But I got out of work early today, and when I got home it was still light out and Pete was asleep. I put on my sneakers and jogging shorts so I couldn’t change my mind while I checked the celebrity gossip blogs, and then I set out for my usual route around the artificial lakes.

Turning a corner about halfway through my run, I saw a father and his two small sons, probably neither more than five, fishing in the lake. The father was doing something with one of the lines, and the older son was solemnly holding the second line while the little guy watched his dad. Right when I passed them, the younger boy yelled and I whipped my head around just in time to see him drop what looked like a small sunfish right onto the lakewall, where it flopped until it landed into the pond. “Aw, man,” the boy said, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

The only other people I passed were a middle-aged couple with their Queensland Heeler and a girl who was just leaving her house. She was dressed for exercise but was also wearing a sweater with a faux-fur collar, which stuck me as odd. I figured she was out for a walk, and it has been much cooler here lately and there is good reason for a sweater (Yes, it’s dropped below fifty degrees Fahrenheit at night and I’m calling it cold. I am officially an Arizona girl.)

That last third of my run was very difficult. The rule I have given myself about running is that I can run as slowly as I need to, but I am not allowed to stop or walk. I stick to this rule except under extreme circumstances, like when I see the great blue heron that lives on the lake, or when there is a full moon in the afternoon sky. My reasons for running aren’t so much my cardiac capabilities as my mental health, so pretty nature scenes take precedence over a regimen.

The only other reason I pause is stoplights. There are two on my route, one about five minutes in and the other about five minutes before I’m done. I like this method; some days I catch the lights and other days I don’t, so whether I push through or take a break is up to random chance rather than my willpower. Today I didn’t catch the light and I was grateful. Just as I stepped up to press the pedestrian button, the girl with the faux-fur collar came jogging up behind me and called out, “You were inspiring me! The whole way I was following you going, ‘Yeah!’” I grinned at her, surprised and gratified. I didn’t know what to say really, but I called after her, “Good luck!”

After the light turned green I sprinted home.

There were two aspects to the race that stuck out during last years jaunt.  There are 50000 competitors.  50000.  That is a LOT of people, and this makes it easily one of the largest road races in the country.  In fact, it takes almost 80 minutes for every competitor to even cross the starting line!  Not once in the race does the race spread out enough that you feel isolated.  At any point in the race, there are a lot of people around you.  It’s both good and bad, although I found that I liked it a lot, as it felt more like a party than a race, and the whole thing felt very social.  Fortunately, this race is chip-timed, meaning that your recording your own specific time rather than following a master clock.  Your time starts for you when you cross the starting line.  This alleviates the almost guaranteed chaos that would take place otherwise.

The other part of the race is the part that everyone dreads, and it goes by the name of Doomsday hill.  At about mile 5 of the course, there is a huge, very steep hill, which you see approaching about a mile prior to the hill.  This gives you the lovely opportunity of staring at this monstrosity and thinking about the pain that is to come.   Living in Pullman, WA, however, has its benefits.  This place is nothing but hills.  Any run that I go on has hills of some kind somewhere, so I never have to go out of my way to get my hill workout in.  It proved very beneficial in both last year’s Bloomsday and the Portland Marathon, which both had a couple of really bad hills.

Spokane has been, in my eyes, a city of contrasts.  It’s similar in size to Boise (where I grew up), but I’ve never held it in the same esteem in which I hold Boise.  There are areas of Spokane that make me feel very uncomfortable.  Many of my negative thoughts about Spokane vanished after my Bloomsday experience last year.  The course was beautiful, the people were amazing, and the city very hospitable!  I’m looking forward to running this race again, along with tens of thousands of others!

My training last week was good, not great.  I had some heel pain (long-time Achilles injury), and ultimately decided that it was in my best interest to skip my weekend long run.  It was disappointing, but my history with injuries always causes me to err on the side of caution.

Mon 3/30:  3.83 miles.  I ran the first 1.5 miles at a very hard, sustained 7:20 / mi pace, which I paid for by burning out shortly afterward and shuffling the last two miles, and then being in pain and exhausted that night.  Too far too fast…  Need to dial that back.  I took the next day off, as my legs felt like rubber.

Wed 4/1:  2.69 miles at 9:36 / mi pace.  Lots of hills, took it easy overall.

Thur 4/2:  4.79 miles at 9:06 / mi pace.  This run went really well, and felt strong through the whole thing.  Couple of big hills, no issues running up them.

Fri, Sat off.

Sun 4/5:  Ran 1.5 miles with girlfriend, who I appear to be conning into joining this wonderful sport!  Was planning another run of my own, but decided against it due to the heel.  That was frustrating, but that’s the way it goes sometimes…

Back next week!

Getting involved with cross country and track in high school has evolved over the years into running becoming both an addiction and a way of life.  A major focus of my posts on this blog will focus on this sport, with my insights into a sport that I’m finally starting to feel a little knowledgeable about, as well as updates on my training.  With the snow finally going away, I’m moving into a very big running year, with three major races planned, including my second marathon!

My goal is to post last week’s training regimen every Monday, with other posts about running topics, or potential diversions into music, science, and some nerdy stuff.

I’m currently trying to build mileage (up to 30+ a week) and consistency, with an attempt to increase overall speed as my body permits.  I also have been walking to and from work, adding 3 miles of walking per day.  My running for last week ending Sat, March 28th:

3/23:   2.89 miles, average 9:11 / mi pace.

3/24:  3.03 miles, average 9:39 / mi

3/25:  2.63 miles, average 9:00 / mi

3/28: 8.41 miles, average 9:01 / mi

Total mileage = 16.96 miles, plus another 15 miles with the walking

My training begins!

It also got me thinking about the amazing growth of soccer in this country. I remember when I first started playing soccer, in sixth grade or somewhere around there, soccer existed pretty much only as a one-day event in junior-high Physical Education classes. Today, my hometown of Boise has a huge network of soccer clubs, centered around a 20-field, 161-acre complex donated by J.R. Simplot to local soccer organizations.

And its not just Boise… just this last month the U.S. MNT scored a 2-0 victory against archrival Mexico in a completely sold out Columbus Arena, pushing our national team to a ranking of 6th in the world. Sure, Columbus Arena with its 35,000 or so seats is no Estadio Azteca, reigning over Mexico City’s soccer world with games attended by upwards of 114,000 of the faithful; but a sold out national arena for an American soccer game hasn’t been seen since the days of The Pele (and yes, he gets the definite article in front of his name).

Young Americans are swelling the ranks of youth soccer clubs all around the U.S., and the so-called “soccer mom” has a become common enough to establish itself as an American archetype. True, there are many who still say soccer is a sissy game beneath the manliness of American sport, and ESPN *did* drop the Ireland-Cyprus game for something called “baseball,” and I have to admit that football will never be unseated from the lion’s share of media broadcasting (because it stops every fifteen seconds to allow networks to make another hundred million off of commercials), but nay-sayers will have to face a growing truth within the decade: there’s a new American sport in the making, and as the tired, the poor, and the huddled masses yearning to be free come to America, the beautiful game’s world following will ultimately ensure its popular victory.

Soccer next weekend anyone?