A break ... from blogging, but not running

Tandem training is happening now ... for a both a speedy half-marathon and a triathlon.

The half-marathon will be first, next month in Los Gatos (just over the mountains from me here in Santa Cruz). The triathlon is the one I've been talking about for ages -- the Santa Cruz Triathlon (formerly "the Sentinel") in about three months.

Figuring out how to train for both while enjoying the spoils of summer at the beach is a challenge. Go for a bike ride or sit in the yard for a reading/sunbathing session? I've got to be honest, the serial killer book and a lawn chair won out last weekend.

Also, training for just a half-marathon -- I know, JUST -- seems almost like being a woman without a race. I could cover that distance tonight after work if I felt like it. In fact, I've done two half-marathon races in the past three weeks (more on those later) and taken no time off after them. So getting it through my head that I need to run a certain distance at a certain pace can be a tough sell.

The one thing I'm actually getting really into is swimming in the ocean. Yes, totally insane. Nuts. But it feels like such an accomplishment every time I finish loop around the buoys at Cowell Beach. Don't get me wrong, it's no fun when I'm out there. Sunday morning, I thought kelp that caught on my ankles was a sea monster. Sometimes I get little panic attacks from the cold, choppy water. But once I can touch the sand again and run up out of the waves, I'm ecstatic. And this weekend I may try swimming the Wharf, which is the full distance I will have to cover during the triathlon. Woot woot!!

Running-wise, it's time to update my iPod playlist and start cranking out the miles again. I know it's not ideal for some of the racing I'd like to do, but the weather's great and I have a couple running buddies who will explore some of the single-track trails I'm too cowardly to take on alone ... mostly for fear of getting lost.

Trail dance

Callie has been having a ball lately. The lucky pup has gone running nearly every day for the past week and she's loving it!

Last night we went for what should have been a quick'n'easy jaunt on the trails behind my house. It was my "break" after running six of the past seven days, including a 12.6-mile hilly trail run Monday morning. Plus I had 6 a.m. run plans with Leslie today.

So Callie and I set off with some music (for me) and less than 90 minutes of daylight left. We ran the standard 30-minute out-and-back trail, but went up the hill instead of turning back. We zipped through the golf course (I "flew" down the hills with my arms spread wide) all the while rocking out to my special mix of chick country music, Lily Allen and the like, 90s alternative rock hits and my sister's mixed CDs from Guatemala. God, we had fun!


We dropped into the park side of the Delaveaga trails and headed back toward the trailhead singing aloud. There weren't that many people out (by now it was almost 8 p.m.) so I wasn't too worried about embarrassing myself. Sure, some people did double-takes, but I couldn't hear them over my music and off-key, out-of-breath singing.

Callie trotted along just fine, occasionally darting after a bird only to find she was still attached to a leash and therefore unable to lunge far enough to catch her prey. She got a bit tired when I doubled back down a trail to add time (because a 40 minute easy run wasn't enough) but I sang to her and we did a little jig in the early twilight the tree canopy provided.

Eventually, we made it out of the forest and back into the neighborhood. After a quick stop at the dog park for water and a bathroom break (for Callie, really) we sprinted the last four blocks home and Callie got a nice kibble dinner with turkey burger drippings. All told, it was a 55-minute run, which I'm hoping was about 6ish miles (I felt like we were bookin' it!).



She was fully recovered in time for the morning run with Leslie today. I wasn't quite as well off, but I started chugging coconut water at Mom's suggestion and it's a great, natural sports drink. I'm hooked.

What do we run from?

Sometimes when I'm running alone in the woods, I hear footsteps behind me. Of course, this scares the hell out of me.

Usually it happens when I'm about seven miles away from the main road, totally alone and my iPod batteries are zapped. So it's just me and the trees... and the pounding of someone coming up fast on me.

My first instinct is to speed up to get away. This could last for quite awhile, but eventually I slow down because I'm pretty sure trying out-run someone for seven miles just isn't in me, no matter how scared I am. The footsteps following me seem to change pace when I do, but I try to remain calm. I don't look back. Maybe, if I don't see it, there is no monster.

But before too much longer my fears get the better of me and I glance back. At this point I'm fully prepared to use my neon yellow water bottle as a weapon. (Maybe I can blind him with Gatorade?) When I finally steal a peek over my shoulder, there's no one there. I get braver and turn all the way around to look. Nope. No one. I am still alone on the trail.

Yup, those were my footsteps echoing down the path. Ghosts? Or just me?

This recurring incident always leads me to think about why I run.

I tell people I run for fitness and that "runner's high" that feels so good. Food tastes better and coffee is even more delicious than normal. My calves look nice when I wear a skirt. My dog likes the exercise. It's healthy and relieves stress ... but am I running from something? I don't know -- maybe those ghosts of mine, and if that's the case, I doubt I'll ever out-run them entirely. At least I know that scary thing chasing me is only armed with a Gatorade-filled water bottle!