I've run a lot of miles since I last posted about training. I gained a lot of fitness, lost some of it, and am now somewhere between not fit and really fit. My last training post came in July, after I had been using the Flotrack running logs for the previous month. In April through June of 2014, I probably averaged about 15 miles a week. In July, my weekly totals were 15, 17, 18, and 12. In August, 17, 17, 14, and 19. In September, 10, 19, 26, and 17. In October, 23, 30, 30, 33, and 26. In November, 40, 27, 26, and 27. With an 11 and a 13 in December. Then I took a break because my legs were way past beat up. Then I continued the break because it was the holiday season. Then my Mom passed away and there just wasn't any joy to be found in running for a while. Then I wanted to start back but felt ashamed I had stopped. But now I'm in the middle of my 11th week of running again. Weeks 2 and 3 were cut short due to a wisdom tooth extraction, but in the other 9, I've managed to get in 17, 14, 16, 19, 17, 19, 19, and 19 miles. I've increased my daily run length by nearly 2 miles now, but I went from 7 days of running to 5 days because of hectic travel and injury concerns.
Looking back on last years cycle, I am amazed to see I ran in the 30s several times and even managed a week of 40, but there was a no progressive build up to those totals, which I believe sacrificed my ability to maintain health. This time, I hope to be more conservative in my build up to peak mileage. One difference in this cycle from the last is that I am only doing easy running, as opposed to intermittent workouts like last year. I've also reduced the number of strides I do after a run, and not added in a long run yet, but I do surge up a 250m hill a couple times a week, as well as do a couple strides up the steepest 100m section.
While I didn't have many interval workouts last year, I have a few I want to try again once I end my base phase. First, I did a 4 x Mile session, averaging 7:27 with 2:15 rest, in mid-October. In early November, I did 12 x 700m averaging 3:13 (7:24 pace) off 65 seconds rest, and felt very strong, though it did make me very sore.
I look forward to posting more regularly about my training from here on out!
Monday, May 18, 2015
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
On Loss
I'm going to skip the part where I reintroduce myself to you and fully explain my absence from the digital writing scene. We all know where that post leads. (hint: To a subsequent reintroduction and explanation of further absence.)
Rather, I'm going to talk about what it's like, for me, to miss someone who is truly gone. On January 14th, my mother passed away at the age of 57. While she had been varying levels of sick since 2004, her death shocked me. She had gone in to the emergency room for a painful albeit non-life threatening condition on January 5th, when they discovered the toxin levels in her liver were high. On January 6th, she underwent her third liver stent placement, which was successful. I sat with her in post-op and later in her room until they delivered her dinner, at which point I kissed her on the forehead and told her I loved her, and she told me she loved me too.
Those were the last words my Mom spoke to me, and the last time I saw her awake. The following day, while I stayed home to clean up the house for her return, she became increasingly incoherent. Despite a blood transfusion that night, she was worse on Wednesday morning when my Dad went up, and they had to move her to the IR, where she was placed in a coma, one that she would not wake up from.
I spent countless hours by the Mom's side over the course of the following week. But I can't quite picture her in that state, a mental block I'm glad I have. I don't want to remember her like that. When I think of my Mom, I think of all the television we watched together, the walks around the yard admiring nature, the adventures in Lumberton. Those are pleasant memories, ones that brings a smile to my face. This is part of missing someone, missing the shared experiences and happy moments. But it is not all that you miss.
Most painfully, you miss the future moments you could have had. Things you wish you could say, things you have to learn to do alone, moments where you desperately want that person with you. Luckily, these are usually in passing or else I'd be tortured on a daily basis just doing the dishes or watching crime dramas. While I certainly wept when she passed away and I wept when we buried her, I haven't since. Nothing has brought me to that level of sadness, as each day has been equally bad as the previous one. However, I do think that there will be monumental days in my life in which her absence will bring me to tears. When I get married, and when I have my children, I will surely be a wreck, as I promised my Mom I would make her an integral part of those events unlike my older brother.
I wanted to share this with you simply to get it out of me. I don't expect any of these feelings and thoughts to be shocking, but as someone who had never experienced the loss of a loved one before, I was unaware how I would react. And for those of you who have and continue to support me through this new chapter in my life, I can not thank you enough, you have been invaluable to me.
Rather, I'm going to talk about what it's like, for me, to miss someone who is truly gone. On January 14th, my mother passed away at the age of 57. While she had been varying levels of sick since 2004, her death shocked me. She had gone in to the emergency room for a painful albeit non-life threatening condition on January 5th, when they discovered the toxin levels in her liver were high. On January 6th, she underwent her third liver stent placement, which was successful. I sat with her in post-op and later in her room until they delivered her dinner, at which point I kissed her on the forehead and told her I loved her, and she told me she loved me too.
Those were the last words my Mom spoke to me, and the last time I saw her awake. The following day, while I stayed home to clean up the house for her return, she became increasingly incoherent. Despite a blood transfusion that night, she was worse on Wednesday morning when my Dad went up, and they had to move her to the IR, where she was placed in a coma, one that she would not wake up from.
I spent countless hours by the Mom's side over the course of the following week. But I can't quite picture her in that state, a mental block I'm glad I have. I don't want to remember her like that. When I think of my Mom, I think of all the television we watched together, the walks around the yard admiring nature, the adventures in Lumberton. Those are pleasant memories, ones that brings a smile to my face. This is part of missing someone, missing the shared experiences and happy moments. But it is not all that you miss.
Most painfully, you miss the future moments you could have had. Things you wish you could say, things you have to learn to do alone, moments where you desperately want that person with you. Luckily, these are usually in passing or else I'd be tortured on a daily basis just doing the dishes or watching crime dramas. While I certainly wept when she passed away and I wept when we buried her, I haven't since. Nothing has brought me to that level of sadness, as each day has been equally bad as the previous one. However, I do think that there will be monumental days in my life in which her absence will bring me to tears. When I get married, and when I have my children, I will surely be a wreck, as I promised my Mom I would make her an integral part of those events unlike my older brother.
I wanted to share this with you simply to get it out of me. I don't expect any of these feelings and thoughts to be shocking, but as someone who had never experienced the loss of a loved one before, I was unaware how I would react. And for those of you who have and continue to support me through this new chapter in my life, I can not thank you enough, you have been invaluable to me.
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