On the move

This site has moved. The new site is http://amyreinink.wordpress.com. While you're clicking, visit my Washington Running Examiner site, too!

A hospital for iPods

After weeks of hemming and hawing, wondering whether my 3-year-old, first-generation iPod Nano might magically heal itself, I have sent it to what I hope is the equivalent of a hospital for iPods. A helpful comment on this blog earlier this week led me to Milliamp, which promises to replace your iPod's battery — something I hadn't even known was possible — for about $50, once you factor in shipping and other random fees. This is a heckuva lot better than the 10 percent discount on a new Nano promised my Apple if I traded in my old one.

Though I was originally sketched out by the directive to send my iPod to San Antonio, Texas, for the operation, I realized this morning that my iPod is basically worthless to me as it is. It lasts maybe 20 minutes now before crapping out, and I'm going to need a LOT more than 20 minutes to cover 13.1 miles in a couple weeks. Plus, I found stories in papers like the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and The San Antonio Business Journal to confirm that this is a real business with a storefront and employees and Chamber of Commerce membership.

I FedExed it this morning. Milliamp promises a one-day turnaround once it arrives in San Antonio, we my hope is that I'll have it back by March 21. Keep your fingers crossed, would you?

Who's hungry?

I know. Stupid question. You're a runner. Of course you're hungry. When runs get longer and appetites get larger, eating can practically become a second workout each day. Who hasn't heard about carbo-loading before a big race? And have you seen those post-race spreads?

The thing is, for all the eating we do, most of us struggle to find the perfect pre-run snack or post-run meal. My friend Meredith, a lifelong swimmer who's just getting back into running, asked for some suggestions for pre- and post-run snacks.

We'll save long-run fuel, with its complicated protein-carb ratios and 30-minute refueling windows, for another day. Same goes for Gu, which shall not be addressed in this blog post. The beauty of eating before and after a shorter run — somewhere in the 30-minute to hour range — is that you can pretty much just go with whatever feels good in your stomach. The hard part is, it can be tricky to find a snack that feels good in your stomach once it's all jostled around from running.

My favorite pre-run snacks, which I usually consume an hour or two before running:
A Luna bar (or Fiber One bar, or Kashi GoLean bar — you get the idea)
A cup of yogurt with a little Fiber One
A fruit salad with bananas, strawberries, blueberries, lemon juice, vanilla and Splenda
A low-fat muffin (I'll include my pre-marathon chocolate-chip banana bread recipe below)

After a run, it's all about what seems appealing after the aforementioned jostling. The single best post-run snack I've found is chocolate milk. I first tried it after reading this amazing study in which researchers found that plain ol' chocolate milk helped a group of male cyclists recover their glycogen stores faster than Gatorade, a high-protein recovery drink and other fancy, expensive brews. It supposedly has the perfect ratio of simple carbs to protein. I dunno if that's the case, but it's REALLY yummy. If the end of a run coincides with dinnertime, like after a Tuesday-night Pacers run, I almost always make a quesedilla, or something else that's quick to prepare and easy to digest.

Speaking of easy to digest (not to mention easy to eat several servings of in one sitting), I find that this chocolate-chip banana bread hits the spot just about any time: pre-run, post-run, sans-run ...

2 cups whole-wheat flour
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 c sugar (you can substitute Splenda for some of this, if you like)
1/4 c applesauce
3 ripe bananas, mashed
1/2 c egg substitute
1/3 c plain nonfat yogurt
1/2 c semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine wet ingredients and sugar; set aside. Combine flour, baking soda and salt in a separate bowl. Add dry mixture to wet stuff, mixing gently (or on a low speed) until the batter is just moist. Add chocolate chips. Bake in 8 1/2 X 4 1/2-inch loaf pan covered with cooking spray for roughly 1 hour, 15 minutes, or until a wooden toothpick comes out clean.

Got any favorite running snacks? Share 'em by posting a comment below.

Taking my medicine

Imagine a small child, lips pursed, nose wrinkled, eyes tearing up, head actually moving backward in disgust, as her mom tries to give her a spoonful of nasty-tasting medicine.

This is roughly the attitude with which I set out to do my speed workout this morning.

There are only two training weekends left before the National Half Marathon, and I've committed myself (in my head, at least) to running part of the course on a 10-miler next weekend. Which left me with only one real choice today: hit the treadmill, hard, for one last speed workout.

Oh, the excuses I thought of! I told myself it was too beautiful and sunny to run inside. Then, I told myself I'd have to find a good speed workout course outside. Then, it was back to Plan A, but I told myself I should mix things up and find a new treadmill workout. Then, after sucking it up and putting on my running clothes to head downstairs, I watched at least 15 minutes of "Balls of Fury" with Steve to stall even longer.

Finally, I sucked it up, made like a Nike ad and just did it.

Guess what? It was great! The kind of great that makes you wonder if the treadmill needs to be recalibrated or something. I had set out to do four one-mile repeats — one more than my standard three — at something like 7:30-minute-mile pace. I ended up doing more like an average of 7:15-minute miles, with long spurts of 6:58-minute-mile pace (superhuman for me, if I have to do more than one mile!). And check this: My iPod ran out of juice after the first three mile repeats. I went upstairs, recharged it so it would last another seven minutes, then WENT BACK DOWN and did my last one.

As hard as it was getting off the couch today, the feeling of "I ran four fast miles this morning, I can take on the world" is totally worth it. This all leaves me wondering why we spend so much time and energy resisting things that make us better, healthier and stronger.

Finding a sense of community

I've always embraced the solo nature of running. I love being able to head out for a long run to clear my head, loosen my muscles and enjoy some peace and quiet. I've never understood runners who do it for the sense of community — until now.

After a fun, chatty run with two Pacers friends last night, we all headed to Eggspectation in downtown Silver Spring for a late-night happy hour. The restaurant gave us happy-hour prices on drinks, and let a group of almost 20 sweaty, red-faced runners occupy its back room for a couple hours.

It was SO much fun. I talked to a 5-minute miler training for the Boston Marathon; a 10-minute miler who ran 5 miles to work yesterday; and a group of runners planning to do one of those crazy all-night, 178-mile running relays from Upstate New York to the Bronx (click here to check out the Ragnar Relay series); a former college runner who had a pulmonary embolism last fall who's planning to run the National Marathon March 21 (you KNOW I'll be thinking of her when I get tired in the half). I also saw a running friend who's been injured, who came just to enjoy the feeling of being in a community of runners. Which now, I TOTALLY get.

A fast, cold run provides an ego boost

I had a fabulous run last night with Pacers. We did the hill route that haunted me in my first weeks in Maryland, and it was hard in the best way possible.

Only a handful of runners showed up on account of the blistering cold. It was chilly — something like 20 degrees when we left —but nowhere nearly as bad as I expected. Since there were so few of us, we decided to all go out in the same amorphous pace group. I knew ahead of time I was one of the slower runners in attendance, but all the speedsters in the group seemed content to just chat and take it easy.

About a third of the way through the run, it occurred to me that the majority of the runners had fallen back behind me and two fast dudes I had no business running with. Then, one of the fast dudes fell behind, leaving me and my new friend, Marco, who seemed to barely be out of breath as we chugged up the rolling hills.

As it turns out, Marco is also training for the race on March 21. He's doing the full marathon, and is attempting to beat his previous time of 3:30. Despite being clearly out of my league, he waited patiently as my gasping, expectorating self caught up to him, and carried me through what proved to be a few very fast miles for me. We finished the 5.39-mile route in 43 minutes — about 8-minute miles (and did I mention it was hilly?). I left Pacers feeling like I'd just won the Boston Marathon.

In other news: My fear of commitment has led me to miss yet another race opportunity. I'd hoped to run the Run to Register 10K to get my spot in the Marine Corps Marathon a couple days early. Registration for the Run to Register 10K is closed, leaving me stuck duking it out with the writhing masses online the morning of April 1. (Sigh). But I took it as a lesson and officially threw my hat in the ring for the George Washington Parkway 10-miler in April.

Finally, just wanted to pass along a tool suggested by my friend Kaveh. It's the McMillan Running pace calculator, and you can use it to figure out a goal time for a new distance based on your time for a past race. I've used a less comprehensive version (see the link on the right side of this page) to set unrealistic goal times and to waste hours online. I've also used it to stretch my brain to accommodate exciting new goals after a good race — say, to set a more ambitious half-marathon goal after a solid 10K performance.

The sacrifice of the long-distance runner

Screw loneliness. As I enter the last month of training for the half marathon, it's the sacrifice that seems the hardest thing to manage about long-distance running.

It's not self-sacrifice I'm talking about so much as the sacrifice of those around us. Every Runner's World feature about "regular" marathoners includes some sort of shout-out to the marathoner's neglected spouse and kids. My friend Whitney has blogged about her husband biking beside her on 20-mile runs through 17-degree weather.

Today, I'm nominating Steve for sainthood for giving up a ski trip to Tahoe to give me a better chance at running my best on March 21.

Cliff's Notes version: We were tossing around the idea of an impromptu ski at Lake Tahoe. The only week our schedules would accommodate the trip was March 13 to March 20. For weeks, I felt conflicted about shoving my feet in ski boots, skiing hard, flying cross-country and generally wearing out my body leading up to race day on March 21. I'd ended up putting so many qualifications on the trip ("I could ski hard for half the day, then do groomers in the afternoon!" or: "I could drug myself up for the red-eye flight home to make sure I get a good night's rest!") it hardly seemed worth it for me. Note: That's for me, not for Steve.

Here's the thing about this: It means I'm taking the race seriously. Which feels kinda funny for a middle-of-the-packer for whom there's no prize money on the line, no promise of greatness, only a T-shirt and a finisher's medal. And, you know, the whole sense-of-personal-achievement thing.

Steve TOTALLY got it. Among other things, I told him that if we didn't go, but I had a crappy run anyway, I'd feel really bad. His response: "Everyone has bad running days. You can't control those. What we can control is whether we take a trip that's going to affect the way you run."

Awww.

So we're not going to Tahoe this year. But don't cry for us — we have two ski weekends left at Whitetail, and are planning on a trip to Monterrey in May, timed for my birthday. This new schedule lets us spend more time with the friends we're visiting out there and gives us a chance to do a bunch of things we probably wouldn't have time for in the winter, like visiting a winery or six.

To take the self-applied pressure off myself, I'm employing a trick suggested by my friend Michelle. She suggests making three goals: One that's pie-in-the-sky crazy-good, one that's realistically good, and one backup goal you'd still be OK with achieving. My three numbers at this point: I'd be cool with coming in under two hours (or really, just finishing).I'd like to beat my previous best time of 1:56. And in my crazy-good running dreams ... well, that one's a secret.

Snow day = the world's funnest cross-training

A few pictures from our favorite form of cross-training: skiing! We hit the road to Whitetail as soon as we woke up to fresh snow outside (and heard the snow-day declaration from Steve's work). We volunteer there on the Mountain Safety Team every other weekend, and while we truly have fun every time we work, it was also cool to be on the mountain without any responsibilities at all. We left around 8:30 a.m., skied all day — including at least a dozen bump runs — and got home around 7:30 p.m., sore, tired ... and exhilarated.

Next up: a Pacers run tomorrow night. Let's hope the snow we enjoyed on the slopes has been cleared from the roads by then!

The day the music (or at least my iPod) died

I've been in denial for a while now.

For months, my trusty iPod has been running out of juice after shorter and shorter periods of time, leaving me alone with the sound of my heavy breathing and plodding footfalls. Yesterday, after charging overnight, it died 30 minutes into a 10-mile run. The time has come to let it go.

The good people at the iPod store tell me these are my options: Trade in my old one for a discounted new Nano for about $126, which is out of my immediate price range; or poke around and try to find a "refurbished" one for around $70. The store, of course, did not have any refurbished Nanos, and did not seem optimistic I'd find one. And of course, replacing the battery would cost more than either option.

Has anyone dealt with the death of an iPod before? If so, suggestions for how to replace it without seriously breaking the bank would be MUCH appreciated.

NEW PLAYLIST ALERT!

We saw the surprisingly excellent movie "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" this week, and as the title suggests, it actually does come with a really awesome playlist — er, soundtrack.

Some of the songs will put you to sleep, so stick with the top four, supplemented with some randoms from elsewhere on my iPod. This includes a few oldies but goodies from Vampire Weekend, inspired by my discovery of "Ottoman," which is on the Nick and Norah soundtrack. As usual, post your own suggestions below if you've got 'em — I'm always looking for sweet new running tunes.

Lover - Devendra Banhart
Ottoman - Vampire Weekend
Riot Radio - The Dead 60s
Very Loud - Shout Out Louds
Walcott - Vampire Weekend
Mudhouse - Bob Schneider
M79 - Vampire Weekend
Death to Los Campesinos! - Los Campesinos!
A-Punk - Vampire Weekend
Get Back - Ludacris
So What - Pink (thanks for helping me rediscover this one, Sarah!)
Radio Nowhere - Bruce Springsteen

Hitting the trails

Two super-cool new trail runs to pass along for Montgomery County runners:

>One area running coach told me recently that the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal Towpath, which stretches 184.5 miles through Maryland and Virginia, gets "more crowded than 270 at rush hour" on nice days. That isn't such a problem this time of year, but it's still worth checking out the Gold Mine Trail, which climbs four leafy, rocky miles through the woods above the Towpath in Potomac. The trail starts just behind the Great Falls Tavern Visitor Center (11710 MacArthur Boulevard in Potomac), and spotlights one of my favorite parts of living in this area: the painstakingly preserved history. It takes its name from a functioning gold mine dug in the 1930s! It's less than a five-minute drive to the Beltway, yet seeing the falls (yes, the visitors center takes its name from actual waterfalls) and experiencing the awesome soltitude of the trail made me feel like I was on some back trail in Shenandoah National Park.

>The 6-mile Cabin John Trail through Cabin John Regional Park (7777 Democracy Boulevard in Bethesda) is good for a directionally-challenged runner like me, because frequent road-crossings allow for regular "am I where I'm supposed to be" checks. It starts just beyond the park’s funky Locust Grove Nature Center, which was originally a warming hut for a commercial toboggan operation.

Twisting my ankle in Rock Creek Park just before New Year's humbled me about trail-running in my little, lightweight Brooks shoes, so I actually walked these routes, with some bouts of running where the trail looked nice and clear. But I'll definitely be back in the spring, and those with sure footing or sturdy trail-running shoes should try these trails now.

As for me, Steve and I will be joining the Pacers fun-run gang on the 5-mile Alaska loop tonight.

Fear descends

Race day is three weeks from Sunday, meaning the end is in sight.

Clearly, I'm terrified.

It's not that I think I won't finish – I ran a half marathon with a torn hip labrum, albeit slowly, so I feel pretty good about my ability to run through pain. It's the weight of the expectations that have silently been piling up in my mind. It's the only possible downside to training going well: I may say I don't care how I finish, but if I'm being honest, if I don't post a time for this race that reflects all my hard training runs, I'm going to be very, very disappointed.

Complicating matters is the fact that we're pondering a ski trip to Lake Tahoe the week before the half marathon on March 21. It's the only week that makes sense to take this trip, and it's coming together beautifully so far. I know — everyone feels really, really sorry for me for having to be in this VERY difficult situation. Tahoe would be — will be — awesome, but I'm faced with the fact that there's no way I can ski hard for a few days, take a cross-country flight and hop off and run a perfect half marathon.

Enter the backup race. I've added the Pacers Running Festival Half Marathon on May 10 to my race list. I'll still run my heart out on March 21, but I'll know I have another chance if I don't meet my own mounting expectations.

Training log for the day: Historical Linden/Seminary 5.1 mile loop, which is quickly becoming my favorite Pacers route, last night; swim day today.

Cold-weather tips from the (truly) frosty north

It's cold, and I'm tired.

How many of us have used this as an excuse to stay inside over the past couple weeks? The low here could drop to 22 degrees tonight, which means I need some extra motivation to make me get out the door to my group run tonight. So I asked my friend Amy Sanders, who moved to Minnesota recently from Gainesville,. Fla., for some tips. In Minneapolis, forecasters are predicting single-digit temperatures this week, with HIGHS in the 20s on some days. Thinking of her heading out the door in that weather, with her YakTrax and balaclava, makes me feel like an idiot for even thinking about skipping.

Here's a list of ten tips from Amy for coping with the cold:

1) YakTrax can be a life-saver (or at least spare you from breaking a leg) when it is slippery outside. And, they work a bit better than the old-fashioned "screws in the bottom of your shoes" method.

2) A&D ointment does wonders for chapped skin on your face. You can find it in the baby aisle at the store, and I swear by it to keep my lips from peeling all winter long.

3) Base-layer clothes are essential. They don't have to be expensive, but they do have to be the kind that wick wetness away. Then add a warmth layer and a wind-blocking layer.

4) On really cold days, when a hat alone won't do, buy a balaclava. They cover your head, neck and ears at once. And, when you get to hot, you can push it down just around your neck like a scarf.

5) I swear by good socks in the winter. If you feet get wet or cold or both, you are done for. Typically I do at least two layers if it is below freezing: one to keep my feet warm and one to keep them dry in case I hit any snow.

6) Good stretching before and after is even more important when it is really cold. I try to get warm before I head outside with some jumping jacks or running in place so my muscles stay loose.

7) You have to keep the hands warm. I have a friend who swears by socks instead of gloves or mittens. She says they keep her warm and she puts on layers so she can take them off in layers if she gets too hot.

8) Waterproof your shoes. Again, running in the winter is all about staying dry to stay warm. Buy a can of the waterproofing spray at your local sporting goods store and apply several coats.

9) If you run with dogs, remember to think about them too. I won't let my guys out the door when it is below 20 unless they have something to keep them warm (besides their fur). And, the chemicals for snow removal can irritate their paws, so I am careful where I let them run.

10) Some days you just have to call it a day. Either hit the gym or take a rest if it is too cold outside for your personal preference. I call it quits around 15-20 degrees, but I have friends who run until it is zero. It just depends on your body. There is no shame in not running outside because it is too cold for you -- just don't use it as an excuse to be lazy.

Run like a yak

This blog is about running on ice.

No, silly, not the Billy Joel song.

I'm talking about the nasty stuff that shellacs sidewalks and coats roads this time of year, sending even the most hard-core runners inside to endure treadmill workouts.

We're enduring some cold temps in Washington this week, but it's nothing compared to the snow, ice AND cold my friend Kaveh is dealing with. Kaveh, who moved to New Hampshire recently after growing up and going to school in Florida, asked for some ice advice in a comment a few posts ago, and here's my best attempt at providing some tips.

First, find some snow. Yeah, I know — we usually avoid snowy trails, sidewalks, etc. But snow is slow rather than slippery, meaning a) you'll be able to run outside without fearing death, and b) you'll get an extra-hard workout, like running on the beach instead of the road.

Second — and this is revolutionary to me — put screws in your shoes. I vaguely remember some people in Boulder doing this so they could continue to run on the trails in the winter. You can make your own using this how-to. You can also buy pre-made versions called Yaktrax, which I'm tempted to buy myself just so I can tell people I'm going running in my Yaktrax. According to the Web site, you'll want to check out the Yaktrax Pro, designed for "a mail carrier, runner, outside worker or someone who faces winter conditions on a daily basis." It strikes me that regular ol' cleats should work, too, though they may not offer the ankle support you'd need to slog through the wintry ugliness.

This all sounds like a lot of work, which leads me to one last tip: Opt for fewer, longer runs to make each time you suit up worth it.

Got any running-on-ice tips? Please, please post 'em below!

Incidentally, Kaveh passed along a good cold-weather tip for those of us dealing with the chill in milder climates: Wear gloves, even when you don't think you need 'em. This makes perfect sense to me, as my hands are usually the first thing to get cold.

As for my training log, I'm getting ready to do the stationary bike for a late lunch break. After skiing all weekend, my legs need a low-impact wakeup call before running again. Something embarrassing: My glutes are STILL sore from a tough lifting workout on Thursday and a speedy (for me) 8-miler on Friday!

More tips for coping with cold (and colds)

It's cold and flu season, which conveniently coincides with "it's too cold to run" season. My friend Jen posed some questions yesterday about how to deal with this fact, so I'm posting some tips here in response. Here's Jen's question:

"I ran 6 miles on the treadmill over 2 weeks ago (I know, it's just not cool to run long distances indoors, but I did). I got sick shortly after, and have not done a thing since. I've been tricking myself into thinking that I can't run because I have this lingering, awful cough and still need to "rest." How long do you usually take off after being sick? My 2nd question is, What do you wear when running outside? I always think it's too cold and I'll have trouble breathing. I think I'm wrong."

I struggle with the too-sick-to-run issue, too. I usually run even when I'm practically hacking up a lung, which I'm sure has prolonged many an illness. So I consulted Runner's World for advice. Check out the whole story here, but I'm digging the "neck rule" from David Nieman, Ph.D., who heads the Human Performance Laboratory at Appalachian State University: "Symptoms below the neck (chest cold, bronchial infection, body ache) require time off, while symptoms above the neck (runny nose, stuffiness, sneezing) don't pose a risk to runners continuing workouts." Nieman has run 58 marathons and ultras, so I'm sure he's practiced what he preaches.

As for how to dress in cold weather, if you're worried about it being too cold to breathe comfortably, try wearing a neck gaiter and covering your nose and mouth with it. Your breath will humidify the air, making it easier to breathe.

The best rule of thumb I've heard is to dress for a run as if it's 20 degrees warmer than it actually is.This morning, when I headed out for an 8-mile run (my longest of the week), my car's thermostat read 27 degrees. I wore: A pair of Brooks running tights; a Dri-Fit T-shirt and long-sleeved shirt made from similar material; an ancient North Face fleece; my fleece hat from the George Washington 10K Classic; and my Mizuno Breath Thermo gloves, made from some fancy material that actually heats up when you sweat. These are AMAZING if you're a sweatball like me.

Oh, and I don't think long-distance running on a treadmill is uncool – it's hard-core! It's easy to head out for a run on a balmy spring day or a chilly autumn one. It's what you do when it's in the 20s and icky that makes you a runner, whether that's treadmilling or braving the cold.

Check out several Runner's World stories about coping with the cold here. Also, stay tuned: I'm planning to ask some friends in the TRULY frosty north to share some of their own coping mechanisms.

California dreaming

Motivation today came in the form of an e-mail from a rock-star running friend who recently moved to Monterrey, Calif.

"I had to write you and let you know I've just had the best run!" my friend Sarah wrote. "I'm back! I'm a runner!"

What's she back from? Oh, from having two kids, one who was born in October.

It needs to be said that her hiatus from running hasn't been much of a hiatus. Sarah ran the Nashville Country Music Marathon with me (I use the term "with" loosely — I had miles to go by the time she finished) when Lily, her 3-year-old daughter, was barely walking. She ran a half marathon in Jacksonville while pregnant with Zack on a day so hot, she said she was practically hallucinating. I still use this as motivation during summer races, when I repeat to myself: "Channel Sarah. Run till you hallucinate." It's amazingly effective.

Sarah's loop included a couple of mile repeats on a nearby track and "breathtaking vistas of the Pacific." That's not available to most of us, but her playlist, and her rock-star state of mind, are.

"The playlist on my iPod included 'Stacey's Mom' -- or 'Lily's Mom,' as I like to sing it. This song give me hope as a mom. It also included 'So What' by Pink. I put this song on repeat and probably listened to it 7 or 8 times (not exaggerating). It's my favorite angry-woman power song: 'I am a rock star ... I've got my rock moves ...' "

Sarah's training for the Santa Cruz half marathon in April. Here's how she describes it:

"Santa Cruz is a laid back, surfy, college town about 40 minutes from us. In my head, I imagine all the 20-somethings walking around with their perfect Abercrombie bodies and wardrobes. I don't have huge expectations for this race, as far as a time goes. I'm using it as a starting place to denote my return to running post-baby."

On my run tomorrow, I intend to picture Sarah speeding past all the cute little Abercrombie-clad freshmen on her race toward feeling like her pre-baby self. I suggest anyone who's ever rebounded from anything do the same.

Running despite the wintry mix

I almost didn't go.

I had a big work day with little wiggle room for a leisurely run, and forecasts called for a "wintry mix," which usually means it's a good idea to stay inside. Plus, I'm staying with family friends in Annapolis, meaning I couldn't just go for my tried-and-true 30-minute loop at home. I really almost skipped. But then — and I apologize for going all Oprah on you again — I decided to make myself a priority in my day, and I headed out the door to drive to my intended route.

On my way there, it started to rain. Fabulous.

When I got to the Baltimore & Annapolis Trail, a rails-to-trails path that winds through gorgeous neighborhoods and thick forests, I knew I'd made the right call. I ran 25 minutes out and 25 minutes back on the trail, and I felt SO great! The cold felt refreshing rather than rude; my legs felt fresh after a cross-training day on Tuesday. And best of all, the whole time I was running, the rain was more like snow. Fabulous!

If Oprah can do it ...

I sat down on the recumbent bike this morning intending to peruse The Washington Post from cover to cover. My plans changed when I saw a stray O magazine sitting on the ledge of my apartment complex's gym.

Yes, that's O as in Oprah. This may seem like an unlikely source of motivation and competition for long-distance running, but me and O have a bit of a history.

A week before the 2007 Nashville Country Music Marathon, when my taper was almost complete and it was far too late to change anything about my training, I picked up the Runner's World Women's Guide to Running for some light reading and inspiration.

One chapter started by noting that Oprah had put in several 50-mile weeks before running her 4:20 marathon. This was supposed to be motivational for "regular" runners— if Oprah can do it, anyone can!

It was like I'd just been passed by the guy running in the Sponge Bob costume (which actually happened to me once, but that's another story). I never hit 50 miles in a week, and I will confess here that I did not beat Oprah's time. Oprah isn't the only reason I'm hoping to try another marathon later this year, but if I do find myself at the starting line of the Marine Corps Marathon this fall, I will most certainly be looking to beat her time.

The issue I tore through on the bike this morning was just as motivational, but for a different reason. It was all about getting back on the wagon. For Oprah, this meant curbing her recent weight gain, which she details in the magazine. But the underlying theme of forgetting about perfection, letting go of past mistakes and looking toward the future can apply to anyone struggling with any goal. I'm going to try to keep it in mind next time I slack off during a speed workout, skip a cross-training day or choose the chocolate cake rather than the strawberries for dessert.

Mixing things up on the treadmill

It was back to the treadmill for another speed workout today. "Speed workout" has become synonymous with "set of three 1-mile repeats" for me, and that's just what I did this morning.

I like the simplicity of doing one thing, three times, then being done. I also like the challenge of trying to run a whole mile as quickly as possible three times in a row (who can't run their fastest for a quarter-mile? It's over before you even get a chance to crank up the speed on the treadmill's control panel). I also like it because it's familiar. My training plan offers lots of interesting-looking options for speedwork, and I'm sure they're as much fun and as effective as my current go-to workout. But it's like trying something new at your favorite restaurant: The buffalo chicken sandwich is probably just as good as the veggie burger I order every time we go to the Quarry House, but WHAT IF IT'S NOT?

I'm still planning to order the veggie burger at Quarry House tonight. But next time I hit the treadmill, I'm gonna mix things up. I found a few good-looking treadmill speed workouts in Runner's World, and I think I'll try this one first:

The Broderick Crawford.

This workout gets its name from its "10-4" pattern, a familiar phrase to fans of the old Highway Patrol TV series. Begin by warming up for 10 minutes, then run for 10 minutes at your current 10-K race pace. Jog very easily for 4 minutes to recover, then surge again for 10 minutes at your 10-K tempo. Recover for 4 minutes, and complete the workout with 10 minutes of easy cool-down running.

First DC race day!

I started the day today with a musket shot from George Washington.

OK, it was more like a pop gun shot by a dude in a Revolutionary War costume, but it was a memorable way to start the morning -- and my first road race in the Washington area -- nonetheless.

The George Washington Classic 10K was a nice, flat route along Eisenhower Avenue and through a few local parks in Alexandria. We had perfect running weather, about 40 degrees and sunny, and got cool fleece running hats for our efforts, making the race worth the time before we even started.

All week, I've been puzzling over the right way to race a 10K. I'm typically about an 8:30-minute-mile girl for a 10K. But since Steve and I started doing group runs with Pacers, we've realized that this is also our pace for our everyday five-mile runs — hard, but conversational. Which suggests that perhaps my 10K pace should be faster.

I figured the solution was to pick up the pace a bit in this 10K.

Here's how it went down:
Ran the first mile in 7:30 (oops!)
Ran my best 5K time since high school, 24 minutes (ooh!)
Felt like I'd been hit by a truck by mile 5, and was passed by what looked like the majority of my age group, plus most of the master's age groups, too (ugh)
Still ran a better time than my usual, 51:31 according to my purple Timex. That's 8:18-minute-miles, which is ... faster than 8:30?

Not sure where this leaves me as far as my race strategy, or lack thereof. Does anyone know the right way to race a 10K? If so, please enlighten me by posting a comment.

***Editor's note: Shortly after writing this post, I looked up the race results and found this note on top:
"Today's event was measured at 6.4 miles. We sincerely apologize for the course error; pace has been calculated at 6.4 miles. -GW Birthday Classic Race Committee."
Oh, snap! My new pace? 8:07-minute miles! I also feel the need to give Steve a shout-out for running a 47:58, which meant he was doing super-human 7:30-minute miles.

Surviving the ice bath

I had a fabulous 10-mile run yesterday in neighborhoods around Rock Creek Park and Seminary Road in Silver Spring. I felt so good, I actually added extra hill loops at the end, despite being within site of my building (the point at which I usually say, "Screw this," and run home).

How did I reward myself? My dunking myself in a pool of ice-cold water, of course.

The ice bath is one of those bizarre rituals of the long-distance runner that's really hard to understand until you've done a few long runs and experienced the soreness that follows. Since I'm now the queen of injury prevention, the ice bath has become a regular part of my training program.

Physical therapist and ultrarunner Nikki Kimball explains the science behind the ice bath here, and notes that her favorite way to employ it is with "a post-race soak in a cold river or lake with fellow competitors."

Here's how it works in real life: You limp over to a supermarket or gas station immediately following a long run. You buy one or two bags of ice, and possibly a bottle of Advil as a side dish. You ignore the worried and confused states of the checkout clerk and others around you. You proceed home, dump the ice in your bathtub, fill the tub enough cold water to cover your legs, and ... get in.

Kimball recommends coping this way: "I put on a down jacket and a hat and neoprene booties, make myself a cup of hot tea, and collect some entertaining reading material to help the next 15 to 20 minutes pass quickly."

I personally like Deena Kastor's strategy. The Olympic marathoner told Runner's World recently she likes to crank up a Madonna CD and sing along at the top of her lungs until her legs have acclimated (i.e., gone numb). Might be worth a try. If you hear me singing "Like a Prayer" (broken by some whimpers), you'll know what's happening.

A lesson in cross-training (and humility)

Wednesdays are cross-training days, which has come to mean a post-work date at the pool for me and Steve.

This week, our pool is closed for repairs, leaving me scrambling for a quick but efficient way to cross-train.

Steve recently started doing P90X videos with some people at work, so I decided to try my own plyometrics workout at home. Mine involved most of the exercises described here, plus some sets of push ups and regular, non-jumping lunges, broken up by two-minute spurts of running up the stairwell of our apartment building. I only ran into one neighbor on the stairs, making this not nearly as humiliating a venture as it could have been.

Here's what was humiliating about this workout: I started out scoffing at the 6-inch cone suggested for use with jumps. Clearly, I thought, I could jump higher than 6 inches. Where's the challenge here? I found a 5-inch tall tissue box and got to work. Roughly 30 seconds into the workout, I nearly fell flat on my face during the front-to-back jumps, completely crushing the tissue box in the process.

Here's what was great about this workout: Keeping your heart rate up so high makes it really, truly possible to fit in a killer workout in 30 minutes, a claim I'm always skeptical about when I see it on workout videos and the like. I was literally dizzy at some points. I would definitely recommend this workout for days when you truly don't have time for a workout, but want to do one anyway. A word of caution: Those nursing running injuries may want to proceed with caution, as my hip is feeling awfully creaky today.

I have a 10-mile run today, followed by an off day on Friday and a 10K in Alexandria on Saturday morning. I'm hoping to see some awesome Valentine's Day costumes to make me forget about the blistering cold forecast for race day.

Conquering the hills

I grew up on top of a steep hill in a town called Highlands, N.J., named for the hills that rose sharply above the water. I then moved to Colorado, where I literally ran up mountains for fun.

Then, I moved to Florida, and my thigh muscles promptly forgot they'd ever seen a hill. I only lived in the Sunshine State for four years, but those four years effectively wiped out a lifetime of hill training, which was made all too clear during my first serious hill workout here. It was one of our first Pacers group runs, and we had a great time chatting with our fellow runners; until the hills rendered us physically unable to do anything but wheeze and spit. Running that route was like trying on your skinny jeans after the holidays -- a painful confirmation of the fact that you've got some work to do.

So I greeted the news that we were running the same route again last night with trepidation.

I was Steve-less again, but this time, when the store manager asked for runners in the 8:30- 9-minute mile range, I found a healthy group in the same range as me. The group stayed together pretty much the whole route, which turns out to not be so bad after all. It's a really gorgeous, if hilly, run through some of Silver Spring's prettiest neighborhoods. We finished what mapmyrun.com counts as a 5.4 miler in 45 minutes. I'm never sure how much faith to put in mapmyrun's distances. But whatever our pace was, it felt great — one of those nights where the route seems almost unfairly fast.

"Great run," said one member of the group as we skidded to a stop back at the store. She sounded as surprised as I was.

Looking to improve your hills? Try these common-sense hill workouts from Runner's World columnist Ed Eyestone.

The beauty of the long run

When I set out to do my first half-marathon a couple years ago, I was surprised to see how similar the beginner training schedule was to my happy-go-lucky, goal-less running log. For the most part, it consisted of runs in the 3-ish mile range, with a couple days of speedwork thrown in.

The exception was the long run, that once-weekly push to make your body go longer than it's gone before to trick it into thinking it can go the distance on race day. At the time, each week's long run was a mile longer than I'd ever run before — first eight, then nine, then the astonishing 10 miles. I honored each one as an event rather than just a workout, taking hours to plan routes, print maps and write out directions (necessary steps, given my propensity for lost-ness).

I've since done training runs twice that long, and have gotten to the point that even a 10-mile run, the longest my half-marathon training schedule calls for, is something I can squeeze in before breakfast. But I still honor the long run as the most important part of training for any distance race. In my opinion, they're sort of the whole reason training for a distance event is special (how many 3-mile loops around your neighborhood have you described as life-changing?).

This past weekend, I cobbled together a long run from two separate Pacers routes, the Alaska loop and the out-and-back to East West Highway, and added a mile or so on 16th Street. I set out first thing on Saturday morning, and felt energized and strong from the start. I have no idea what pace I was running. I only know that I finished what I thought would be a 10-mile loop about 20 minutes faster than I expected to. It was a welcome surprise, given that my last 8-miler made me want to suit this sport and take up bowling, or maybe chess.

I have yet to encounter a runner who's trained for a marathon who hasn't had some sort of memorable encounter on a long run. One friend got a ride home from a fire truck when her long run got rained out. Another found got directions and a free Gatorade from a gas station convenience store. Yet another accidentally dropped in on a road race, and enjoyed water stops and cheering crowds for a few of his 20 miles.

I had my first such encounter of this training cycle on this week's run, when I felt a sudden and urgent need for a restroom at about the farthest point from home I could be. I hadn't planned on a detour for this purpose, so I took my chances at a large, modern-looking church in an otherwise residential neighborhood. The doors were locked. Blast! I had almost walked away when a member of the leaning crew opened the door to let me in. I would have hugged her if I wasn't in such a rush to get to the ladies' room. It was just a small encounter, but the sort of thing that makes the long run feel less like a workout and more like a journey.

Have a good long-run story? Share it by posting a comment below.

Slow legs, cool route

Lake Needwood saved my run today.

My legs were pretty much out of juice from a weekend that included a long run (a max of 10 miles for half-marathon-training purposes, but still) and lots of mogul skiing, so I knew I'd need something scenic to take my mind of being tired. A part-dirt, part-gravel trail around Lake Needwood, a 75-acre lake in the middle of Rock Creek Regional Park in Rockville, totally delivered.

The 7-mile trail around the lake, which was peaceful today in its near-frozen state, connects to the Rock Creek Hiker Biker Trail, so lots of runners use it as an extension of long runs. But the shorter section I did today proved you don't have to stray from the lake to get a great workout.

Here's the thing that truly saved me from napping instead of running today: It's not only a pretty route, but a variable one. Some sections hug the lakeshore. Others climb through the woods above the lake, providing great aerial views. And if you need more variety or more distance, you can always hit up a section of Rock Creek Hiker Biker Trail.

Stay tuned for more about the excellent 10-miler I ran over the weekend ...

The power of flexibility

I am circus-freak flexible.

Like, put-one-leg-behind-my-head flexible.

It's one of those weird genetic quirks that always astounds new workout partners and crowds at races (no matter how clandestine I try to be while stretching before a race, inevitably, there's the dude who approaches to say: "That looks like it hurts.").

Problem is, the Gumby-ness in my muscles doesn't translate to my psyche. I am a maker of lists and a keeper of plans, so when something sidelines my workout, like the killer migraine that set in last night and kept me in bed with the curtains closed all day today, I don't deal well.

The migraine, which was truly the worst I've had in years, sent me to bed rather than on my fun run tonight and long run this morning. In normal circumstances, napping is a physical impossibility for me. In a testament to just how crappy I felt, I have slept 24 hours off and on since about 9:30 last night. I just recently emerged feeling a little better, but terribly guilty.

I flipped open my most recent issue of Runner's World to a great story I wish I could link to called "Never Get Hurt." In addition to an awesome preventative workout, it included tips for avoiding injury. My eyes scanned to this blurb first:

"Many runners become so compulsive about training that they refuse to miss a day regardless of the circumstances, says Michael Sachs, professor of kinesiology at Temple University. It becomes a matter of control, he says — who is in control, you or the running?"

Um. Me? OK, fine, maybe it's not a good idea to attempt even a quickie speed workout on the treadmill when I'm still a little dizzy from migraine meds (even though this is my second day off in a row -- gaaah!). There's always tomorrow, right? For today, I decided to do some yoga instead to exercise my mental AND physical flexibility.

P.S. - Why is it that on the days I do have long runs, all I want is to have a day off?

A partner in crime, part trois

A few words about my favorite training partner:

It has been almost a decade since we've actually physically run together, but she's one of my biggest supporters and motivators.

We ran cross-country together in high school for a team so small, we barely qualified for competition. Somehow, despite this fact, we didn't always lose.

I can't remember a race we didn't finish together. I also can't remember having to wait up for her, or having to pick up the pace to keep up.

We were true middle-of-the-packers. In one divisional race, we were handed popsicle sticks denoting our place finish among hundreds of other runners. The numbers on our two sticks were literally the number of people in the race divided by two.

After dozens of hill workouts together, we can communicate solely by spitting and grunting. We try to limit that to while we're running.

We rewarded our long runs (anything longer than 3 miles at that point) with Hey Daddy bagels, perhaps the best thing to come out of New Jersey besides the Boss (and, of course, us).

We reward long runs with glasses of wine now. We haven't lived in the same place for a decade. But we still call to congratulate each other after a race. In fact, my marathon finish didn't feel real until I talked to Jen on the phone afterwards while soaking in the longest ice bath known to man. It's a testament to our friendship and her conversational skills that the 30-minute ice bath flew by.

I peer-pressured her into running a half marathon around the same time I ran that marathon. She had a great finish, but I think I speak for both of us in saying the finish of either race was far from the best part. It was the way we'd call each other at random times throughout the day to talk about training: our aches and pains, our preference in long-run fuel and the best kind of recovery drink (we like chocolate milk). These topics inevitably led to longer talks about husbands and jobs and life and stuff.

Jen came to visit last weekend with the third member of our trio, Alexis, who didn't run with us but is an avid cheerleader and supporter in running and in life. Jen and I didn't get a chance to run together. But we did set a date.

We're going to do the Broad Street Run in Philadelphia on May 3. With almost 20,000 runners, it bills itself as the largest 10-miler in the United States. I imagine Jen and I will finish right around 10,000. I'm sure we'll be side by side.

Wanna read more about gal pals on the run? Check out this cool Runner's World story.

Motivating me today: Any song by Los Campesinos! (thanks, Jeff!), and "Mudhouse" by Bob Schneider (thanks, Jim!).

All by myself

Pushing yourself out of your comfort zone almost always pays off. Last night, my first solo Pacers run provided a great reminder of that.

Bi-weekly runs with our local running store have become staples of mine and Steve's running lives. The "fun runs" take us from Pacers Silver Spring to points throughout SS and DC on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

Problem is, Steve started grad school last week. His classes are on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, meaning I'm on my own for Pacers.

I made like Celine Dion last night and went all by myself, with some slight reservations. It's not a social-anxiety thing; I'll yammer away to strangers all day long. It's more of a performance-anxiety thing. See, with Steve by my side, I feel perfectly comfortable heading out with the faster pace groups, knowing that if I fall behind, I can drag Steve down with me. He's also contractually obligated to make sure I don't get lost (this wasn't in our vows per se, but it was an implicit agreement he's lived up to beautifully so far).

Last night, we were doing our familiar 5.2-mile Alaska route, which eased my worries a bit. We broke up into pace groups. First, the 7:30s left, then the 8s.

"8:30?" said the store manager, with a glance in my direction. I shrugged and nodded, then looked around, feeling very much like I was waiting to get picked up for a relay team in gym class. No takers. A few kind souls opted in for 9-minute miles, and we headed out.

As usual, I was worried about nothing. I had a great time yammering away with a store employee who's a student at American University, and who, I learned toward the end of the run, is training for the Boston Marathon. She qualified with a time of 3:30. I, on the other hand, figured out recently that for my marathon time to qualify me for Boston, I'd have to be 75 years old.

But it was a great run, and while I no doubt slowed down my faster, younger running companion, I also got an ego boost when I told her my goal of finishing the half marathon in less than two hours again.

"With the pace we're doing right now, that should be no problem for you," she said. I'm choosing to believe her.

In other news, I found my next race. It's the George Washington Classic 10K in Alexandria on Valentine's Day. If that doesn't sound appealing, check out the nearby Chocolate Mile on Feb. 8. It's pretty self-explanatory: You run a mile, you get the chocolate. Sweet!

The magic playlist

My post last week started a really wonderful conversation about running playlists. After getting some truly excellent suggestions for songs to add to my tired old rotation (Walking on Sunshine by Katrina & the Waves and Miami by Will Smith will warm you up faster than a killer hill workout), I thought it was only fair to share the playlist that's rocking my running world right now. I'm still hunting for new songs to freshen up my February running mix. Got more ideas? Please, please, please share 'em below!

You Can Do it - Ice Cube
Unwritten - Natasha Beddingfield
The Watcher - Dr. Dre
Til I Collapse - Eminem
What’s the Difference - Dr. Dre
Kick in the Door - The Notorious B.I.G.
Two Step, Live at Red Rocks - Dave Matthews Band
Halleluja - Jeff Buckley
How It Ends - DeVotchka
Fight the Power - Public Enemy
Fugeela - The Fugees
City of Blinding Lights - U2
Run On - Moby
Survivor - Destiny's Child
Scenario - Tribe Called Quest
M-E-T-H-O-D Man - Wu Tang Clan
Moving to New York - The Wombats

Also check out the Run, Fat Boy, Run soundtrack, which includes a song by the Fratellis that's perfect to start a race to. Stay tuned for a post about why this movie pumped me up more than Prefontaine ever could.

Braving the cold front (without even meaning to)

My fingers are still numb as I type this. I got back from running two hours ago.

I'd read the weather reports warning that the Groundhog Day warmth that let me bike in shorts and a T-shirt yesterday would give way to February chill by this evening. So I made sure to go running on my lunch break today to take advantage of the early spring weather. I delighted in the fact that the weather let me wear my favorite running digs, a cheap pink Dri-Fit shirt I wore during my marathon and some Brooks running shorts I'm convinced make my butt look smaller. It was so pleasant when I first headed out, I almost laughed out loud.

Once I hit the turnaround point of the 5-mile run, it was the drivers, pedestrians and other passersby who were laughing. They had good reason to. Within minutes, the weather had gone from 60 and sunny to 40 and, as the National Weather Service would put it, "blustery." No joke: The cold front came through ON MY RUN. And it literally happened at my turnaround point. On my way out, it was all sunshine and light. Once I turned around, though, I could see the dark, nasty storm clouds that had been steadily rolling in behind me.

Worse yet, running home, I was heading into the wind, which I can only guess was coming from the north. As in, like, the Arctic Circle.

It wasn't just the discomfort, but the humiliation factor that made the rest of the run painful. It's one thing to show off your pasty legs on the first day of spring, when everyone else is lookin' a fool along with you. Today, it was me and my pink short-sleeved shirt against the (appropriately dressed) world. Really, you can't blame the passersby for laughing.

The sole bright spot: I tried some of the new songs suggested by blog readers. Miami by Will Smith and Walking on Sunshine both made me think of sunnier climes (thanks for the suggestions, Lex and Courtney!).

When I got back home, my fingers were so freezing, I could barely open the mailbox. But when I finally managed to wrangle it open, lo and behold, I'd gotten my newest issue of Runner's World, as if the running gods were throwing me a big, glossy bone.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to enjoy my magazine with a big cup of tea.

Honor thy off day

Today is my off day.

Given the fact that my long run kicked my butt across town yesterday, you'd think I'd be overjoyed about this. But I'm a runner, so time off fills me with a strange mix of guilt, impatience and anxiety rather than relief.

At regular intervals throughout the day, I found myself plotting quick running getaways: During lunch? After my 3 p.m. phone interview?

I repeated to myself the advice of Jacksonville, Fla., running coach Keith Brantly, a 1996 Olympian marathoner and former University of Florida cross country runner who I spoke with about training plans for Gainesville's Five Points of Life Marathon: "Repeat after me: Rest is training, rest is training." Check out more of Brantly's very good advice about resting and tapering here.

Also check out Rest Easy, a Runner's World story about the benefits of taking at least one day off – no squats, no push-ups, no nothing — each week.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch bad movies and fall asleep. Let's hope my eagerness to run continues into tomorrow morning, when it's time to hit the road again.

Tough love from Bono on a tough run

All week, I've planned to squeeze in my long run during my lunch break today. All week, I've been excited about exploring Montgomery County further by trying a new route.

The piles of slush on every street corner thanks to this week's snow storm, coupled with a major work deadline that's been looming, left me thinking today wasn't the best day to make this happen. I idly wished I could find a new route that left from my front door and that promised a reprieve from the patches of ice, and started thinking about running later this week, instead.

Then, I got an e-mail from the leader of our running group at Pacers, outlining tonight's route, which she said "seems to be salted and well-lit." It goes right by my front door. We'll miss the group run tonight because of a scheduling conflict, but that left me pretty much out of excuses for lunchtime. I left around noon to tackle the 5.1-mile out-and-back course twice.

Let's just say that this wasn't my finest long run. The route was unbelievably slush-free, but that didn't stop my shoes from soaking through after the first mile. And I realized mid-run that I'm in desperate need of some new tunes. There are some serious hills on this route, and as I cycled through my iPod looking for a good pump-up song, I felt like I was looking through my closet before a night out: Tons of choices, but somehow, nothing that quite fits my needs.

Whatever the reason, the tunes or my shoes, I ran around Silver Spring ... OK, I'll leave the Whos out of this. I was just tired today, no two ways about it. My ankle, which I twisted a month ago running in Rock Creek Park, throbbed. The hills just about killed my lungs and thighs — I actually stopped to catch my breath on two of them. And I just felt fatigued in a way that made me want to talk back to the singers on my iPod (To Ice Cube: Life is neither a track meet nor a marathon, but a stupid hill loop I don't want to finish. To Eminem: Maybe YOU can go 'til you collapse, but I need to stretch.)

But in running, as in life, sometimes you get a break just when you really need one. The route goes right by Rock Creek Park, and after staring straight at the ground for five minutes or so while shuffling up one particularly taxing hill, I looked up to find myself on top, with a wide swath of snowy woods beside me. At the same time, U2's "Beautiful Day" came on my iPod. It's one thing to talk back to Eminem and Ice Cube. But Bono? I quit my whining, did the route twice despite going right by my house at the halfway point, and remembered that it was, in fact, a beautiful (if slushy) day.

Anyone have tunes to suggest? I'd be forever indebted if you'd post suggestions below.

Learning that less is more

I've long appreciated that the three-day-a-week training plan by the Furman Institute of Running and Scientific Training I'm following to train for the half marathon in March will prevent me from injuring myself while training for the half marathon in March. Until today, I didn't really appreciate that the plan prevents me from burnout, too.

I take an all-or-nothing mentality in training and in life — once I've committed myself to some task, I'm in 100 percent. This is great, until it's not. I'm the type of person who plays a new song on repeat til it makes me want to scream, eat a new recipe meal after meal until I can no longer stomach any of the ingredients and run as many miles as my body can take. Note to self: Just because there's a plan that says I should run 50 to 60 miles a week leading up to a marathon doesn't mean that's what I NEED to do to train effectively.

Having a plan that limits me to three running days, with intensive cross-training the other days, gives me built-in motivation to kick butt on my running days, and leaves me excited to run again when I'm cross-training. If I'd been following a traditional training plan, I'd be a little bit dreading my run today after what felt like a super-human effort in my treadmill speed workout yesterday.

Instead, I had an awesome swim with Steve today, and I'm already looking forward to running tomorrow.

Running some errands

I woke up this morning with conflicting desires: to run outside in the falling snow and to accomplish a long to-do list of quick little errands.

To satisfy both needs, I employed one of my favorite strategies: I literally ran errands.

I grabbed my backpack and set out to mail a package, return a movie to Blockbuster, pick up pizza dough for tomorrow's dinner from Whole Foods and grab some other groceries from Giant. Seeing everyone bundled up and smiling at the first real accumulation of the year put me in a great mood, and I burned through my first two stops.

It was nearly lunchtime when I hit Whole Foods. Even when I'm not hungry, this store is a black hole of temptation for me. I could spend hours -- and entire paychecks -- shopping for yummy little dips and fresh, tastefully arranged produce. Today's stop was especially dangerous, as I was tempted to use my run to justify impulse purchases ("But I deserve the roasted chipotle salsa! I ran here!"). I'm proud to report that I left with nothing more than pizza dough and some frozen vegetables to try a recipe posted by my friend Chris on his foodie blog, where you can find all sorts of yummy, healthy post-run treats.

I clocked a total of 25 minutes running -- OK, plodding -- through the snow while erranding, which was a little less than I'd hoped for. I decided to squeeze in my speed workout for the week on the treadmill when I got back.

I'm delighted to report that I actually walked away from the prospect of spiced Indian-style vegetables and went downstairs to the little gym instead, knocking out three 1-mile repeats at somewhere between 7 and 7:30-minute mile pace. It just about killed me (both the pace and the restraint in holding off on lunch), but man! Did those veggies ever taste good after a hard workout! Check out the recipe here.

Think snow ... and agility workouts

If you read this blog regularly, you're familiar with my efforts to cross-train to avoid overtraining injuries from running. During the week, this mostly means swimming and some cycling on the stationary bike.

Every other weekend, Steve and I partake in an activity that blows biking and swimming out of the water.

We volunteer at Whitetail Mountain Resort as Mountain Safety Team members, which we've determined to be the best deal in the history of deals. We help open and close the mountain, offer assistance to people who fall or otherwise need help and do what we can to make ski patrollers' jobs easier. We also investigate and document crashes for the resort.

But, as our fellow safety teamer, Dave, put it when we first started: "Mostly, we just sort of ski around." In exchange, we get a season pass, making this the best job either Steve or I have ever had.

This weekend, we had a surprise from an old friend: moguls, which hadn't made an appearance at Whitetail two weeks ago but are now out in force on Exhibition, an expert run right under the lift (hence the name).

Like anything that kicks my ass, I love moguls and I hate them. It's a Tina-Ike relationship in which I'm always, always Tina. For a run or two, the bumps will be so sweet, lulling me into complacency with an easy line or forgiving snow. Then, the temperature will drop, causing the snow to harden, or I'll ski down a different portion of the run, and bam! I'm getting beat up again.

Suffice it to say that at the end of the day today, watching me ski the bumps was less like watching someone ski and more like watching someone try to ride a mechanical bull at a bar while very, very drunk. I didn't so much stumble as I got bucked off.

But I've resolved to get back on the bull. My plan is to work on my agility. My quads are plenty strong, but my legs don't move so quickly or smoothly.

I haven't found a good ski-specific agility workout, but I'll post it here as soon as I do. In the meantime, any suggestions? Post 'em below if so.

Floridiots on the run

Anyone who's run road races on a regular basis and seen the same names weekend after weekend knows the running community is very small indeed.

Tonight, I was struck by just what a small world it is while running with a few new friends at Pacers.

Steve and I headed out in our own pace group (regular blog readers will know that this might be for the best), but ended up running with a nice dude named Pete who claimed to be just as bad at pacing as we are and a girl who wore headphones. I chatted with Pete for a while before realizing we'd both recently moved back to the area. He'd spent time in Colorado (so did we!), and in Florida (no ... freaking ... way!), so we spent a good portion of the run touting the benefits of living in a cultural mecca that has seasons after a few years in the tropics. We talked about how nice it is to be living in what feels like the center of the world these days, and about how crappy it is readjusting to winter weather (though it was a downright balmy 40-odd degrees today ... how quickly we Floridiots forget what real winter weather is like!).

Our headphoned friend got into the conversation near the end of the run. She was relatively new to Pacers, she said, and just moved back to the area.

"Where from?" Pete asked.

"Fort Myers," she said. "How about you?"

A small world indeed.

Getting over my fear of commitment

I've got serious commitment issues.

I choose which races I'll run months ahead of time, circling race ads in the back of Runner's World like a normal woman might earmark wish-list items from a J. Crew catalog. I print out training schedules and follow them to the letter. This time, I'm even blogging about my training for the National Half Marathon on March 21.

The one thing I don't do: actually sign up for the race.

This is a thing with me. Unless I have reason to fear that the race will fill up quickly, I postpone, and postpone, and postpone, often waiting until race day to officially throw my hat in the ring. Sometimes, I even wait so long I miss the race entirely, which happened with the Philadelphia Half Marathon in November. This was especially rough, as I'd done most of my long runs for the race by the time I realized registration had closed.

I tell myself waiting to sign up is a smart move to avoid losing a bunch of money on a race that I may injure myself before, or that I may ... you know ... be unable to run for some other reason. I know it's actually more of a stupid defense mechanism to avoid committing myself wholly to a race.

Not this time. I'm proud to announce that I've finally signed up for the race I've been publicly training for and blogging about for weeks.

This is a big step for me. Maybe it's just because I'm usually too tired to sprint at the end of a race, but I like to think of the simple act of committing myself to a race as gutsy, if we're using George Sheehan's definition: "Some think guts is sprinting at the end of a race. But guts is what got you there to begin with. Guts start in the back hills with six miles to go and you're thinking of how you can get out of this race without anyone noticing."

Looking for motivation? Read about Sheehan, a cardiologist, runner and writer from my home county in New Jersey.

Yes we can run to the inauguration!

For weeks, Washington officials have warned residents that roads and bridges into the city would be closed and Metro trains and buses would be packed. They said those wanting to travel into the city to see Barack Obama sworn in as the 44th president of the United States should be prepared for gridlock, long security lines and a lot of hassle.

But we only live about seven miles from the Capitol, giving us no excuse not to find SOME way to get downtown.

Our preferred mode of transportation? Running, of course.

We met our group from Pacers, which usually gathers at 7 p.m. for a Tuesday night run, at 10 a.m. in Silver Spring for the 7.1-run to the Capitol. Inaugural excitement was palpable before our group of ten even left Silver Spring. Throngs of people wearing Obama buttons, hats and T-shirts filed into the Silver Spring Metro station. American flags fluttered from front porches. On Georgia Avenue, we saw a dude dressed like Uncle Sam.

The fun continued after we crossed the Maryland-D.C. line on 16th Street. Inaugural banners hung from homes and businesses (including the puzzling "Labradoodles for Obama." Really?). We started to see others walking and biking into the city, and we exchanged waves. We ran up and down some rolling hills on 16th Street, yapping as usual about work, the weather and similarly momentous topics.

Suddenly, it seemed, we were at K Street, and the real fun began. Streets were closed to all vehicles but buses and taxis. Armed guards in camouflage uniforms guarded street corners, and armed military vehicles rolled by from time to time. Streetside vendors hawked all manner of Obama souveniers, from hats to framed photos.

Thousands of people flooded toward the Capitol, where security lines were exactly as long as predicted. We saw mothers pushing babies in carriages covered in fleece blankets (Washington saw a high of 30 degrees today). We saw members of a local church offering freezing visitors free hot coffee, and a spot indoors to warm up and watch the ceremonies. We saw a high-school marching band in bright blue jogging suits carrying signs that said "HOPE FOR PEACE."

Our goal in running to the Capitol wasn't to see the speech firsthand, or even to get close to it. With 1 to 3 million people expected to crowd the Mall, we had no expectation of being front-and-center. We were like tailgaters without tickets to the game, who set up shop outside a college football stadium to soak in the cheers, the team colors and the festive atmosphere. We wanted to be part of the community of runners trekking downtown, of Washington residents celebrating their city, of Americans celebrating their new president -- and their country.

Our running group broke up when we got to the security checkpoints near the White House. Some stayed to try to get closer, while Steve and I headed home on the Metro to watch the ceremonies on TV back home. As the train zoomed by, we saw familiar buildings adorned with new graffiti -- images of the new president's face.

How did you celebrate the inauguration? Let me know by posting a comment below.

Bad medicine

I should have done lunges today.

I wasn't lazy -- I did the stationary bike for 45 minutes at an intensity I usually save for intervals. But somehow, I couldn't make myself do any kind of strength work. This is despite knowing, after three months of physical therapy, how good -- no, essential -- strength training is for runners.

I'm possibly one of the only people on earth to have a solely positive experience with physical therapy. Each appointment with Jason, who patiently solved the weird mystery of why I couldn't run, was like a session with a personal trainer who just happened to be certified to mess around with my hip joint to put it back in its proper place. And at the end of the three months, I could run again -- bonus!

At the end of my stint with Jason, I asked him which of the exercises in my routine I could drop if I got lazy.

"Um," he said, "they're all pretty basic. I would pretty much make sure you do them all."

A year later, I still faithfully perform the fun ones (shuffling around with a resistance band makes me feel like a linebacker) and the awful ones (leg lifts are the bane of my existence) a few times a week. I'd rather be running, but along with cross-training, this is the preventative medicine that KEEPS me running.

I'll get my butt into gear later this week on the lunges, leg presses, etc., and knock out a set of the dreaded leg-lifts tonight. In the meantime, I'll share my physical therapy workout here. It's a great preventative measure for uninjured runners, as the single-leg business doesn't allow you to rely on your stronger leg (yes, you have one) to get through the reps.

3 X 25 walking lunges
3 X 25 single-leg presses
3X 25 single-leg squats
Hamstring curls
Side shuffle with resistance band
Leg lifts with weights (I do these on each side, on my stomach and on my back. Here's a how-to for the side-lying lifts.)
Clamshells (shown here, along with lots of other interesting-looking running-specific exercises)

Best laid plans turn to ice

I had hoped to run six miles on Sligo Creek Trail today, and to write here about how invigorating it was to run in the cold.

I'm happy to report that I did, at least, run. None of the other plans worked out quite so well.

According to the National Weather Service, whose Web site has been a regular haunt of mine since it's been so frigid here, said it got to 37 degrees in Silver Spring today.

My response: Say WHAT?

I offer this hard evidence that it was not anywhere near 37 degrees: at 11 a.m., when I blew my nose on my glove, it froze in the air, leaving me with a horrible littlesnotsickle on my finger. This was about the point at which I first thought about cutting the run short.

Then, there was the matter of the orange fence between Wheaton Regional Park and Sligo Creek Trail, my intended destination. I've run parts of Sligo Creek Trail before, but I'd never started from Wheaton Regional Park. I tried to pick up the trail from the park this time, but instead, ended up running around the park again and again, thwarted by a fence marking some sort of trail construction. Rather than a simple out-and-back run, I ended up on a weird hill loop through a bunch of botanical gardens.

The good news: The park is really cool! The rolling hills and placid (OK, icy) ponds in the botanical gardens were pretty enough to run by three or four times. And the playground made me want to quit the whole running thing and just zoom down one of the biggest, baddest slides I've ever seen. It also provided some spectacular people-watching, from the guy on a unicycle on my way in to the family of little girls in pink coats playing tag through the gardens.

I'll definitely be back to Sligo Creek Trail for a long run when the weather's warmer. If Wheaton Regional Park doesn't provide enough entertainment, the trail apparently winds through a total of nine parks in Montgomery County.

Hustle and flow

I had planned to try a new running route today, and was so excited about hitting the road, I actually laid out both my route and my toastiest running clothes the night before.

A combination of looming work deadlines and hearing that this morning was the coldest in the past five years in Washington left me indoors for a quick, warm treadmill workout instead.

I've already moaned and groaned about how I don't like working out inside, so I'll move right on to coping mechanisms. I get past the boredom of treadmill time by doing speedwork. My typical workout is three 1-mile repeats at 8-minute mile pace. I usually get through this with a kick-butt playlist of six or seven songs (the best thing about a speed workout, in my mind, is the fact that it's over pretty quickly).

The get-through-it nature of treadmilling makes it a perfect place to try to get into that elusive happy place known as flow. Endurance athlete Christopher Bergland, author of "The Athlete's Way: Sweat and the Biology of Bliss," says this is "a key to making exercise a pleasurable experience, because it allows you to lose yourself in the moment--time flies, and you are totally engaged." Some call it meditation in motion. Former Washington Post writer Walt Harrington writes beautifully about finding flow while hunting with his father-in-law in The Everlasting Stream. And today, on a treadmill that may or may not have been properly calibrated, I found it, too.

This is no easy task for me. My brain is, as Elizabeth Gilbert would put it, a "big, spazzy free-for-all," where thoughts swing from tree to tree like so many monkeys. More often than not, it operates like a never-ending to-do list, always leaping to the next task
before I'm done with my current one.

So I started running to my typical gangsta-rap playlist. But after one Wutang Clan song, I moved on to a more meditative mix. I was sweating like a pig and panting like a dog, but inside, I was chill as I burned through three miles at 7:30-minute mile pace. I felt so good, I even turned it into a tempo run, nixing the jogs in between mile repeats (usually, when the mile is up, I all but punch the "stop" button on the treadmill to get a breather).

I can't say for sure that the treadmill wasn't calibrated incorrectly, like a pair of size-4 jeans you know should really be a size 6. I don't care -- for 21 minutes of the day, I was completely present and grounded, which is more difficult for me than any 7:30-minute mile.

Here's the playlist that helped me find my flow. I especially recommend the last one on the list -- let it wash over you while you're running fast, and see if you don't find energy you didn't know you had.

Wutang Clan, Protect Your Neck
Dear Sergio, Catch 22
Two Step, Dave Matthews Band, Live at Red Rocks
Halleluja, Jeff Buckley
Moving to New York, The Wombats
How it Ends, DeVotchka

Baby, it's cold outside

I have a love-hate relationship with the gym.

It's not working out I dislike. It's the cardio machines. They represent the opposite of one of my favorite things about running, summed up by this Jesse Owens quote: "I always loved running. It was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs.”

Today, the "blustery" 20-degree weather forecasted earlier this week came to pass (blustery is actually a pretty great adjective to describe today -- nice job, National Weather Service!). After losing the feeling in my fingers during a short bike ride to do some errands, I was driven inside, to the stationary bike in the little fake gym inside our building.

I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that working out on an electrical machine is basically the opposite of exercising by yourself, under your own power. It isn't seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and courage of your lungs so much as burying your nose in a book to forget the fact that you are, in fact, going nowhere on a piece of electrical machinery. UGH.

But here's the positive part of this blog post (I promise there is one!): I did 45 minutes on the bike, and while I didn't get quite the warm fuzzies I do after a good run, I felt doubly proud of myself for doing something healthy when I desperately didn't feel like it. As I got warmed up, I reminded myself that biking today would a) save my joints and muscles from two days of pounding in a row, b) strengthen muscles running doesn't, and c) make some bike ride down the road easier because I trained today. It also let me finish one book I've been working on for a while and start another that will probably end up being the subject of another blog post on another day. It's "In Defense of Food" by Michael Pollan. The theme: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." Brilliant advice for us runners, who are easily wooed by Gatorade G2 and Power Gels (not that I'm giving these up during long runs ... I'm just saying.)

Here's how I powered through a stationary bike workout I didn't wanna do: I did a 45-minute interval workout based on a playlist that alternated Bob Marley songs with hip-hop party anthems. During the Bob Marley songs, I turned the resistance on the bike down to 12 and read my book(s). During the fast songs, I put the book down and cranked the resistance to 14. Despite all the bitching about not wanting to bike inside, I was honestly surprised so much time had passed when I checked the bike's digital readout.

Tomorrow's a swimming day,which I'm looking forward to immensely. Another thing I'm looking forward to immensely: Warmer weather!

Pacing (or failing to pace) with Pacers

As promised yesterday, last night's workout was a 5.1-miler with our running group at Pacers, the super-cool running store near our house. Typically, the party gets started around 7 p.m. by a store employee breaking people up into pace groups. The 6-to-7-minute milers head out the door, then the 8-minute milers, then the 9-minute milers, and so on, with several intervals in between.

Week after week, we watch runners of all speeds declare a pace, then proceed to run exactly that pace. To me, it's like watching people correctly predict tomorrow's lottery numbers.

See, I can't pace correctly for my life. My husband and current running buddy, Steve, isn't much better. We're great at "pacing ourselves" -- i.e., running at a level of difficulty that we can sustain for however long we're planning to run. It's not that we're sprinting out the door and crapping out a mile later. What mystifies us is how people can casually say, "I'm going to do 8:15-minute miles tonight," then proceed to do exactly that. I set time goals for races, but if I'm being honest, when I see the big digital clocks at the mile markers, my time is always kind of a surprise.

When we first started running with Pacers, a store employee asked what pace we typically run. Steve and I were both silent, waiting for the other person to talk. "Somewhere in the 9-ish range," I said. "Nine or, you know, 10-ish." I looked at Steve. "Right?" I said. "Yeah," he said. "Nine-ish, or 8-ish. Or 10-ish. More like 9-ish." It took us a few runs in a row of making people sprint through what they'd hoped would be easy workouts, or slowing down people who were banking on hard workouts, before we found our people. As it turns out, the definition of "our people" is each other, and anyone else willing to put up with our crazy, sporadic asses.We usually end up tailing people a bit faster than us and hanging on for dear life (yet another motivator: Running with someone faster than you, then having to stick with them because you don't know the way home).

We got to Pacers a couple minutes late last night, taking the pace declaration out of the equation. It was a great run, though. We did a new route, and it was pretty fabulous. The goes from Pacers in downtown Silver Spring, down quiet, residential Seminary Road and then past the looming craziness of the National Park Seminary, a complex that includes a Japanese pagoda, an English castle and the remains of a resort hotel. It's being refurbished and turned into apartments and condos. For now, it's a nice, if bizarre, diversion at the halfway point of the run. The run also provides a glimpse of the Mormon Temple, my friend from my Rock Creek Trail adventure last week.

Hopefully, Laura Cloher, who devises the Pacers fun-run routes, won't mind me sharing the Seminary Road route here. Enjoy it -- it's a great run at any pace.

Partners in crime, part deux

According to the National Weather Service, tonight will be 20 degrees and "blustery." I feel silly bitching about this since I spent four years bitching about running in the sticky, swampy heat in Florida (in the summer, it's like trying to breathe through a hot, wet washcloth), but this is NOT my preferred running weather. I have a few resources to help me cope, and I'll share them here.

First, check out an awesome compilation of Runner's World stories and tips for cold weather running here. The stories have all been incredibly helpful. The best tip I've culled so far: Draw a hot bath before you leave for a short run. It provides double motivation: You'll look forward to the hot, steamy bath waiting for you at home, and you'll wanna run quickly to avoid that hot, steamy bath turning lukewarm.

Another tip: Mizuno Breath Thermo gloves, made from some fancy material that actually heats up when you sweat. If you're a sweaty little dude like me, the effect is truly magical. Our friends at Pacers, our local running store, recommended them a month or so ago, and I've been borderline obsessed with them ever since.

Which brings me to my third secret weapon in fighting the cold: Pacers' "fun runs" on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 7 p.m. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I get an e-mail with a brand-new running route in the Silver Spring area. We then meet half a dozen (or more in warmer weather) or so runners at the Pacers in downtown Silver Spring, and head out for a great big group run.

In the past, I've talked myself out of running with partners because I'm afraid I'll either slow down my training buddy or vice versa. This is partially because I'm totally spoiled from running with my best friend, Jen, in high school. We were almost exactly the same pace, which was awesome. More importantly, we had run together for so long, we could communicate solely by grunting and spitting (we try to only do this when we run -- it can really make things awkward at the dinner table). My only real running partner since then has been my husband. He's faster than me, which makes even casual runs kind of like tempo runs for me. The key is, I can make him slow down without guilt or shame on account of the fact of us being married.

Pacers has been great in breaking me of my fear of running with new people. We break up into pace groups ranging from the insane 6-7-ish minute miles all the way to 10-11 minute miles. Steve and I usually fall somewhere in between. We've met some great people doing it, and it takes SO much of the guesswork out of running. Where should I run? When? With whom? These questions are all answered for me. And since it's in the evening, I have something to look forward to all day long.

What's motivating you to get out and train in the cold? Share your tips by posting a comment below.

A partner in crime

In half-marathon-training and in life, it helps to have a partner who shares your goals. It's even more helpful if that partner is more experienced and more ambitious than you are.

For me, that's my friend Whitney, who's training for the National Marathon (note that the "Half" is missing — she's going for the full 26.2). She is both experienced (this is her fifth marathon) and down-to-earth, a rare and awesome combination I'll be counting on frequently throughout my training.

Best of all, you can rely on her expertise and support, too, 'cause she's gonna be blogging, too! I'll be hosting her blog on my Web site. Check back often for progress updates from both of us.