On recovery, hurricane edition

Hurricane Sandy is giving me extra time to think this morning, which is pretty exciting. The time to think part, not the soaking rain part. Although, it’s sort of forced recovery, which is something that I’m in dire need of, especially after last week’s utter failure at recovery.

The original Hal Higdon plan did not slate this past week to be true recovery. The 10 miler race was part of the training plan, but the race apparently kicked my rear because the rest of my training this week lacked both quality and quantity. Although, I switched the day of the long run to maximize enjoyment at a Saturday night Halloween party, which tipped the weekly mileage to 23 for the week.

The Richmond Half is less than two weeks out, and I’m starting to pressure myself to have a good final long run this weekend, as though that’ll be a sign of how the race itself will go. Then I come back to Earth, breathe, and tell myself that the most important things are that I’m running and that I’ll be spending the weekend with two of my favorite people. 
Last week by the numbers:
Sunday: 10 miles & 1 hour restorative yoga.

Monday: 1.5 hours Iyengar yoga. There’s something a little messed up about going to an Iyengar class taught by a Rolfer the day after a race. At least it was “restorative” by Iyengar standards. Which is to say it was a lot of stretching.

Tuesday: 5 miles. 3 miles. Holy dead legs, Batman. This was a shuffling limp, not anything resembling a run. As I shuffled along the Reflecting Pool towards the Lincoln Memorial, I resisted the urge to tell everyone who ran by me that I had PR’d in the Army Ten-Miler two days ago, and that’s why I was shuffling. Not because I got 5 hours of sleep the night before.

Wednesday: 45 minute tempo. Rest. Okay. This training plan is made for superheros or something. Not mortals, at least. After Tuesday’s shuffle, I resolved to do a better job at recovery and rested on Wednesday.

Thursday: 5 miles & 1 hour Pilates reformer. 3 miles. This was my second attempt at 5 miles this week, but my legs were still dead. Yeesh. Recovery is not easy. Earlier in the week, I was hoping that I’d get called off the wait list for the Pilates class. Sure enough, half an hour before class, I got the call. Except by then I had my heart set on making spaghetti squash with garlic shrimp for dinner, and I opted for a pre-8pm dinner over Pilates. I don’t regret it. I also had no idea how I’d run 11 miles on Saturday if I could barely shuffle.

Friday: Rest. 1 hour vinyasa yoga. 

Saturday:  11 miles. 7 miles. My body continues to be uninterested in recovery. It is, however, interested in maintaining a certain unmaintainable pace, if that makes any sense.