2025 Medina Turkey Chase - Guest Post by Turkey Tom

Editor's note: from time to time, we here at Dan Horvath's Running Blog invite guest posts. This is one such instance. Turkey Tom done good.

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Julie Boggs (Left) and Turkey Tom (Right)

"You have to act silly and run very slowly." Those were the job requirements set forth by Race Director Beth. "I was born to do this," I answered.

Race Director Brian helped me get suited up. We didn't want a wardrobe malfunction today, and the suit presented many such opportunities. Most importantly, I wanted to stay vertical for the entire run. I saw several of my friends prior to the start. They were surprised to learn that I was THE Turkey today. Evidently, we did a good job of keeping my identity secret.

Before the four-mile race, it was time for the one-mile kids' fun run. I started and finished the run, but I didn't do the middle. That's the hard part. It was fun to encourage the kids as they came into the finish.

The start

I gave myself a bit of a head start for the main event. But eventually, after oh, ten yards or so, the lead runners caught and passed me. I didn't think I would be the overall winner today, anyway. The deal at this race is that, if you beat the turkey, you win a shot at $100 off a pair of running shoes. During the race, several folks were surprised to see me. And, of course, to pass me. But pass me, they did. Several asked if I was "THE" Turkey. I said yes and gave them the thumbs-up. This, even though turkeys don't really have thumbs. And by the way, I didn't trip, but those turkey feet made running a little challenging.

Among those passing me were running friends Mallory and Michelle. We talked a bit and caught up. But catching up wasn't something I was doing well today. Having fun, yes. Catching up, no. Eventually, we finished. I let them get ahead of me so that they would have a chance at the drawing. Ain't I great?

Form Fartlek

Form Fartlek was the order of the day. I was at the track and my running partner du jour, Debbie Hicks had just left. I had a few miles to go, so the fartlek began. Here is a description of the activity. It's an excerpt from my book, Run a Lot.

Fartlek, aka Speedplay, is a distance runner's training approach developed in the late 1930s by Swedish Olympian Gösta Holmér. In its widely adopted contemporary forms, fartlek training alternates periods of faster and slower running, sometimes over natural terrain. It differs from traditional interval training by being less structured. To put it another way, traditional intervals can be thought of as speed work, whilst unstructured off-and-on speed running can be considered speed play, or fartlek. It can be done on roads and trails, and it may seem a little less exhausting. Most speedwork is best when done with friends; there is power in teamwork. Not to mention that misery loves company. This is especially the case with fartlek training.

From Galloway's book, I learned to do 'Form Fartlek' running. This is somewhat more structured than traditional fartlek, but it's also not the same as other interval training. The fast portions are done at close to lactate threshold pace, but it's not the same as tempo running either. After the warmup, I alternate fast and slow half-mile segments. The fast parts are faster than an easy training pace, but slower than 800-meter repeat pace. The easy parts are faster than interval recovery laps. The key point is that while I'm running the fast segments, I concentrate on my running form. Just thinking about it helps make it happen, but you can also apply some ideas about how to concentrate more on your running form.

Efficiency trumps sheer effort. Improve your form, and the speed will come naturally.

There. I successfully made it through that description of fartlek training without the slightest hint of a joke. I am known to have high ethical and moral standards. All types of toilet, potty, and other scatological humor are strictly off the table. (Maybe on the seat, but most assuredly not on the table.) So don't look for any fart humor here, I would never, ever say anything at all like, "I fartlek in your general direction." (See Monty Python and the Holy Grail if you haven't already) It would be beneath me. 

cissalC llaF Race Report

You know the feeling. You're walking in a grassy area, and the ground that had been relatively solid suddenly goes, squish. Yep. You stepped in dogshit. Dan's race is done, but this is a good metaphor for his day. Let's consider Dan's race in reverse order so that it might have a happy ending.

Dan has some chili, but it's cold. He shouldn't have waited so long, but he had been talking with friends, and he had to get his second AG award. He gets to talk a bunch with racer extraordinaire, Alan Dravenstott, whom he hasn't seen in a while. He also recounts Theresa Wright's excellent race with her and her husband, Gary. He sees several other friends, new and old, including Roberta Gangl and Rob Lisy, both of whom he hasn't seen in a long time. The Fall Classic is a race where everyone knows your name. And they certainly know Dan's.

Dan, Alan, Theresa (photo: Gary Wright)

The finish line magically appears at 1:53:24 after the start. It's been a tough one for Dan. Real tough. Somewhere between mile 13 and mile 13.1, Hope and John Hnat pass Dan like he was standing still. It's a great run for them, especially Hope, who had been injured earlier in the year. Of course, John (at the start) had been talking Dan up and sandbagging it all as usual.

Rob passes Dan in the final mile or two. Dan isn't surprised. Theresa passes Dan with two or three miles to go. After a few encouraging words, Dan tries to stay with her. It's not even close. She is moving, passing everyone by. Dan? Moving isn't a good word for what he's doing at this point.

The nice thing about this race, other than everyone knowing your name, is that the double-out-and-back course allows everyone to see each other on several occasions. Dan sees Alan go by a couple of times, and he's really moving along in second place. He sees his other friends as well - you know, the ones who will pass him later on.

Dan has to stop and tie his shoe near the one-mile mark. It may be the first time this has ever happened to Dan in a race. Not a good omen. He had been concerned about his recent lack of training. Thus, expectations had been low from the start. Such matters were discussed in Dan's pre-race blog post.

Dan's loot

2025 Half Marathons

The will to prepare

It’s packing time. The Fall Classic Half Marathon is just a couple of hours away, and I don’t have a thing to wear. Okay, that’s not true; I just have to decide what. Temperatures should be in the forties, which is perfect for running, but not so great for hanging around before or after the race. Some of the fundamental questions are:

How many layers? Short sleeves or not? Compression arm sleeves or not? Hat? Gloves?
What extra stuff for before and after? And don’t even get me started about gels, water, caffeine, etc.
All of this preparation brings me to one of my favorite quotes. It’s more about training than packing, but both are forms of preparation.

The will to win is nothing without the will to prepare

The quote is a variation of a saying attributed to several coaches, including Bobby Knight ("The will to win is not nearly so important as the will to prepare to win") and Vince Lombardi ("Everyone has a will to win, but very few have the will to prepare to win"). Another version is attributed to Tanzanian runner Juma Ikangaa: "The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare". The core idea is that desire alone is not enough; true success comes from the dedication to prepare and put in the hard work beforehand. This highlights that the effort put in before the actual event—the hard work, practice, and planning—is more critical than the wish to win itself. While most people want to win, far fewer are willing to put in the time and dedication to prepare.

Ikangaa, a sentimental fan favorite, finished second at the Boston Marathon three years in a row, from 1988 to 1990. He famously trained extremely hard, but was disappointed when he didn’t win. When he finally did win the New York City Marathon in November 1989, he explained his success with his famous quote. Reading between the lines a little, we can guess that Ikangaa always felt that he had the will to win, even when he didn’t. What may have changed when he crossed the line first is that he had worked even harder to prepare. (Read: to train.)

My packing preparation is now complete. I should be fine as long as I haven’t forgotten anything vital. I don’t think so. My training (preparation), however, is a different story. When I signed up for a bunch of half marathons early this year, I had been thinking that this one might be my best chance for a speedy time. But now I think it could be the slowest. 

Until now, it’s been a pretty decent year. My marathon times have been in line with recent years, and my half-marathon times have improved. Most were consistent, but the Hofbräuhaus Half at 1:47 exceeded all expectations. But my training in recent weeks has been almost non-existent. So expectations for today’s race are low. Very low. But that’s okay.

Steamrolled by women

"Hey, there's an old guy running with some beautiful women," goes the remark as the respective groups pass by one another. "They are probably saying the same about us," goes the further observation. This is, in fact, quite likely the case, and it's not the first time Dan has been in this position. But here's the thing: he likes it. 

Then comes the steamroller. The all-purpose trail through the Cleveland Metroparks had just been resurfaced, and the steamroller was there for the taking. It wasn't actually taken, but a photo was.

Steamrolled again. This time by Theresa Wright

It turns out to be quite the eventful long run. Dan needs to do more of these.

Dan and friends

Running in Nevada and Utah

It's about as bad a scenario as can be. Picture this: you're in Moab, Utah, and your wife (aka the Lady Adventurer) informs you that the Bears Ears Marathon is Saturday. Thirty-six hours away. This is the first you've heard of it, but it's immediately clear this would be a fantastic event. It's through scenic Bears Ears National Monument, a place you want to visit. It's downhill and the weather will be great. But then there's the downside: you're in no shape whatsoever, considering the marathon a week ago and another two weeks before that. Even so, you don't rule it out altogether just yet.

You're in Moab as part of a road trip to visit national parks. You've been to all of them now, so it's time to relax a little. But this decision is causing much anguish. How can you possibly miss such a great opportunity? You can, if you believe you probably wouldn't be able to complete the race. You've done some stupid things in your running career, but running the Bears Ears Marathon would rank near the top. It hurts, but you (very) reluctantly decide... I just can't. It would be folly.

There was some other running (but mostly hiking) along the way on this road trip. But not much. Here's a brief rundown.

Baker, NV - Just a couple of miles up and down the lonely, quiet highway. Nice sunrist.

Torrey, UT - About the same as Baker, but there were some big hills involved.

Moab, UT - Great place to run, especially considering that the marathon would be taking place down the road. The bike path leads all the way to Arches National Park. It also goes along the Colorado River. Running don't get much better.

Want to hear more about this trip? Check out the travel blog post.

Baker, Nevada

Moab Morning

InFirst Bank Veterans Marathon Race Report

It's all fun and games until the wall rears its ugly head. It becomes particularly unfun when it happens at mile 17, with nine whole miles to go.

Debbie and I drove three hours over to Blairsville, PA, yesterday. Blairsville is close to Indiana, PA, about an hour from Pittsburgh. Saylor Park, the race start/finish, is actually in Blacklick and is also close by. The weather was cool and mostly cloudy: just about perfect. After a brief ceremony to commemorate Veterans' Day, BOOM, the canon went off.

lining up just before the canon went off

And so did we. There were only around 150 marathoners and relay runners. The Half-Marathon starts a half-hour later. The course is an out-and-back on the crushed limestone Ghost Town Trail, and the scenery is spectacular. I took in the surrounding hills and rock formations, and the nearby beautiful Blacklick River. I don't think I could love any race more than this one. 

I ran this race in 2018 and 2019. I completed both under 3:50. I didn't think that was in me today, but perhaps I could at least beat 3:55. Sub-4 was my secondary goal. Reaching halfway at about 1:57, I had a good chance. I even picked it up a little after that.

But oh, that mile 17. I suddenly had to work much harder to maintain the steady pace I'd been running. Little by little, the pace became slower and slower. I kept telling myself I could still break four hours as long as my mile pace didn't slip above 10 minutes per mile. I kept loading up on gels and caffeine. Even at mile 25 at 3:45, with 1.35 miles to go, I wasn't sure I'd make it. After mile 26, my leg began to cramp, and I became terrified that it would stop me. I slowed down even more, but still managed to keep going and cross the finish line. 

Heading into the finish

My finish time was 3:58 and change. It would have felt a whole lot better had I run the first half slowly and the second half faster. But we don't usually know our best starting pace, do we? How much better might I have run had I not done Columbus two weeks earlier? We'll never know.

I still have to reiterate that this is one of my all-time fav races.

Got my medal and my beer

Psoa, ever have this before?

Way back in 2024, I published a post called, Psoa ... Don't Do That.  Therein, I found some stuff that applies right now. I first noticed it the other day... It hurts when I move my right leg forward. You kind of need to do that when you run. This could be due to an issue with my psoas, or it could possibly be something else. The psoas muscle winds from the side of the spine, around the hip to the front of the leg, and attaches (eventually) to the femur.  My pain is at the top front of my thigh. Prior to last year, I experienced it at the 2012 Sam Alpern Half-Marathon.

((My Dad's old Vaudeville joke: A guy goes to the doctor, saying, "Doc, it hurts when I raise my arm like this." The doctor asks, "Did you ever have this before?" The guy answers in the affirmative. The doctor then makes his diagnosis: "Well, you've got it again." ... 

Alternative scenario. A guy goes to the doctor, saying, "Doc, it hurts when I raise my arm like this." The doctor says, "Well then, don't do that."))

The main reason I'm concerned is that I have another marathon in five days: The Veterans Marathon in Blairsville, PA. It would be very helpful to be able to move my legs forward during the race. The pretty-good news is that, as of this morning's run, my condition seems to have improved. It's possible that the strength training and stretching are working.