run. I didn't like the idea of missing a long run, so I decided that I would continue running when I finished the race, running an additional four miles to reach my goal for the week -- 9 miles.

It was a good idea, but I was running late for the race, and though I'd packed a Clif Bar to eat before I ran, I never got around to it. And by the time I thought of it, I was lined up with the other 5,604 runners and I had checked my bag with the other 5,604 bags at bag check. There was no way I could go get it now. So I ran without any nourishment.

Normally I have a tablespoon of peanut butter before a run in the morning. So far that's all I've been able to tolerate. But last week we got a lecture from the coaches about nutrition, and they told us that as these runs get longer, a tablespoon of peanut butter isn't going to cut it anymore. So the morning of that race I decided to forego the peanut butter and threw the Clif Bar in my bag. I was cursing myself for the entire five miles for not remembering to eat it. But I was also cursing the coaches, because it was their fault that I hadn't at least had my tablespoon of peanut butter. And if they hadn't made me so conscious of the importance of nutrition before a race, I bet I wouldn't have suffered so much for it.

I made it through the race, though if I hadn't caught up with my running partner (who I couldnt' find before the race) at about mile three, I probably wouldn't have finished. She kept telling me we were almost there. I knew she was lying, but it helped to have her pushing me along.

When the misery was finally over, I asked one of the coaches if I could run nine the next day since there was no way I could continue on to run another four miles at that point. She said I could, but another option was to get some lunch, take a bit of a rest and then do another four miles later that day.

Right.

After a lovely and nourishing brunch with some teammates, I went home to face all the tasks I had put off all week -- mainly cleaning, laundry, cleaning the kitty litter -- all the really unpleasant stuff. But after about two hours of chores, I felt like I could face another run, so to my own surprise, out I went.

It was a gorgeous day -- unseasonably warm. The park was full of runners, bikers, walkers, roller bladers, picnickers, etc. It was like early spring instead of late October. Under different circumstances, it might have been a great run.

But my knees were stiff from the race when I started out on this four mile run. And I couldn't get enough water. My lips kept drying out. The only thing that wasn't a problem was hunger.

I finished the four mile loop in decent time, but about five minutes into my stretching routine afterwards, I suddenly had to hightail it to the nearest bathroom, which unfortunately was all the way back at my apartment. I hate it when that happens! Not as bad as what happened to the woman who came in second in the NY marathon today -- she puked about two hours into her run. Must have felt awful. Apparently, the problem is that your heart pumps blood to all the muscles that are working hard while you run, so if you have anything in your stomach, it isn't being properly digested because all the blood needed for digestion is going to your legs. Good to know.

Anyway, I managed to get in my nine mile run for the week. I was pretty wiped out for the rest of the day, but I was glad I did it. Every time I run, I learn something new about my body and my mind.

And to my shock, my race time was still about a 12 minute mile, so I may not have improved since the last race, but at least I haven't gotten slower!