On the heels of Couch to 5K success my team convened at the pub. For celebratory pints, perhaps? Well, we did raise our glasses to that remarkable achievement…but then quickly set about plotting a course into uncharted territory—the 10K run. And thus it was decided to steer this expedition, à la Lewis and Clark, toward the October 12 Great Columbia Crossing!
Now more than six weeks into training, and no one in our party has yet to topple off the wagon, starve to death, or succumb to dysentery. What I mean to say is, this caravan is ON TRACK to rock Astoria next month! Check out the training plan I’ve been following since the beginning of August (excluding a Labor Day weekend vacation):
0615 Mondays: Speed
Getting up early after Sunday—blessed and glorious and sole day of sleeping past 0700 (see Saturday below)—really, really sucks. So to survive Monday practice, I usually cap the distance at a modest mile and a half in exchange for “speed” work. Fartlek is most easily organized at the track, thusly:
- Lap 1: Warm-up jog
- Laps 2 and 3: Jog comfortably until the blue arrows, then bust out the “sprint” and sustain it, briefly, to the next blue arrows (four fartlek frenzies per lap)
- Laps 4 and 5: Jog (gasping desperately by now) until the blue arrows, then muster the “sprint” and sustain it longer, until the white arrows or lane numbers
- Lap 6: Gentle cooldown jog focused on recovering my breath before the lap is up
0615 Wednesdays: Elevation
The Great Columbia Crossing follows a mostly flat course “with a challenging incline on the bridge rising 200 feet over the ship channel.” We aim to jog the 10K without stopping, and so hump day→hill day. On Wednesday mornings, masochism and metaphor combine for a surprisingly effective practice—the HIGH coming off these runs is incredible. With fellow hill junkie Rachel the question has become “Your neighborhood or mine?”—both routes more or less two miles or 3K:
- Witham Hill: That’s the one marked “steep” on the Corvallis bike map, yo.
- Hospital hill: Less steep but longer incline, and we haven’t yet needed to check ourselves in up top!
Be seriously impressed.
0615 Fridays: Freedom
Still swaggering from midweek total hill domination, I show up Friday all nonchalant to practice any old way. Which usually means meeting Rachel at the track, debating the relative merits of running four to six laps “fast” (my preference, to just get it over with, and since agony hits me hardest late in the second mile) or “might as well go three miles” (since the first mile and a half are her miserablest), and compromising on two miles. Or something. Showing up is the primary goal.
0800 Saturdays: Endurance
Every week the team reunites at the farm, or most recently, in the rolling countryside north of town. Our Saturday cult was born when one of us—experiencing C25K rapture, no doubt—was struck by an inspiration, and lo a voice spake unto her, “Thou shalt increase thy run time or distance by 10 percent each week until thy reacheth 10K.” A spreadsheet was brought down from the mountaintop, a weekly revival planned. This past Saturday, I think we all “saw Jesus” at some point during the 7K in 58 minutes. (Did I mention it’s rolling countryside? Dig that topography!) The farm route is distinctly more level and pleasantly free of vehicular traffic but lacks the abundant swaths of sweet shade in Crescent Valley.
So there you have it. Saturday’s Crescent Valley run was seriously exciting, going farther than ever before, in solidarity, over all those hills! and we could’ve kept right on! …even if it did turn out that I would nap the entire afternoon away. As I finish writing this report, I must confess that my swagger wavers a little at some concern about hip/knee/leg/foot (mostly knee) fatigue. But overall, I’m optimistic, definitely deranged, looking forward to the tapering phase and the Great Columbia beyond!
You three are incredible! At this rate 10k will be a walk in the park.
IN is where this doc is, and I’m the one on the couch, O Insanity Infected Girl. I am impressed. I am seriously impressed. I”m saying, “Dude, yo, this is supposed to be MY game. What’s the girl doing, stealing my game?” Delusional moments I picture doing this together over Tuscan fields. Where’s the couch?