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.