Week eight was a transition week. It marked the division between the type of training I know and the type that is yet unknown — between “run 14 miles, then run a half-marathon” and “run 18 miles, and then a few weeks later, run 26.2.”
Yet, week eight was also a recovery week. So while it marked the start of something new, it found me doing something I’ve done countless times before: Running eight miles, eating some pizza, and falling in love with a new pair of running shoes.
Yeah, the shoes. I know. Whoops. I temporarily broke up with the Trances a couple of weeks ago — I think they will be fine without orthotics, someday — but without them in the rotation, the purple Adrenalines were on pace to be well over 350 miles come Berlin. I did one last-ditch hunt for Adrenaline 11s in my size but struck out, then went over to Fleet Feet to try the Mizuno Inspires that had been recommended to me previously. But when I ran in them, I felt a weird ridge on the bottom of the ball of my foot, and that seemed like a bad sign. I then tried a pair of Ravennas, and they felt like every Brooks shoe I’ve ever put on, which is to say they felt like coming home. So come home they did. (I also tried the Nike LunarGlides and LOVED them, but the Fleet Feet guy recommended not doing more than 20% of mileage in them at first, and I don’t want to do something that drastic because the whole point is to save the purples for Berlin. Once the purples are dead, though, I’m coming back for the LunarGlides.)
And, uh. Speaking of coming home, then we made an offer on a house. I will say no more, lest the internet jinx it; suffice to say I’m now jittery and overcaffeinated and glued to my phone.
Onto the dailies:
Monday: Dailymile says I swam, but I only sort of believe it, because I think I was asleep the whole time. 1320 yards in just over half an hour, mostly alternating 200 swim/200 pull.
Tuesday: In the morning, an 5.2-mile accidental progression run. Ended up decreasing from a 10:14 mile to an 8:54 one over the course of the run. I seem to have one of these at least once a week these days, and I’m truly not planning them (I’m not even looking at pace on my watch 90% of the time), so I figure as long as my effort feels consistent, there’s no reason not to go with it. Yoga at night.
Wednesday: 50 minutes of pool-running, just barely missing my pool-running buddy but getting thoroughly entertained by Jon Hamm’s old interview on WTF with Marc Maron. PT stuff at night.
Thursday: 6ish miles along the Embarcadero before work. Very steady and generally unremarkable, which is what I was hoping for as my mid-week mileage went up again.
Friday: Rest. The restiest rest day that ever rested, at least for a workday; I milked every available second of sleep.
Saturday: 38-mile bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge, through Sausalito, around Paradise Loop for the first time since Wildflower training, and back. More on this later, but it was a tough ride, psychologically as much as physically. I had a lot of fear of crossing the bridge on a bike, dating back to when I had fear of doing anything on a bike, and it turned to be not completely unfounded. But there were no real disasters, nothing to actually stress about, and I’m working on thinking of it as a big leap forward in my riding skills and confidence (versus, I dunno, three hours of getting teeth filled sans novocaine).
Sunday: Easy-peasy cutback week long run of 8.4 miles, done at about 10:03/mile pace. I felt strong, and I let myself take a few miles faster than advised, but seriously, seriously this time, I am going to slow my next long runs way the heck down. Of note: After some post-bike-ride Achilles soreness, I ran in calf sleeves for the first time, and I think they might be made of magic (or they provide a placebo effect that is made of magic — either way). Also of note: between the lavender calf sleeves, the bright purple Adrenalines with teal laces, and all the Lululemon I own, I managed to put together one of the douchiest running outfits of all time.
Week Eight by the Numbers
- 19 miles run (actually more like 20, adding up all the little point-whatevers), plus “five” in the pool
- 38 miles biked, my second-longest ride ever
- Five post-run open houses visited
- Four varieties of lemon-lime powders purchased to try in the bike water bottle
- Three minutes I managed to wait before digging into my post-ride sandwich in the car, avocado flying everywhere
- 6,208 hours of Olympics coverage watched. What, that’s not possible? I question that.