running shoe review

It’s funny how the normal can be viewed as “weird.”  I’ve always had numerous running shoes all over my house, garage, and closets.  They only last 200-300 miles and then they’re retired for my walking pleasure.  My fiance, every so often, makes a funny comment about the shoes strung all over the place.  He’s never seen the likes of it.  Well, he hasn’t lived with a runner, now has he?  Fortunately, he actually thinks it’s one of my cute qualities, so I’m safe.

So here’s my collection of shoes for the year.  I’ve worn Mizuno Precisions for years.  They’ve changed the model ever so slightly.  The result is 2 missing toenails–my second toe on each foot.  No more Precisions.  I hate looking for a new shoe.

The winners this year:

Long run training days:  Mizuno Wave Riders

Shorter tempo runs:  Mizuno Precisions  (until this last pair of shoes) and Brook Burn

Track workouts:  Nike LunaRacer

Race Day:  Saucony Fast Twitch

Every other day?  My Reef flops.

long run gone bad. hail storm to prove it.

I’ve been wanting to write something for the past few days, however I’ve been a victim of “uneventful days” that lead to mere memos instead of, well something a bit more interesting.  Well, here it goes.  Every runner has bad days.  It makes us “tougher”…we think.  This morning I heard the gentle call of my alarm clock at some god awful hour.  Obviously not thinking clearly, I gently rolled over to the comfort of my pillow and heard my fiance whisper a few words.

The weekly drill is simple:  wake up early to meet my best runner pal, Ashely for our Saturday long run.  However, this week she was planning to leave for a 5k in Jax (normally I would go, but being adamant about swearing off racing for awhile, I opted out.  No, I’ll stick to my long run solo.  Besides, 14 miles at an easy pace will no doubt be easier than balls to the wall for a 5k.  Yep.  That settled it.)  This morning, I made an amateur mistake.  I forgot about the Florida heat.  “No problem” I thought.  It’s just an extra hour of sleep.  When clarity finally reached me, it was too late.  I knew it was going to be a “long run.”  The average temperature for the days prior reached 96 degrees with a heat index of over 100 degrees.

For those of you who have never ran in Florida, especially in the summer, here’s a quick lesson.  Never, never underestimate it nor think you can compare it to anything else.  We Floridians have no idea what it means to be cold or to run in a snow storm.  We just don’t.  We may think we know, but northern runners would probably laugh at the sight of our suffering when it’s 30 degrees.  Well, summer runs in Florida are anything but textbook.

I started my clock at 8:20 am with as much hope and positive thoughts as I could muster.  The little voice in the back of my head was faintly asking me to wait till tomorrow morning and just keep it at a 6 miler.  I quickly told the voice to “shut up.”  It’s Saturday.  Don’t wuss out.  Mile one felt pretty normal, although I could hear that the crickets were singing a much different song.  The air was thick.  I was already dripping with sweat.  If you pay attention to the wildlife, early mornings have a different feel.  Every creature is hustling and bustling for a last minute drink of water from the left over dew.  Later, they must prepare and find retreat from the inevitable.  By this point, the birds were quieting down for the day.  I reviewed the plan in my head:  3 mile warm up followed by a 5k at a quicker pace,  pit stop for a drink, 3 miles easy, another drink stop, with 5 more to finish, pace determined by how I feel.  Yep, that makes 14.

I reached my 3 mile intersection knowing full well that I had no more tree cover.  The sun was high enough overhead.  I set out to pick up the pace.  I was amazed that I was running 7:40 pace.  Not that great, but just hold on.  Finish at this pace and worry later about the rest of the run.  I knew my fiance, Haskell would be at the 6 mile intersection for the gatorade handoff.  Then again at the 9 mile intersection.  I ran by the giant clock with the thermometer.  I know it’s accurate.  Runners own the darn clock and are fickle about the hourly statement it projects.  It read 89 degrees.  I had 10 more miles to go.  I reached the finish of my 5k segment.  My watch was cruel.  I made it under 24 minutes, but barely.  My eyes wildly searched for Haskell’s truck.  I could see the heat waves rising up from the road ahead that looked like smoke colored apparitions.   I ran to the truck and bent over watching the sweat pool on the concrete.  He handed me the bottle and started to talk.  He said something about “being worried because I was late.”  I threw my head back and gulped as my taste buds wept with joy.  “Can’t talk” I thought.  Need more of this sweet ambrosia.  I reluctantly handed him the finished bottle.  He assured me he would have my second bottle ready at mile 9.  I headed off.  I felt a bit more refreshed but that slowly waned.  I reached mile 9, but I couldn’t find the bottle.  I searched for a few more seconds.  I’ll just have to run home.  It’s only a half mile off course.  I puttered home and opened the door.  I muttered that I couldn’t find the bottle.  He quickly made me a glass and handed me some ice.  He told me again where it was. I’ll catch it on the way home.  Away I went to finish my 5 mile segment.  With 3 miles to go, my stride had changed.  I was now doing what I like to call the “death shuffle.”  It’s a hybrid stride that’s part jog coupled with a shuffle to give it a humorous look to oncoming traffic.  My form had changed so much I was noticing the strange feeling around my sport bra from the friction burns.  I staggered up a hill and saw a lady that I recognized from my morning runs.  She was walking her dog.  She said hello.  It took everything I could to grunt a few words.  “I like the heat” she said…”Do you?”  I knew I would have to stop my watch.  I couldn’t be rude.  “Yes, I like the heat, but not today.”  I explained briefly with my parched mouth that I was finishing a long run and the heat was not my friend at the moment.  “I live right up there.  There’s always water bottles there next to the bench.  Help yourself any time or day.  I always keep them there.”  I couldn’t have been more relieved.  I wanted to hug her, but refrained as that would have been plain ol’ weird from her point of view.  I hobbled to the unopened water bottles and drank 8 ounces.  Enough to get me home.  I concentrated like never before as I shuffled down my street.  I practically crawled to the garage door.  Relief poured through me as Haskell’s smiling face greeted me.  Thank the running gods, home sweet home.

Destroyed legs, friction burns and mineral depletion led me to dream land as I quietly fell asleep.  I awoke to the sound of rain.  A few minutes later, extreme thunder and lightning violently moved in.  The heat collided with the front as I watched the hail pelt the parched grass on my front yard.

Verdict rendered:  you will hereby be punished by the blue blazes of the hellish summer sun should you choose to ignore your alarm clock.  Lesson learned.

this runner girl will toast to that!

It was indeed a day of celebration.  Yours truly turned a year YOUNGER and managed to stay in her women’s age group division for race day registration!  Thanks to my wonderful beau, the celebration was even more amazing when he ordered an Italian Red, “Brunello di Montalcino.”  This runner girl was in heaven.  I got to thinking:  with the extra caloric intake, was there any benefits to be had?  I, being the practical runner, can quite easily ruin a perfectly scrumptious dessert or bottle of wine by succumbing to thoughts of nutrition and calories.  Well not this night!  Luckily from the research done a few days prior (from a spontaneous early birthday celebration, because one can never celebrate too much) I was able to feel pretty good about my love of red wine.

A recent article in my favorite magazine, “Runner’s World” showed the mounting evidence that moderate alcohol consumption for athletes offers some real health benefits.  And red wine takes the win.  (Beware, next paragraph is somewhat boring.)

“A Harvard Medical School study found that the cholesterol-fighting antioxidant resveratrol, present only in red wine, produces the same life-lengthening effects as calorie reduction. Other research has determined that red wine is full of flavonoids, which are antioxidants that lower the risk of heart disease. And scientists at the University of California-Davis have recently discovered plant compounds called saponins in wine that block the body’s absorption of cholesterol. Nearly half the average daily intake of saponins is present in a single glass of red wine (white wine contains less), and the higher a wine’s alcohol content, the more saponins it provides.”  For runners, a glass of wine can take the edge off of tired, achy legs.  While not improving strength, it offers psychological benefits and calm pre-race jitters.  Deena Kastor drank a glass of wine the night before taking the bronze in Athens.  However, all research states the obvious that the key is moderation.

And here’s something even better:  A real life application that has me chomping at the bit!  Every year, 8000 marathoners run their 26.2 miles as they sip red wine offered at the water stops!  Where could this fantastic event be held?  Non other than the Medoc Marathon in Bordeaux.  The course winds through 59 of France’s most prized vineyards and elegant chateaus.  It doesn’t end there.  The aid stations forgo sports drinks and offer up Lafite Rothschild!  Winners take home the prize purse of more wine than they can carry.  Runner girl knows where her next marathon will be!  The additional affirmation added to my weekly training:  “Pace yourself.”  Seems fitting.

Back to the close of my birthday evening:  All of the celebration of course led to finishing off the lovely bottle with a keepsake cork as a token from the evening.  The rest of the night?  Well, what’s a girl to do with such fine company as her fella!