While training for the 10K, I used this schedule, wore these shoes (I know, I know, but they got rid of my plantar fascitis immediately) and listened to this playlist:
Towards the end of the ten weeks, I started substituting relaxed 4-5 mile runs for the intervals. Unfortunately, the week before the race was finals week at school so I barely trained at all, and then spent most of the days leading up just getting acclimated to the altitude in Boulder. I ended up walking about half of it, and I think if I'd kept up the training plan towards the end running the whole thing wouldn't have been a problem.
Around the 7th kilometer, I realized that this was something that I really could do, and I had a kind of breakthrough (for lack of a better word) about my body. I suddenly believed, truly, that being fit, and strong was more important than how I looked. I had faith in the whole of my body, even the parts that I feel insecure about. Suddenly, it wasn't something that I had to fight with and hide and change for the world but a vessel that was going to take me where I needed to go, that I could push and challenge and it was pretty great.
I'm not really a fitness-y person, but that feeling was really infectious, and I want to feel it again. I don't think I'll ever be one of those scary runner people
who stops by the side of the road to take their pulse and says things
like, "gait" and "hydration packs" but a lot of that is because I am
totally grossed out by my pulse.
Still, since the race, it's been easier than ever to get myself to run, and it's more fun than it was while I was training. Some of that might be the zombie scare. If you're a catastrophist like me, reading the news, putting on "Run Through The Jungle" and going for a run at dusk is a really good way to get yourself in Zombie Apocalypse shape fast.
Showing posts with label Boulder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boulder. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Travel Recaps: Boulder, CO
Before I tell you about my time in Boulder, CO, I'd like to tell you about its closest airport: Denver. The Denver International Airport is as lovely an airport as any, whatever Douglas Adams may say. And as one departs from it, one is treated to a rare vision of sculpted art. And by rare I mean terrifying and by vision I mean specter.
This is the enormous stallion sculpture that greets visitors. It seems relatively harmless from a distance, until you come around and see the demonic glowing eyes, which are yellow in the day and red in the night. For a more versatile horror experience, obviously.
And you hear that it killed its creator. I am not making this up: the scultpure fell on the sculptor and killed him. It is the spawn of Satan.
Aside from the terrifying welcoming committee, Boulder was fantastic. It's a great city, and I left feeling rejuvanated, inspired and ready to take on anything. Except, as it turns out, a 24-hour schlep to Germany with an 8 hour time difference that wiped the floor with me. But more on that later.
Ostensibly, I was there to run the Bolder Boulder 10K. If anyone is looking for a good starter race, this one is great. It feels like a parade where the crowds run by the floats instead of vice versa. It's relaxed, fun, and doesn't involve any terrifying fund raising. And once I was acclimated to the altitude, Boulder is perfect place to run. The natural splendor is a great alternative to a stairmaster, and the city seems to revolve around fitness. Everything is organic, there are more yoga studios than you can shake a stick at, and no one will judge you if you stand around shaking sticks at yoga studios. Maybe it's all that medical marijuana.
In reality, I was there to see my oldest friend in the world. Not oldest age-wise, obviously. In fact, she kicked my ass to keep running for the last .5 kilometers which, she cheerfully pointed out, only went halfway up an enormous hill. She also didn't judge me when I mumble-wheezed something profane in response.
She didn't even make fun of me when I forgot my running shoes, God bless her. Leading up to the race, when we weren't doing yoga, this was pretty much our life:
It was the perfect end to a long year. Next year, we're going to run in costume. More on that later.
NOTE: for more on the race, and how I trained, click here.
This is the enormous stallion sculpture that greets visitors. It seems relatively harmless from a distance, until you come around and see the demonic glowing eyes, which are yellow in the day and red in the night. For a more versatile horror experience, obviously.
 |
| Good Fucking Christ. |
And you hear that it killed its creator. I am not making this up: the scultpure fell on the sculptor and killed him. It is the spawn of Satan.
Aside from the terrifying welcoming committee, Boulder was fantastic. It's a great city, and I left feeling rejuvanated, inspired and ready to take on anything. Except, as it turns out, a 24-hour schlep to Germany with an 8 hour time difference that wiped the floor with me. But more on that later.
Ostensibly, I was there to run the Bolder Boulder 10K. If anyone is looking for a good starter race, this one is great. It feels like a parade where the crowds run by the floats instead of vice versa. It's relaxed, fun, and doesn't involve any terrifying fund raising. And once I was acclimated to the altitude, Boulder is perfect place to run. The natural splendor is a great alternative to a stairmaster, and the city seems to revolve around fitness. Everything is organic, there are more yoga studios than you can shake a stick at, and no one will judge you if you stand around shaking sticks at yoga studios. Maybe it's all that medical marijuana.
In reality, I was there to see my oldest friend in the world. Not oldest age-wise, obviously. In fact, she kicked my ass to keep running for the last .5 kilometers which, she cheerfully pointed out, only went halfway up an enormous hill. She also didn't judge me when I mumble-wheezed something profane in response.
 |
| Not pictured: beer. |
NOTE: for more on the race, and how I trained, click here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)