Recovery Run

Today was my recovery run, as my muscles have been complaining non-stop for the past couple of days. It's no wonder really, just a nuisance that after 14.5K they would be upset with me for the exercise.

Instead of laying back and resting, I went for a recovery run. 4.5K along a relatively flat, paved track beside the water. It's beautiful really, but repetitive and can get very boring after the first lap. The scenery never changes, so I only run there when I'm absolutely desperate.

I started out, cold and shivering but stubborn to run. My gloves, I have found, are a huge staple in making a great run. If my hands are cold, then that is all I will think of throughout the run. It becomes tedious and unenjoyable. Thanks for buying them Dad!

I wanted to start out quickly, but not so quickly that I would burn out before the end. I was probably 30 seconds slower than I ran with the group last night. It was a nice brisk pace, pushing the envelope a little but not enough to inflame my lungs. Looking at the calm water beside me, I realized I left my water bottle in the car... and that I had to pee.

I'm a little disappointed with myself. My running is enjoyable, I love it. But I find that I become winded to easily, no matter what pace I go out at. I know it is partially due to my lung infection, but I should be healing by now.

I made it halfway, feeling confident I continued on, completely the second half of the figure eight track.

I stopped quickly, a little fearful. The running track surrounds a dog park, it is fenced in and a good distance from the track, but in the middle of it nonetheless. A medium sized dog barked wildly at the fence, jumping up and down while snarling at something on my side. It seemed to be looking at me. It would jump, put its paws on the fence and come very close to vaulting completely over. I tried to avert my eyes, taking a walking break and continue along. It was acting savagely due to a squirrel on a nearby tree.

I had finished the second half by now, and was approaching my car. Grabbing the water bottle left behind, I took a deep swig before throwing the bottle violently to the ground. The water was disgusting! The worst I have ever had, tasting as it smelled, like fecal matter. I sprayed the water over the ground and headed back to the track. The figure eight I had just completed measures to 3K, not quite enough for my liking. So, I did half of another loop.

My grand total for the night was 4.5K in 30 minutes, which is really good for me. I felt 100% better than I had when I first started and was glowing because I had pushed my limping self out for a 30 minute run, when others would have rested.

Oh wow.

Today was the first day after running that Fat Ass that I was actually up and walking around the entire day. Yesterday didn't count, I was in bed most of the day. But today, I was fully active. I awoke this morning and felt like a cripple.

My legs had stiffened more than I had thought they would and it was a surprise to nearly fall getting out of bed. Stretching briefly, I felt better, still crippled, but better. I slept in, having no time for a shower and raced off to school.

I couldn't leave the newsroom until 4:30, and I had to meet the running group at 5:30. This left no time for dinner. I drove as fast as legally possible to my boyfriends where dinner was waiting, scarfed down some food and bolted out the door again. I felt terrible for dine and dashing, but it had to be done.

I was nervous going to the running group, I hadn't been there since September. It was a different time, new people and darker sky. It started out rocky, unsure of which path the group would choose to take. My calves were screaming, they were not completely happy with the running that was about to take place.

The group broke into three groups: a slower group, a faster/longer group and my group. An older woman ran with me, and she matched my brisk pace easily, even pushing the envelope a little. We ran with the faster/longer group until our halfway mark, when they decided to branch off and go further.

My lungs were screaming almost as loudly as my sore muscles were. I had to stop more often than made me happy, but we finished with a great time.

The route we chose had three hills, well four but one was tiny. We crossed two bridges, forcing us to a brisk walk to conquer them. I was too weak to give the hills a thorough beating, and it didn't help that I forgot my water for the night. It completely slipped my mind.

Magically we made good time, running 7K in 45 minutes which is a PR for me.

Recovery run tomorrow night.

The Day after...dun dun dunn

As my blog yesterday will attest to, I just ran the Fat Ass Trail Run of 2009. I had a feeling that today would be a wreck, but I had no idea it would be anything like this.

My lung infection flared up yesterday during the race, causing me to take my medicine to get rid of the infection. The medicine is extremely high-dosage, high in codeine and makes me a little loopy, so I usually don't take it unless necessary.

Yesterday, I felt it was necessary as I could not breathe. There is only a couple of doses left in the bottle, so I figured it would be okay and that my reaction wouldn't be too terrible.

I couldn't get to bed until three this morning, and only managed to sleep for two hours. It felt like I was on crack, my entire body was shaking, I felt like there were creepy-crawling things all over me and I just felt itchy. Besides the fact that I was exhausted, it was like I had had twenty cups of coffee. I was wired.

This morning I awoke from my, short nap, and felt okay. So I got dressed, checked some emails and fell directly back into bed. It was like I was drunk, or had been drunk.

The effects I had from the run yesterday were minimal, my hips were a little sore. Feet a little tender and calves a little clenched, but everything else was fine. I should be up and running today, if I hadn't taken that damn medicine.

From now on I'm going to do this my way. I like to take care of things, the natural way, not taking medication and putting unnatural things into my body. Clearly, I would've been better off my way.

Fat Ass Trail Run

Let me start off by apologizing now for the stress that will invariably come from reading this post.

In September, very early September I signed up for a race called the Fat Ass Trail Run. There are 3 divisions, 7.5K, 17.5K and the 25K. The race took place today, Nov 15, on the Batawa Ski Hill. I knew the race would be tough, so I signed up for the 7.5K which would still be the longest I have ever raced. Upon registering, I was informed that the race actually goes up the ski hill and is considered one of the toughest races in November.

Honestly, I thought I would have tons of time to prepare for the event. But as I stated a few blogs back, I fell ill and my training came to a sudden and screeching halt. While I am not taking my medication regularly anymore, my lung infection is still causing many problems.

This morning I awoke with the mantra, "It doesn't matter how quickly you finish, or whether you even run the entire thing. Just finish." I have run a handful of times in the past two weeks, and have not improved my air capacity. With this in mind, I knew that I would finish, I'm too proud not to finish. I'm too proud to not run even though I'll be in terrible shape during, after and for the next day.

It was foggy when I awoke, though warm. I put on my usual running attire, leggings and a long-sleeved pink base layer shirt. My trail running shoes fit beautifully this morning.

Arriving at the Batawa Ski Hill chalet, the buidling was packed with runners, stretching and preparing for whichever race they signed on for. The mentality was calm, rather than the usual chaos I have experienced at other races.

The race began at 10, when we all packed into the driveway of the chalet and ran behind a four-wheeler. The four-wheeler guided us down the road, away from the ski hill for half a kilometre before looping back around. Then the race truly began and I already felt like dying. Though I physically felt fine, my lungs just could not get me the air that I required. Disappointed but not giving up, I walked/ jogged slowly up the steep incline of the ski hill. My calves burned, shoulder stiffening and breathing ragged. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it, and yet only 1.5K in.

I made it to the first checkpoint, running slowly along the beautiful hilltop trail. It was just like i was running at Goodrich Loomis, where I usually run.

A man passed me, going in the opposite direction. Concerned, I stopped and asked if he was injured, as he had a pained expression. He had gone out too fast and his heart monitor began going off. He didn't finish the race and went back to the chalet.

The next obstacle was going downhill, you had to go snail slow, carefully placing each foot so you didn't slide on something loose beneath the blanket of leaves. A marker on the side of the hill proclaimed 'Tuck and Roll."

A woman slid down the hill accidentally, rolling her ankle.

The next area of the course was a grassy field, turned swampland. The area must have been 20ft by 50ft of thick, murky water with a muddy bottom. The water wasn’t deep, just not something i wanted to go through with the race to finish.

A path had been cut in tall grass following the outskirts of the ‘puddle’. Others had gone that way, so that way I went. It didn’t work out. I ended up with soaked feet and mud surrounding my ankles. Finally on dry land, I shook both feet, sending fans of water in either direction.

I started to cough. The coughing came hard, as I hadn’t pushed my lungs like this while still having the infection.

Before I continue, I should say one thing. My mother had been thoughtful, and bought me pre-mixed, high protein drinks called Boost. The vanilla flavour really isn’t that bad, but for someone who is potentially lactose-intolerant, they weren’t great.

The coughing turned violent, the violent turned into vomiting. All over the tall grass I spewed, retasting the Boost that I really didn’t like in the first place. Luckily I had gotten it off the track, and continued on.

I came to the second checkpoint, and was informed that I was not last. I was so relieved, and awestruck. Looking back, I couldn’t see anyone behind me, they must have been moving at a glacial speed.

I thought about asking him whether or not I was on the right path, I hadn't seen any signs dividing the course amongst the three lengths and was worried that I was actually doing the longer ones. It definitely felt like I had done 15K instead of 5K. I was on the correct path, I caught up with one woman, who appeared to be just as slow as I was. She said she did the run last year and it was the same course, we weren't lost.

I stayed with her the rest of the run, my lungs were on fire and breathing very laboured, with her rolled ankle we made a great pair. She was great company, seeing as we only had another kilometre to go, at most, she was very knowledgeable about the course. It was sparsly marked through this last part and with her leading the way, it went quickly.

The final leg of the race was downhill, as it only made sense that the beginning was climbing the monstrous ski hill. I always like to make a hard ending on the races I do, no matter how rough of shape I am in. Running down the ski hill and curving toward the chalet I could hear my younger cousin yelling "Go, go, go" from the finish line. I have been trying to expose her to the non-competitive side of running, the side that encourages friendships to be formed and walking through races. The side that is for pure enjoyment.

I ended the race, weazing and jello-legged in 70 minutes. While 7.5K in 70 minutes is not a good time, 7.5K up a ski hill, with a severe lung infection, and having not run in the past two weeks, 70 minutes felt amazing.

My goal had been to finish under 90 minutes, and I had done that. Next year, under 60.

Run ending with a grocery bag filled with mushrooms.

My run this afternoon had been scheduled to be with my cousin, but after calling her house, I decided to go alone. I didn't mind, with my lung infection lingering about, I feel wimpy having to stop constantly to stop my throat from closing in. I know, it's not a wimpy reason, but having to stop so many times sucks.

It was the perfect time of the day to run, besides first thing in the morning, the sun was halfway done the sky, just above the peaks of the trees.

I bundled up, putting on two shirts with my leggings and gloves. The air hurt going through my throat, feeling like a huge ice clump that stopped my breathing before it could start. During my short walking breaks, placing my gloved hair before my mouth and nose helped to warm the air before I inhaled it, this helped me recover quicker.

I feel that I am recovering, my lung infection is still there, but I was able to run more than my last attempt. It actually felt like my best run yet, 4K and only had to stop 5 times due to my coughing.

It was muddy and cold, though the one perk was that the strenuous uphill sections, were dry as a bone... err dirt path.

Finishing the run I felt amazing, rejuvenated by the first decent run since falling ill.

Walking back to my car, an elderly couple was ahead of me. Running up to them, I began chatting with the couple and found that they had walked a small trail in the conservation area to collect wild mushrooms. They ended up with an entire grocery bag of mushrooms.

Short run ended in squeaky toy transformation

I went for a run yesterday, though I probably should not have. After being sick for a week, my back had gone back to its original, terrifying spasmic self and rendered me less than useless. But, after a hot bath had loosened my muscles, I decided to go for a brief 3K run.

It felt great to be moving again, and actually be outdoors. I felt useless just lying around with absolutely nothing to do. So out I went, braving the elements.

Okay, it actually went terrible. I couldn't breathe, my lungs and throat were on fire, but I was moving forward and that was a start. Luckily, it really wasn't that cold out and the sun felt nice against my pale skin.

The coughing began, I was completely doubled over, hacking what felt like a lung up and out of my mouth. Nope, just phlegm. What a lovely picture, I know.

I perseved, covering a measly 3K when I wanted to be doing 8, by the way, did I mention that I have a race in two weeks that I really should be training for.

The Fat Ass Trail Run is coming up on the 15th of November. And while I will have no problem with the distance, and will probably feel like death when it's over, I still wish to train for it. Somehow the idea of running up a ski hill feels a little daunting to me.

But not yet, there is no way I could tackle anything like that when 3K of slightly uneven terrain leaves me squeaking like a dog's chew toy. The sports drink I carried helped a bit, but it was an undeniable likeness.

Should be interesting when I go tonight for a trail run...

After taking a full week away from the running world...

Hey everyone, it's been awhile, I know but I have a good reason I swear.

Around Sunday, I came down with a heavy cough, this was worse than my usual cough that has been plaguing me for the past month. Monday I awoke to a high fever, and nausea added to this cough, so I spent the day in bed. Tuesday, a severely sniffly nose was added to my list of symptoms and my fever had not gone done. Also, I hadn't been able to sleep that night due to the high fever and much coughing. Off to the doctor I went to find out what exactly was the matter.

Turns out, I have a severe lung infection, similar to pneumonia but quite different. After obtaining some relatively heavy duty medicine, I have been asleep for the past 120 hours, approximately.

After springing from bed this morning at 8:15 I felt well enough to run, and was optimistic about my first run of the week. I put on leggings, long sleeved base layer shirt and headed out the door. Originally, my plan had been to run at the local conservation area, but after much debate about how if I were to fall ill while running and not be able to get help, I decided to stay close to home.

It was much warmer than I had anticipated, and had to roll up my sleeves after stepping out the door.

I could tell after the first step that this run would not be the magnificent comeback that I was hoping for. My lungs constricted quickly, air burned in my throat with each step that I took.

From laying down for an entire week, my back was one spasmic knot, running did not seem to be able to soothe this beast today. After a pitiful 2.5K of strenuous effort, which should have been a simple warm up breeze, I called it a day. Clearly today i was better than I had been earlier in the week, but I'm not fully back to normal.

I'll try again tomorrow.