News
One of the keys to a successful training schedule is flexibility. By allowing yourself the freedom to switch, move, substitute, or cancel a scheduled workout eases the mental load of an otherwise rigid routine. Being overloaded at work or just plain overcommitted can result in less “you” time, and exercise can be the first to go.
I keep a bottle of Wite-Out close to my training schedule for that specific purpose: to adjust and alter my workout routine to better accommodate my weekly work and/or social schedule. I get out the little bottle with the spongy-tipped stick and make frequent adjustments, sometimes with nothing written on the dried, white crust to replace the “erased” run, leaving it blank and signifying a day off.
This past weekend, my latest crusty training schedule concluded with the Georgetown Half Marathon — more accurately the “Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon,” because we actually left the town of Georgetown and took a little stroll over to Idaho Springs. We ran through a residential section, stumbled across a gravel road, sailed down the smooth frontage road and even caught a portion of a soft dirt path. All of which seemed way more difficult than barreling down I-70 in my car, which up until now was my only experience with the miles connecting the two small mountain towns.
I pulled my training schedule off the bulletin board and reviewed the past 10 weeks. The paper was stiff and wrinkled, spattered with white, crispy dabs signifying the (possibly excessive) flexibility in my schedule. There were arrows pointing this workout to that day, replacing this with that, and extra Wite-Out crust on the weekends where the only exercise I accomplished was my husband and I riding our bikes downtown for a beer.
The days preceding a race are typically filled with a lot of stretching, hydrating, some easy running, hiking, and my typical pre-race neurotic behavior. I worry about stubbing a toe or twisting an ankle; I overdose on vitamin C and try on 10 different sets of running clothes.
It is at this point in my race preparation where I overanalyze my training and agonize that I might not be ready. I shouldn't have taken so many “rest” days, should have run farther and faster, and possibly should have skipped the SmashBurger yesterday. I read everything as a sign, and it's those signs that will dictate how the race will go.
I made the trip to Georgetown with my support crew on Friday afternoon. My mom, stepfather, and I trek across the mountains under a beautiful clear sky, the traffic is light, and we have no car trouble. That was a good sign.
We check in to our hotel, grab a free sample of vitamin C drink, and enjoy a nice, early dinner after picking up my race number and timing chip in Idaho Springs. My dinner is packed with carbs, protein, light on the goopy sauce, and very tasty. Another good sign.
We return to the hotel, where I commence my pre-race routine of fidgeting, modified yoga stretches, and setting, checking, and double-checking three alarms. I lay out my clothes and shoes as if I were going to slide down a pole in a fire station and run out the door in a matter of seconds. Everything is in its appropriate spot in the hotel room as to assure the routine is followed, i.e., no banana gets left behind.
Race morning, three alarms go off, I'm up, dressed, and ready to run. The in-room coffee is tasty; the out-of-room temperature is crisp, and these are two good signs. My support crew takes me to the race start, where I continue to fidget and stretch. I chat with fellow racers, drop off my transport bag, and line up for the start.
The signs from the proverbial race gods change to actual visual signs signifying the miles passing by as we make our way from Georgetown to Idaho Springs. The scenery was gorgeous and the support stations were instrumental as we conquered the high-altitude course from Point A to Point B.
Climbing the last hill and rounding the final corner, I was exhausted and my lungs ached. The crowd cheered, and I spotted my parents. I crossed under the Finish banner, which was a sign that I'd made it; the excitement on my mom's face as she cheered for me was a sign that I was a champion. And those are definitely good signs.
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Elizabeth Schnittker and her husband, Chris, own and operate Running Tracks, the valley's specialty running store located with Single Tracks on the circle in downtown Fruita. Elizabeth is grateful for her support team and thanks them for the pizza and beer after the race. Chris and Elizabeth welcome your questions and comments at rfrdepo@aol.com.
I keep a bottle of Wite-Out close to my training schedule for that specific purpose: to adjust and alter my workout routine to better accommodate my weekly work and/or social schedule. I get out the little bottle with the spongy-tipped stick and make frequent adjustments, sometimes with nothing written on the dried, white crust to replace the “erased” run, leaving it blank and signifying a day off.
This past weekend, my latest crusty training schedule concluded with the Georgetown Half Marathon — more accurately the “Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon,” because we actually left the town of Georgetown and took a little stroll over to Idaho Springs. We ran through a residential section, stumbled across a gravel road, sailed down the smooth frontage road and even caught a portion of a soft dirt path. All of which seemed way more difficult than barreling down I-70 in my car, which up until now was my only experience with the miles connecting the two small mountain towns.
I pulled my training schedule off the bulletin board and reviewed the past 10 weeks. The paper was stiff and wrinkled, spattered with white, crispy dabs signifying the (possibly excessive) flexibility in my schedule. There were arrows pointing this workout to that day, replacing this with that, and extra Wite-Out crust on the weekends where the only exercise I accomplished was my husband and I riding our bikes downtown for a beer.
The days preceding a race are typically filled with a lot of stretching, hydrating, some easy running, hiking, and my typical pre-race neurotic behavior. I worry about stubbing a toe or twisting an ankle; I overdose on vitamin C and try on 10 different sets of running clothes.
It is at this point in my race preparation where I overanalyze my training and agonize that I might not be ready. I shouldn't have taken so many “rest” days, should have run farther and faster, and possibly should have skipped the SmashBurger yesterday. I read everything as a sign, and it's those signs that will dictate how the race will go.
I made the trip to Georgetown with my support crew on Friday afternoon. My mom, stepfather, and I trek across the mountains under a beautiful clear sky, the traffic is light, and we have no car trouble. That was a good sign.
We check in to our hotel, grab a free sample of vitamin C drink, and enjoy a nice, early dinner after picking up my race number and timing chip in Idaho Springs. My dinner is packed with carbs, protein, light on the goopy sauce, and very tasty. Another good sign.
We return to the hotel, where I commence my pre-race routine of fidgeting, modified yoga stretches, and setting, checking, and double-checking three alarms. I lay out my clothes and shoes as if I were going to slide down a pole in a fire station and run out the door in a matter of seconds. Everything is in its appropriate spot in the hotel room as to assure the routine is followed, i.e., no banana gets left behind.
Race morning, three alarms go off, I'm up, dressed, and ready to run. The in-room coffee is tasty; the out-of-room temperature is crisp, and these are two good signs. My support crew takes me to the race start, where I continue to fidget and stretch. I chat with fellow racers, drop off my transport bag, and line up for the start.
The signs from the proverbial race gods change to actual visual signs signifying the miles passing by as we make our way from Georgetown to Idaho Springs. The scenery was gorgeous and the support stations were instrumental as we conquered the high-altitude course from Point A to Point B.
Climbing the last hill and rounding the final corner, I was exhausted and my lungs ached. The crowd cheered, and I spotted my parents. I crossed under the Finish banner, which was a sign that I'd made it; the excitement on my mom's face as she cheered for me was a sign that I was a champion. And those are definitely good signs.
-------------------------
Elizabeth Schnittker and her husband, Chris, own and operate Running Tracks, the valley's specialty running store located with Single Tracks on the circle in downtown Fruita. Elizabeth is grateful for her support team and thanks them for the pizza and beer after the race. Chris and Elizabeth welcome your questions and comments at rfrdepo@aol.com.
