Running Groups

I have been in a funk, and haven't had much to say about running lately. As I've tried to figure out how to get my groove back, two people have recommended that I join a running group. Here for your entertainment are the specific suggestions made by my friend Bill, a former runner, about how to find just the right group and make a good impression:

1. Don't join a group of annoying people.
2. When you introduce yourself, say something like "Hi. I'm Patti. From the looks of your huge ass, I suspect I can run faster than you."
3. Ask them how often they stop for smoke breaks.
4. Never miss an opportunity to remind everyone that "There's no 'I' in 'Team.'"
5. Let everyone know you're serious by wearing all the gear you can find. Heart monitor, fancy watch, headband, spandex running suit, a couple water bottles strapped to your waist, sun glasses, reflective vest and some ankle weights. Try to find some blinky lights.
6. (Deleted by editor. Trust me, it was funny.)
7. Make sure you're eating a pack of Twinkies when you first meet them.
8. Say you want to name the team "Hannah Montana" because you LOVE her! Wearing a Hannah Montana shirt at the time is definitely a bonus.
9. Ask if you can borrow a lot of money from anyone.
10. Offer to give everyone a makeover, because they "could definitely use it."

VCM Relay Team!

So back in January when I thought I would be running the full Vermont City Marathon, my friend Maria thought it would be fun to enter the relay and have her relay team run alongside me for the the full race - motivation, camaraderie, company. Apparently I needed those things far before the race itself, because I my training was... lame, nonexistent and I decided not to run VCM after all.

But wouldn't you know it, Maria got a team in the relay lottery and now I am one of the runners on the team Patti's Pacers. The irony is rich.

The five-leg relay course lets you divvy the distances among your runners however you choose. I lobbied for two legs, so I'll be running about 12 miles:

• Leg 2, the Beltline: one of my favorite parts of the whole course, this out-and-back leg gives every runner a chance to see every other runner in the entire race. For back-of-the-packers, it's a pretty good thrill to see the fastest of the fast coming at you as you're heading out
  

• Leg 3, downtown and south end: the best and the worst leg. Pluses: running down Church Street, neighborhoods with water hoses and trays of oranges, bagpipers on Pine Street, cruising into Oakledge Park and then coasting up the bike path along the water. The minuses? Pine Street is mostly not attractive, the South Cove Loop is a cruel joke. Some might put Battery hill in the latter category too, but I have good memories of heading up this hill every time I've run it. And this time I get to hand off the relay bracelet as soon as I get to the top!
  

Check out the course map here.

To Gu, or not to Gu?

I've had a cardboard box of 24 Gu packets that seemed spawn its own replenishing supplies, it lasted so long. But now, it sits empty in my recycling bin, taunting me to consider whether I will run distances long enough to require more Gu anytime in the near future.

I went to the Marathon 201 class tonight, despite having stopped training for the marathon weeks, and felt a twinge of embarrassment. Today was the Boston marathon, and it gives a boost of excitement to the VCM runners who are entering their high-mileage weeks and contemplating their longest runs. I contemplate whether I will, in fact, knock off a few miles before my commute home. Sad.

So in this mindset of feeling like a quitter, but not quite ready to commit to another long race, I sat and listened, mystified, as Jack Pilla told the Marathon 201 class about his exploits racing 50 miles, 100 miles. Running in the dark, running through thousands of feet of elevation changes, sleep deprivation, dehydration, hallucinations. He enters marathons as 'training runs' - sometimes he does the course twice, or runs home afterward.

Someone asked how his pace changes from a flat marathon distance (6:20 miles) to a hilly 100-mile course (10:30 miles). And then said something that made me daydream for about 25 seconds: sometimes it's easier for slower runners to adapt to really long distances.

Huh.

Up to that point, I'd been thinking that I would give myself a break from marathons because the distance is too much pressure. Try half-marathons for awhile, then take another shot at the full 26.2. But now I wonder if I have it backwards. Maybe I should try something insanely big, and then go to back to the easy-by-comparison marathon and kill it.

This fantasy started to feel less enticing when Jack detailed the medical checkups and severe physical distress. Passing out in a desert canyon called Devil's Thumb, having your feet turn to hamburger, getting blood work done at Mile 88 to ensure your physical limits haven't been maxed out.

Not so sure....