Amy Reinink

I’m all packed up and ready to go to the Daiquiri Deck Tropical Splash Open Water 5K Swim in Sarasota, Fla., tomorrow!

This time tomorrow, I'll be doing this.

I had a nice, easy swim yesterday to loosen up my muscles. I’m taking today off, which makes sense for traveling, anyway. I’ll leave my parents’ house in (relatively) nearby New Port Richey, Fla., by 5 a.m. (gulp) for the start tomorrow, shortly after 7 a.m. I haven’t quite put in the training yardage/meterage I’d hoped to for a number of reasons, including a week or two off for a tweaked shoulder, so I’m treating this as a catered open-water workout at which my sweet, kind husband and parents happen to be cheering for me from the sidelines.

The course starts and finishes on the beach. The 5K race (there’s also a 1K and 2.5K, whose competitors are undoubtedly saner souls) follows the shoreline out and back, then repeats the same 2.5K course. Last year’s results show that a whopping 10 women competed the race, with times ranging from 1:16 to 2:06. I’ve swum close to 30-minute miles in previous open-water swims, but I’ve been better-trained for those, and am promising not to beat myself up if this race time includes a little bit of double-arm backstroke.

I’ll post race updates and photos as soon as possible (read: once I’ve spent some well-deserved time relaxing on the Daiquiri Deck). Wish me luck!

A runner-friend of mine once referred to whole-wheat pasta as “the dinner version of oatmeal.” With the Daiquiri Deck Tropical Splash Open Water 5K Swim in Sarasota, Fla., on Saturday just around the corner, leaving me seeking healthy sources of carbs that are easy on the stomach, I’m inclined to agree. Dinner before Outdoor Emergency Care class last night was whole-wheat pasta with pesto and tomatoes; tonight, I’m eying the butternut squash I picked up along with other fall goodies with my CSA this week.

See the butternut squash on the right side of this week's CSA offerings? It's not long for this world.

This hot, hearty pasta dish is my absolute favorite use of winter squash. That says a lot—I put puréed pumpkin in my oatmeal with cinnamon and sweetener, stir puréed butternut squash into my soup, and serve slices of roasted kabocha squash alongside just about anything I’m having for dinner. I fueled Ragnar, D.C. in part with pumpkin-dark chocolate bread. If there’s a not place for winter squash in a recipe, I create one.

With that said, here’s the recipe for the yummiest orange thing to ever come out of my oven:

Roasted butternut squash with penne

Peel and dice one large butternut squash.

Toss diced squash in 1 TBSP olive oil; juice from 1/2 lemon; 2 TBSP minced garlic; and cinnamon, nutmeg, red pepper flakes to taste.

Bake for about 45 minutes at 375 degrees. I like it a little crispier, so I leave it in for about an hour.

Top a bowl of whole-wheat penne with the diced, roasted squash. Top with Parmesan cheese, plus a sprinkle of sea salt, pepper and sage. Devour.

What’s your favorite use of winter squash?

Most runners understand the gist of Ragnar, and are familiar with the overnight relay series’ motto:  Run. Drive. Sleep? Repeat.

If you've seen the motto emblazoned on Ragnar tents and brochures, you get the gist of the race.

That motto accurately sums up my experience participating in Ragnar, D.C., last Friday and Saturday, so I’ll spare you the mile-by-mile race report (though I will be writing a first-person account of the race for the next issue of Washington Running Report, which I’ll post a link to here once it’s live on its website). Instead, I’ll offer some lessons learned for people considering the relay—and some reasons why it’s something worth doing if it sounds appealing to you.

Lesson 1: The sleep deprivation is worse than you’re imagining. Did you just readjust your idea of how bad the sleep deprivation will be? Good. But it will still be worse than you’re imagining. Sleeping bags, pillows, earplugs and sleeping masks seem like overkill before the race. Trust me—you will want them.

I get tired all over again just LOOKING at this picture, taken shortly after we woke up in a church parking lot.

Lesson 2: Your demons and physical quirks come along for the ride, so be honest about them beforehand. I have a sensitive stomach that flares up when I don’t sleep, during long runs and when I eat unfamiliar foods. I also get motion sickness on long car rides through winding and bumpy terrain. I get migraines, also exacerbated by sleeplessness. Why was I surprised when my body behaved accordingly during Ragnar?

Lesson 3: Bring a wide variety of food, and assume that you will crave whatever you didn’t bring. I brought some snacky foods (candy corn, gummy bears) and some healthy meals (whole-wheat couscous with veggies, apples and peanut butter), but resorted to a steady diet of animal crackers, Chex Mix and Pepto Bismol straight from the bottle by the end of the race.

I brought this stuff. I wanted other stuff.

Lesson 4: Staying hydrated is a physical challenge in and of itself, especially if you face record-breaking high temperatures, as we did last weekend. As one of my teammates put it, “you are not drinking enough water until it’s coming out your ears.” And you can never bring too much water. We wasted precious sleeping time finding a convenience store where we could buy several gallons to restock.

Lesson 5: The same teammate noted that “snacks are not meals, and will not sustain you as such.” Besides $6 plates of spaghetti from the Clear Spring High School cafeteria for dinner, we refueled by grazing on snacky stuff, which gets old fast.

Spaghetti dinner at Clear Spring High School.

All of that said, if you think Ragnar sounds like fun, it’s worth trying. Here’s why:

The costumes and van decorations are fun and outrageous.

Our trusty rental van.

It is one big outdoor adventure, from the trail runs to the pseudo-camping we called sleep. I ran up a mountain, through two state parks and forests, along quiet, winding country roads, through blistering heat and through the cool dark of night in a span of 24 hours—how many other races can you say that about?

Overlook courtesy of my trail run up an 800-foot hill in Green Ridge State Forest.

And there’s something to be said about the sense of camaraderie borne of teamwork, shared trauma and matching reflective vests.

My teammates greeted me with water and cheers at the top of the aforementioned hill.

Some things I’m glad I brought: Febreeze Sport. Deep Woods Off. Foot powder. A dry set of clothes to change into after every run. Lots and lots of baby wipes.

Would I do it again? Never say never, but … I’m going to go out on a limb and say never. When I finished my first marathon, I immediately started looking for my next one. I think this is more of a “cross it off the life list” kind of thing. Maybe I’ll feel differently in a week or so.

Am I glad I did it? Absolutely. And if the premise sounds like fun to you, you’ll be glad you did it, too.

Team cheer after crossing the finish line.

Have you run Ragnar? What did you learn from the experience you wish you knew beforehand?

Hey! What do you say me and you grab 10 friends, rent two vans, drive 200 miles into the boonies, then take turns running five or so miles until we get back? We’ll make up for the lack of showers and sleep with slap-happy exchanges and junk food.

Most sane humans would laugh, shake their heads “no,” and back away slowly. But because we runners are the sorts who constantly seek out new things that make us want to puke and die, as my friend Katie of Run This Amazing Day puts it, I, along with 11 of my running buddies from Pacers Silver Spring Fun Runners, will embark on a 24-hour, overnight relay from Cumberland, Md., back to D.C., starting tomorrow morning.

Here’s how it’ll go down, according to Ragnar’s Web site:

“During the relay, each team member runs three legs, each leg ranging between three to eight miles and varying in difficulty. Each team is responsible for providing two support vehicles, with six runners in each vehicle. The first vehicle will drop off the first runner, drive ahead a few miles, cheer the runner on, and provide them with water, snacks, and plenty of love. That vehicle will then drive ahead to the first exchange point to drop off the second runner, and pick up the first runner when that leg is complete. They will repeat this pattern for six legs until they hand off to their second vehicle. This leapfrogging pattern will continue all the way to the finish line.”

I’ll be running third, starting with a 6.9-mile leg labeled “very hard” through Green Ridge State Forest, and has one climb of 250 feet (which I’m used to) and one of 800 feet (which I’m not). But then, all I do the rest of the race is an easy, flat 2.8-mile leg through Williamsport, and another 3-miler through Clarksburg. Not bad, right?

I truly have no idea what the race will bring, so in lieu of a preview, I offer my personal packing list, which I’ll amend post-race to reflect lessons learned:

Flashlight
Headlamp
Reflective vest
Pillows, earplugs, sleep mask (thanks to Brian of A Runner’s Blog for this tip! Check out his race report from Florida Ragnar for more information)

First-Aid kit including Advil, Tylenol, Body Glide, Band-Aids, motion-sickness pills

Running shoes, several changes of running clothes, sweats, flip flops, sunglasses

Garmin, iPod, chargers

Every Nalgene bottle I own, full of water

Toiletries including toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, Kiehl’s toner, deodorant, baby wipes, sunscreen, bug spray, foot powder

Shopping list: Apples, grapes, almonds, dates, Nutella, gummy bears, candy corn/mellocreme pumpkins (because it’s better to consume these with a large group of hungry people than alone)

Cooking list: Whole-wheat couscous with raisins, pine nuts, tomatoes, peppers

Baking list: Whole-wheat sourdough bread, banana-dark chocolate bread, pumpkin-dark chocolate bread.

Banana and pumpkin breads, ready to go.

I found this helpful Running Times story with tips for distance relays. But I’m eager for tips from experienced Ragnar runners: What was the best thing you brought, or the thing you most wished you had? How many changes of running clothes is enough? What did you *really* want to eat in the middle of the night?

I’m a total commitment-phobe when it comes to races. I pick my target events early. I get all hot and heavy with training, motivated to run longer and faster by the mere thought of the event. I hang race brochures and course maps above my desk. But I usually do all of this without actually registering for the event in question, waiting until the last possible minute (often, the morning of the race) to sign up. In a few instances, Steve and I have waited so long to register, we end up starting the race *after* the starting gun, relying on our chip times and the quick work of race officials to record our splits.

I downloaded the Daiquiri Deck's logo in July for motivation. I signed up for the race Friday.

As with most commitment issues, mine stem from past heartbreak, when injuries foiled my plans to participate in half-marathons and open-water swims I signed up for months ahead of time. So it’s with no small amount of pride that I announce that I officially signed up for two races in one day on Friday, the Daiquiri Deck Tropical Splash Open Water 5K Swim in Sarasota, Fla., on Oct. 2 and the Marine Corps 10K, a companion race to the Marine Corps Marathon on Oct. 31.

Grinning ear-to-ear before the Marine Corps Marathon last year. I signed up early, because I knew I could defer.

There were a few different distance options for the swim, and my signing up for the longest distance is a bit of a leap of faith—as in, I have to squeeze in a long swim sometime this week to make sure I can cover the distance. As for the 10K, making another attempt at successfully nailing this strange middle-distance race will give me a reason to stop ditching my running workouts for time on the stationary bike, which lets me read my Outdoor Emergency Care (ski-patrol medical) book while I work out. This means a long swim today, and a speed workout on Wednesday.

My date this afternoon: Wilson Aquatic Center's pool.

First up, though, is Ragnar D.C., which I signed up for with my running buddies months ago. We leave on Friday (Friday!) for the 200-mile, overnight relay. Stay tuned for the race preview later this week.

Regular readers know I’m a little bit obsessed with sports psychology. It’s amazing to me that, in sports and in life, being aware of your thought patterns and squashing negative thoughts can lead to measurable gains in athletic performance (and notable gains in joy once the workout’s done). So I’m always excited when I get to interview sports psychologists and the athletes they counsel, knowing I’ll benefit from the tips I’ll pass along to readers.

Before running the Rock ‘n’ Roll Virginia Beach Half-Marathon on Sept. 6, I based my goals on some tips from Colorado sports psychologist Stephen Walker, whose clients have included athletes like Kara and Adam Goucher.

Today, I’m putting together the story for which I interviewed Walker, and I’d like to share another of his tips.

Walker advises athletes to think about what they’d like to keep in mind during a race or event, and then to imagine there’s a dashboard in front of them cycling through those reminders, similar to a screen on a treadmill cycling through pace, distance, calories burned and other measures. “Athletes at every level can benefit from rotating through a mental list: How’s my form? How’s my rhythm and tempo? How’s my breathing? How’s my arm work?” Walker says.

Elite Runner Kristen Fryburg-Zaitz, who has worked with Walker, says she used the technique when she finished eighth in the 2010 USA 20K Championships (time: 1:09:56, her personal best), cycling through reminders including: Believe in yourself. Believe in your abilities. Believe in your training. Embrace the pain. “If you have a negative thought, you just go back to focusing on the dashboard,” Fryburg-Zaitz says. Her dashboard also included some physical cues.

My mental dashboard would be blue and red, like my VW's.

I’m still figuring out what should go on my dashboard. Certainly, I’ll remind myself to focus on rhythm, stride and arm work on hills. I’ll recall the mantra I developed during some other adventures in sports psychology, “strength, power and grace.” I’ll let you know the rest when I figure it out.

What would go on your dashboard?

Leading up to the National Half Marathon a year and a half ago, I followed my training schedule to the letter, carefully monitored my diet and treated my long runs like important dates, working the rest of my schedule around them rather than the other way around. I even nixed the idea of a ski trip to Lake Tahoe, thanks to its timing the week before the race.

There are races like that one. Then, there are the races that creep up on you. Like forgotten birthdays, you know when they are, and you know they’re coming—you’re just a little surprised when they actually get here. Like Ragnar D.C. on Sept. 24-25, which I signed up for with my running buddies months ago. My teammates took care of purchasing gear for and divvying up the legs of the 200-mile relay while I was on vacation, making it easy for me to stay in denial about it until, like, now.

Course map for Ragnar D.C. Sept. 24-25. I'll run three legs of the 200-mile route.

We each run three legs of the 200-mile, overnight relay, with each leg ranging from three to eight miles. This means that, whether I feel motivated or not, I’ve got to get my butt out for at least one more 10-miler before the race. Ideally, I’ll also work in a couple hill workouts to prepare for the relay’s varied terrain.

Just writing that makes me groan a little. But deep down, I’m grateful to have a reason to challenge myself in my workouts for the next two weeks. It’s not that I’m cramming, per se—I did run the Rock ‘n’ Roll Virginia Beach Half-Marathon on Sept. 5. It’s just that I haven’t been taking my training as seriously as I probably should be.

I know I’m not the only runner to have a race creep up on them. Runner’s World even had a feature recently offering training tips for going from maintenance training to race-ready shape safely.

What’s your strategy when a race creeps up on you? Also, if you’ve run a Ragnar relay: Any tips for what to bring, do, eat, wear, etc.?

Scene safe! BSI (body substance isolation)!

Hi, I’m Amy, with Whitetail Ski Patrol. Can I help you?

What seems to be the problem? Can you point to exactly where it hurts?

Do you have any allergies? Are you on any medication? Any past medical history I should know about? What’s the last thing you ate? Can you tell me more about the events leading up to this?

I’m actually not with the Whitetail Ski Patrol … yet. That’s why this script is in the process of being seared into my mind—because I am a ski-patrol candidate (candidate is to ski patrol what pledge is to a fraternity), and am spending about four hours every Tuesday and Thursday night learning how to assess and treat patients on a ski slope through Outdoor Emergency Care Classes. When the OEC classes end, ski and toboggan training starts.

I mention this in part to explain why my posting schedule has been a bit irregular, but also to provide a window into what actually goes into training to be a ski patroller. OEC, roughly equivalent to EMT-B training, means twice weekly four-hour classes that are more intense than I could have imagined, but also more fascinating. Steve and I have been members of the Mountain Safety Team at Whitetail, in Mercersburg, Penn., for the past two years, so we know the mountain pretty well. Turns out we don’t know the human body and everything that can go wrong with it quite so well … but we’re learning.

Being part of Whitetail's Mountain Safety Team let us ski through last year's "snowpocalypse."

Ask me where the liver is, and the answer’s on the tip of my tongue (Right Upper Quadrant!). I can take a pulse in your foot. I can perform at least a poor approximation of a rapid body survey, or a quick exam conducted on the hill, and am practicing it so much, even Steve, my husband and OEC classmate, has started to refuse care—erm, tell me to quit it and let him watch TV.

Stay tuned for more about this latest active outdoor adventure of mine—which will eventually let me help others continue *their* outdoor adventures, too (or at least help them get to safety when their adventures go awry).

It’s tough to start a recap of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Virginia Beach Half-Marathon without a sentence like this: This race is SO much fun!

Regular readers know that I adjusted my race goals to match my recent training (read: a summer of dedicated training, followed by a two-week vacation to Europe and a week of frantic catch-up pre-race). My main goal on Sunday was truly to have fun. This is the kind of race at which that’s almost a given.

The expo was as huge as any marathon expo I’ve seen, with dozens of vendors peddling discounted running gear and distributing free samples, but its location in the ginormous Virginia Beach Convention Center meant it never felt too crowded. The race T-shirt is a nicely-fitting, well-designed Brooks number that’s already earned a spot in my “favorites” stack in my workout-clothes drawer. The medal is also nicely designed, sparkly and beachy and reminiscent of the day itself.

The course is truly flat, but for a short, gentle incline over a bridge to the beach. And it’s pretty, but for a weird portion that winds through Camp Pendleton base housing. I’m sure that portion is brutal on hot, sticky race days, but it was simply boring on Sunday, and was balanced by plenty of stunning beach views, not to mention that awesome boardwalk finish.

The Rock ‘n’ Roll Virginia Beach Half-Marathon is a standard Competitor Group event, for better or worse (read about the finer points of “worse” in this Running Times story about the Rock ‘n’ Roll franchise). My first marathon was the Nashville Country Music Marathon in 2007, so I knew what I was in for, and welcomed the hyper-organized, if predictable, race formula. There’s a time for popsicle sticks at the finish, and there’s a time for evenly spaced corrals, ample, well-stocked water stops, and rock bands and cheerleaders at every mile. This race, I wanted the latter, and the race didn’t fail me.

As for my own performance on Sunday, it was pretty fabulous to throw pace expectations to the wind and make my goal to simply enjoy the race. The first couple miles were especially awesome—rather than keeping an eye out for a pace balloon or ogling my Garmin to make sure my pace was on target, I just smiled and watched the sea of runners flow through the streets. My only pace adjustments came when I slowed down to stay above the 9-minute-mile mark.

The laid-back attitude continued throughout the race. I took my time walking through water stations, not worrying about how many seconds I might be losing. I tuned in to the bands and cheerleaders (favorite cheers included this one at around mile five: “Hey hey! Ho ho! You’ve only got eight miles to go!”). When Steve met up with me to run the last portion of the race by my side, we chatted and joked for a while, as opposed to my usual routine of acknowledging him by wheezing or snorting in his general direction.

I squeaked in just under the two-hour mark—1:59:45, or 9:08-minute miles (yes, I sprinted down the boardwalk once I realized how close I was to the mark). That’s my second-worst half-marathon time ever, clock-wise, but the best time I’ve had running a half-marathon, fun-wise.

Photos forthcoming—I have none of my own, thanks to a semi-hectic race morning, but I’ll post some as soon as I can.

In other news, my apologies for posting irregularly recently. The day after we got back from Europe, we started Outdoor Emergency Care classes as part of our Whitetail Ski Patrol training. Stay tuned for details—and thanks for understanding!

So I’ve got this half-marathon this weekend.

I trained a whole bunch for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Virginia Beach Half-Marathon before I left for a two-week vacation to Europe, during which my workouts included grueling backpacking through the gorgeous peaks of the Pyrenees and long swims in the Mediterranean, with recovery foods involving tapas and sangria. Every once in a while, I’d work in a nice, easy run of indiscriminate pace and distance—and that’s about it. I haven’t run a single step since getting home last Sunday night, and the race is this Sunday morning.

Sangria=sports-nutrition powerhouse?

After listening to me whine about this predicament one too many times this week, Steve pointed out that I don’t *have* to do it. He’s totally right—but here’s why I am, and why I’m no longer whining about it.

This morning, I got to interview Colorado sports psychologist Stephen Walker for a story I’m working on. He offered some tips for weekend warriors about how to stay motivated through training and relaxed on race day, and these two really hit home:

• Walker says that “fitness in and of itself is reinforcement” for many weekend-warriors who run distance races.  “They appreciate the byproducts of living a healthy lifestyle: their brighter, more positive, attitude, the fact that they have more energy, the way they look and feel in clothes. The endorphins kick in when they’re out running, and they think, ‘Why wouldn’t I do this?’ “

Earlier this week, I wrote a post about how being fit and strong helped me make the most of an incredible vacation. Guess what got me fit and strong? Training for this half-marathon. Whatever happens on race day, my mission has already been accomplished.

Training for a half-marathon let me backpack through terrain like this.

• On race day, Walker says to “keep as relaxed as possible. Look around. Wave to people you recognize. Put a smile on your face. Drink it in, and have fun.”

I am so lucky to be able to run this half-marathon, and to be fairly certain I’ll finish. It’s a great opportunity for a beach weekend for me and Steve, and a great way to spend time with my running buddies who are doing the race, too. All that considered, Walker’s race-day advice sounds like a perfect goal for Sunday–and for every race I sign up for.

See you on the beach!