The Comfort Zone

I have come across a range of blog posts and articles in the past month on the topic of pushing yourself during activity, specifically during running. Some preach to go easy and celebrate all accomplishments, big and small. Others insist if there's no pain -- and there SHOULD be pain -- there's no gain.

Of course, two extremes.

The way we see it, which should be no surprise, is that balance is best. Our bodies are more capable than our minds allow them to be. I have much of a harder time pushing myself than Stephen does because I let my brain rule. The mental aspect of training is what gets me every time.

We all have different capacities to endure discomfort, however. The key to finding a healthy balance is defining your own comfort zone. Doing so will take trial and error. To find your basic zone, consider visiting a nearby track and having a friend time you as you run an easy mile. (We could get much more specific, but we'll save that for another post.)

The pace should be light enough that you can carry a conversation. Once you've figured it out, you can begin experimenting with pushing beyond it. But working out hard shouldn't be a daily thing.


WHEN TO PUSH

• When your plan says you should. Most training plans are divided up into easy days, quality workouts, and rest. Track workouts and hill repeats are the times when you should leave you comfort zone. You don't need to go crazy, but working harder will yield results.
• During races. Pushing it when it counts the most. Throughout, but especially in the final mile or miles of a race, depending on the distance. After all, it's a RACE. That's sort of the point. Right?
• When the mood strikes. Some days, you might just feel like pushing hard. Maybe you need an energy release. Maybe you have missed some days in your regular routine. Whatever it is, go with it.

There's a difference between pushing through pain and pushing through discomfort. When the sensation hits you, it can be extremely difficult to distinguish between the two. Oftentimes, that burning feeling in your muscles at the end of a hard workout is the buildup of lactic acid.


Runner beware: Pain can also mean injury. For example, I DNFed at the Wineglass Marathon (wrote about it here and here) in the fall of 2010. Something just didn't feel right. I ended up having an acute IT-band issue that took months to heal.

I hate to think about it, but I have zero shame in stopping. It was the right thing to do in that situation. It doesn't make me any less of an athlete. Taking it easy throughout the healing process helped me bounce back. Being "hardcore" isn't so cool if it's at the expense of your health.

In perspective, it was a mere blip in a long relationship I hope to have with running.


WHEN TO BACK OFF

• During injury/illness/etc. If you're sick or feeling a pain in a specific area time and time again, it's probably time to rest. Visit the doctor. Reevaluate goals. In my experience, pushing through will only hurt more in the long run.  
• On easy days. Or between training cycles. As I mentioned above, you should really only being running hard a few days a week as defined in a training plan. Those quality days are what make you a stronger runner. The easy days are for maintenance, base mileage, and active rest/recovery. Enjoy them.  
• During mental burnout. I am prone to this one. It's why I leave my watch behind on most runs. If you're experiencing true burnout, take some time off. Sometimes all you need is a few days for fresh perspective.

The truth is: Unless you push beyond your comfort zone at least some of the time, you likely won't see significant changes in your race times. If you're a hobby runner, that might be fine. But if you want to see results, experiment.

I started by simply signing up for more races. It was my way of getting in more speedwork while having some fun. Over time, I became s.l.i.g.h.t.l.y more disciplined and have been able to carry over some of it to my training. Stephen has some more specific methods we'll examine in another post.

How do you feel about pushing yourself during exercise? Any experiences to share?


Today on Writing Chapter Three, we have a bit of a photo-bomb for you of 9 month photos at the park. Nine months? REALLY?!

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DNF, Part II: Moving Forward

I'm absolutely overwhelmed (in a great way) by the thoughtful, caring, and candid responses you've all had to my very first D(id) N(ot) F(inish) at the Wineglass Marathon this weekend. Your comments, tweets, emails, and other shows of support (including the Edible Arrangement my in-laws sent me!) mean so much. I wish Blogger had a better system in place of responding to individual comments. I took the day off from blogging yesterday because it seemed every post I wanted to link to had some reference to the race in it.

I needed it all out of my mind. If only for one day. But I read each and every one of your words, most of them more than once.

You taught me that DNF doesn't have to be a negative failure weighing on my mind for days, months, and years to come. It happens to elite athletes. It happens to newbies. It happens to, well, ANYONE depending on the circumstances. DNF means so much more than not finishing. Instead, it's something I should be proud of despite how I may have felt at the time, or how I feel today, or how I may feel tomorrow. I listened to what my body was telling me even though it meant giving up a goal I had carried for a long time. I did what was best for me given my situation and for what will contribute to my running in the long term.

Actually, I think that's one of the best points I took away from your messages. Racing doesn't define my worth as a runner. Of course, I know this concept, well, truth in my mind -- it's back there. But sometimes all the build-up to a specific event clouds that way of thinking. I still did all the training. I ran my first 50+ mile week and lived to tell you all about it. I was consistently strong and meeting my pacing goals.

In effect, I did everything right. But my ultimate goal -- one way more important and weighty than running a 3:50:00 marathon on one specific day -- is to be a runner for life. To stay active and fit to live the best life I can possibly live. And in that, I'm succeeding like a pro.


So many factors -- both external and internal -- contribute to performance. Enough said, really. Even on the most perfect weather days, you can be sick. Or you can be feeling your best, and roll your ankle. Or you could have trained perfectly and there could be some kind of heat wave. Just because all my wrongs aligned to make a perfect storm doesn't mean it will happen next time. And there most certainly will be a next time.

I can look at this DNF as an opportunity versus a disappointment. It has taught me that I need to focus on other areas of my training, specifically my cross-training in flexibility and strength. Varying my workouts and spending some days off the pavement in favor of other pursuits (like yoga or even pure rest) would not only be beneficial to my body but also to my mind.

Perhaps what I learned most of all is that I have a ton of people pulling for me. People (you self-titled "lurkers," included too!) that I never really knew cared. When I lace up at the start of the Philly Marathon next month (or at another race in the future), I'll think of ALL of you. Of your stories, your struggles, your wisdom. I'll think back on all the support, advice, and love you showed me in one of my darkest moments as an athlete. Running is about my personal goals and achievements, but it's also very much about community. At least for me. About this intangible, infinite thing. A bond, I guess, that we can't exactly measure in our PR times or number of races finished.

Seriously, if you missed it. Check out all the love and support from our wonderful readers. You guys and gals truly are why we love blogging.


OPERATION ROCK THE PHILADELPHIA MARATHON

With all this said, I've formulated a new training plan for the next seven weeks. I've also developed four major goals for myself. Things I think will help me as I progress through the next month. Things I think I could have done differently to help me stay healthy and strong.


1.) Stretch and Strengthen. Throughout my training since July, I didn't stretch terribly much. Nor did I do any exercises specifically meant to strengthen my legs/core/etc. I kept up with my push-ups -- but only minimally so (I can do 35 max right now versus the 80 I could do in the summer!). Stephen and I have decided to do at least 30 minutes of yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays (after our lighter runs of the week). We feel GREAT when we do yoga.

And, since everything is connected, I think working on my core strength, in particular, may help with my piriformis issue. When symptoms of the muscle problem started up last fall (basically, it feels like a muscle cramp I can't stretch because of its location leading to trouble sitting, stiffness in my back/butt, and radiating pain down my leg and in my lower abdomen), I had tremendous pain almost all day. After the Philly Marathon, I stopped running due to another injury and started doing yoga three times a week. The pain subsided and never got back up to the level it was at its height, even when I started running again. Anyway, I know yoga is -- in large part -- to thank for the improvement.


2.) Watch My Diet. But not in the way that you may think. I'm still going to continue to eat . . . a LOT. But I need to fill my plate with the good-for-me foods versus getting lazy and reaching time and time again for refined carbs. I eat pizza all the time. Let me say that again, I ORDER pizza all the time. All that white bread isn't good. All last week for lunch, I ate Taco Bell bean burritos. Yes. That's right: Fast food. And when I make dessert, I eat dessert. But like the entire batch of cookies in two days. Mostly because it's there and I'm hungry for what's most easily available.

My method will be preparing foods ahead of time that I can more easily grab and go. Instead of a candy bar, I'll reach for apple slices. Instead of ordering a pizza, I'll slurp some homemade chili. I'm still going to eat a lot, but just more of the good-for-you things that I know make me feel my best. I am usually pretty good about eating whole foods and preparing my own. It's hard after running 20 miles to feel like cooking, though. I want to make the extra effort because I know it will help me rebound and store the most energy.


3.) Run Slower. On my long runs, at least. That's right. I need to run my long runs at a slower pace. I ran each of my three 20-milers in around 3:03:00. That's 9:09 pace. That's a 4:00:00 marathon. My goal for Philly will be to finish, but my not-so secret goal will be to finish somewhere between 3:50 and four hours.

With long runs, speed is of little importance. It's time on your feet that matters most. I've read these runs should be done anywhere between 30 and 90 seconds slower than goal. I'd like to add at least a little time per mile to get more time on my feet. I may even try to run a 22-miler (Stephen did this during his training and said it helped). We'll see.

Along these same lines: I WILL practice what to eat on the run. Many people have suggested Clif Shot Bloks. But please let me know if you have other suggestions!


4.) Continue to Listen to My Body. I know I may be going a bit overboard with this statement. But after all this new training -- if I don't feel up to racing the full -- I'll go and do the half. Even though officially I cannot change my registration at this point, I'll see what they can do for me at the expo. And even if they can't change it -- tough. I'll run the half and time myself.

But I'm thinking positively. I'm also thinking that there's a reason we randomly signed up for Philly. It may have been the race I'm really meant to run. Who knows. I'm a big believer in fate.


One more thing: I also learned that I'm not alone in thinking the marathon distance might not be for me. I want to give the distance another race a go before I condemn it completely. I love the training. I feel great running 20 mile runs. But the race is just grueling. I love half marathons because I feel I have the most potential to get speedy with them. My very first half was finished in around 2:04:00, my second in around 1:53:30, and my latest PR is 1:46:31. That's significant improvement. If I could race one right now, I'm confident I'd take at least another minute off that time. And eventually even more.

For now, I'm just hoping to have a 2010 edition of this photo to show you late next month:


How have you bounced back after a big disappointment? Did you set new goals for moving forward? Any you may think would be helpful to me? Your feedback, as always, is so incredibly appreciated by me and other readers! Just leave a comment or email us at neverhomemaker [at] gmail [dot] com.

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Wineglass Recap: My First DNF

Well, we're back from our marathon weekend in Corning, NY! Unfortunately, we couldn't find our not-so fancy camera, so we didn't snap any photos ourselves. However, we did receive a couple from our friends of before and during the race. My parents also got a few after the race, so when I get those, I'll post them ASAP.

The weather was excellent. Around 40 degrees at the start . . . and no showers like the forecasters had anticipated all week. The skies were mostly sunny and there was only a gentle breeze. Seriously perfect racing conditions! Stephen earned a new PR, finishing in 2:55:48 -- eight and a half minutes better than his Philly time last year! But he's planning to write his own race recap this week.

This is my story of my first-ever DNF (did not finish).


Like I said, the race conditions were perfect. But let's back up. The day before the race, we got into town early to have lunch with my grandparents and hit up the expo. We finally found a room to stay in (instead of getting up at 4AM to drive to the shuttle [that takes another 25 minutes to reach the start line]).

The room was comfortable and clean. We turned in around 9:30PM (after laying out everything we'd need in the morning) and set the alarm for 5:00AM, but neither of us slept well. It wasn't really nerves (it was nerves in Philly that kept us up all night) -- instead it was the really loud AC unit that kept clonking on and off every half hour. When we had turned it off, around midnight, we thought FINALLY we'd get some rest. Then around 12:30, this loud group (staying at the hotel for a wedding, we think) returned to their room on our floor. Sloppy drunk. AND DID WE SAY LOUD?!?! Yes. We thought they'd quiet down, but over an hour later . . . it seems they only got, well, louder.

At this point, I'd woken up every hour on the hour. Stephen called the front desk to report the issue. They quieted a bit. But still had a few outbursts for the next couple hours. I did end up getting a good stretch of sleep between 2 and 4AM, but then I kept waking up thinking the alarm was about to go off. Long story short: Not a great night of sleep.


We got up at 5AM, ate a few bites of bagel with maple almond butter, and drank a bit of water. Got in the car, drove to the shuttle busses, and finally got to the start. It was cold. But we thought ahead and wore our space blankets. We visited the Port-a-John line a few times, and before we knew it, the race was starting!

I placed myself just before the 4:00:00 pacing group. As I wrote in last week's post, my ultimate goal was to finish around 3:50:00. I started off slow. Kept with the pace group for the first mile, then just kept going at a comfortable rate. I felt like I could talk the whole time. I felt confident and strong. The course wasn't flat, but a good mix of gentle up- and downhills. And then flat. And then a couple more gentle up- and downhills.

• 5K time was around 26:48 (8:38 average pace -- thanks to a downhill start).
• 10K time was around 53:55 (8:41 average overall pace)
• 15K time was around 1:21:30 (8:46 average overall pace -- there was a hill in there)
• Half Marathon time was around 1:55:20 (8:48 average overall pace, see how I'm slowing?)
• 16 mile time was around 2:20:00 (8:45 average overall time)

Now, around the 14 mile mark, I started to feel hot. I took off my long sleeve and tied it around my waist. Then a few minutes later, my back began to bother me -- I don't know if I've written about my left piriformis muscle problem before, but it was that muscle, tightening. And it seemed that my whole pelvis area was sore and worsening with each stride. Kind of early to have these sorts of pains, I kept thinking. I took a moment to slow down and walk at a water stop. I also took a gel.

Around the 25K mark (15.5 miles), the pain was worse. And it seemed I was hitting the wall. I drank some Gatorade because I thought it'd help wake my legs up. The mix of gels and Gatorade made me sick to my stomach. It tasted toxic and was just sloshing around in my stomach. Ick. I didn't abide by the "nothing new on race day" rule. Though I had brought some homemade energy chunks, I somehow thought I'd NEED the gels. Everyone else was taking them. So, by 16 miles, I had consumed two packets.


When my legs and back just felt like they needed a rest, I thought I'd walk until the 4:00:00 pace group caught up with me. This was around mile 16.5, I believe, and I ran with them for a few minutes (maybe 3/10 of a mile) before I realized I just couldn't keep up. I had reached 17 miles and just couldn't see myself continuing on. I was even feeling dizzy. Totally zapped of energy. And -- again -- this is way too early to hit the wall. Especially with how many 20-milers I ran in my training this time around.

My back was killing me.
My energy was super low.
My morale was in the dumps.
I just wasn't having a good day.
At all.

I debated continuing on by walking and then running the rest of the way. But with 9 miles left to go, I just couldn't see that being any fun. (Maybe if I had only 5 to go, I kept thinking.) At the next water station, I stopped. I drank some water. And I made one of the most difficult decisions I've had to make in a long time: I was not going to finish the race. I was going to add a DNF to my otherwise impressive racing history. I sat down behind the water station and one of the volunteers asked me if I was OK. I was OK, my condition wasn't some sort of emergency, but I just couldn't go on feeling the way I felt.

The race didn't exactly have a great system in place to get injured-but-not-critically-awful runners back to the start. The course was relatively closed to traffic. Unless I needed an ambulance, I was out of luck. Thankfully, the volunteer (his name was Bill) said "Screw it!" and just got me in his car and drove. We reached the next relay entry point (18 miles -- where I had started the 3rd leg of the course 6 years ago when I did the relay), and then talked to some race officials. They gave us a hard time. They said it would be almost impossible to pass through the bridge to get to the highway and then asked me if I needed an ambulance. Uh, NO. All of this made me feel like I wasn't "truly" injured. It made me feel like I had made the wrong decision and should have just toughened up and finished the race.

Oh, the mental anguish I felt.


I was also extremely cold at this point. I was shivering out of control despite having the heat on full-blast in the car. Eventually, the race officials decided to let us pass. However, it was in one of the most embarrassing moments of my life! They called out on their megaphones: "INJURED RUNNER, COMING THROUGH. INJURED RUNNER, COMING THROUGH" -- EVERYONE -- runners, volunteers, spectators -- looked at me. Oh, goodness. Anyway, we finally reached the finish line, I got out of Bill's car after thanking him 1,000,000 times for all his help (I mean, the guy was just a water stop volunteer -- he didn't need to drive me 9 miles to the finish!). This was all around 3:36:00. So, when I saw Stephen, he was utterly confused. So were my parents!

The rest of the day, I can't explain it -- but my back felt better after laying flat on the ground for an hour or so. My legs felt like I didn't run a race. However, I did get completely sick. My nose won't stop running and I am sneezing like crazy. Usually my allergy pill takes care of these symptoms. But they are holding strong. I now have a full-on cold. It may explain why I just felt so awful and drained during the race. I've been piecing myself together for two weeks now by taking lots of vitamins and doing everything I could to avoid getting sick (despite how everyone around me has been ill).

Stephen says to just think of it all as a 17-mile pace workout for Philly. I'm trying my best. But let's just say more than one tear was shed yesterday (OK. The floodgates opened wide . . . ) and I'm still feeling depressed. Like the worst I've ever felt, quite honestly. I trained for this race specifically since July. I ran one of my three 20-milers in the pouring rain. There were so many social things I said NO to because I needed to run. Or go to sleep early to run. So much time given . . . and energy and passion expended.

My training was strong. Looking at my splits for the race, I do see that I started out fast. In all honesty, it didn't feel fast to me. I felt like I was holding back. If I do decide to race Philly (I am 90% sure I will, but I'm feeling pretty low right now), I want to find the 4:00:00 pace group and just stay with them for the first half of the race.


The big question remains in my mind: Could I have finished the race and been OK? I really don't know. I hate that I keep asking myself this question. Later in the day, I was sick, but my body felt fine. That nagging muscle and pelvis pain was gone. It made me question my decision. But Stephen keeps trying to remind me that I don't give up easily. If something was really wrong in that moment, if I deliberated like I usually do (and I REALLY do), I did the right thing by stopping. And, I guess once this sadness and these terrible feelings of shame pass . . . I'll realize that I wanted to stay strong for Philly instead of (literally) run myself ragged. Who knows what another 9 miles could have done to my back?

As I wrote the other day, I feel like there's a lot of pressure in the running and healthy living communities to do ultra-distance races. Though I don't sign up for races based on this pressure, the mental seed has been planted that to be "serious" you must run marathons. I know in my heart this isn't true, but every time I set out on a 20-mile training run, found myself at the start line of 26.2, or talked with other marathoners, I feel so inspired. Maybe I'm just having a bad weekend. And this post is incredibly long. So, I'll stop now :)

Have you ever had to stop running a race? Earned the dreaded DNF title? Or have you pushed through when you totally thought you couldn't finish? I'd love to hear your experiences. I'm starting to think that racing the marathon distance isn't my thing. I have so much fun with half marathons. And I like my long training runs. But racing the marathon is just . . . a lot. I do feel I made the best decision for myself yesterday. I listened to what my body was telling me to do. It was so tough. I still can't describe how it feels exactly. It must have been the right to do, though.

At least, I hope.

Anyway, please leave a comment or email us at neverhomemaker [at] gmail [dot] com.

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