Brain Baker: The 2013 Cleveland Marathon - My Last

Running with Ladd at about half way               photo by Christine Gantz

It's twenty miles into the Cleveland Marathon, and I'm having a bit of an epiphany: I'm going to make it. My second thought comes in on the heels of that one: it's not going to be pretty.

My watch tells me that I made it to this point in 2:40:19; an eight minute per mile pace. Were I to continue at this pace, I'd finish the race in close to 3:30. 3:30 had been my goal all along, but at this point, I realize that that goal may as well be 2:41 as far as that's concerned. The relentless sun and heat had gotten to me, and I had already been slowing down slightly with every mile since eleven. After trying with all my might to make it at least to mile twenty as close as possible to my goal pace, I had done it, but I am thoroughly used up.

Now with just ten kilometers to go, I know that I can walk, if necessary, and still make it to the finish. And finishing is far more important than any particular time or place. As noted in an earlier post, this is the second time I will have completed my first hundred marathons. Not that I want to slow down; quite the opposite. I still want to run a decent time today, and I mostly want to get out of this sun and heat. But I'm experienced enough to see the writing on the wall: it's going to be a very long, hot six miles. I don't see how I can possibly avoid slowing down further.

The reason the main epiphany itself is so important, however, is because there had been times, especially recently, where the outcome had been still very much in doubt. Now it wasn't - I'd get there no matter what.

The day had started only a little more hopeful. It was already warm when I arrived downtown at 5:15 am. I met up with a gaggle of Medina County Road Runner club members for the annual group photo by the wind turbine. It was nice to see everyone. Then Ladd Clifford and I made our way through the crowded Browns stadium, over to the starting area. Once there, we met up with several additional friends and chatted away until the gun went off.

It was already quite warm and humid, but at least the sun was behind some clouds. Ladd and I had planned to go out with the 3:30 pace group and "see what happens". Ladd wanted to do 3:25, but I'd convinced him that negative splits were the way to go. "We can always pick it up after half-way and make it in 3:24." I said. He listened, but for some reason seemed a little dubious. Ladd and I had run good parts of the Cleveland Marathon together each of the past three years. It had worked out well for both of us, so why not do it again?

Naturally, once we started running, we forgot all about any and all plans, got well ahead of that 3:30 pace group and wound up on the heels of the next one, the 3:25 group. This felt fine at the time, but having gone out too fast for perhaps 85 out of my 99 previous marathons, I was a wee bit concerned.

I became a little more concerned when the sun came out to stay about an hour into the run. This is also about the point where there is no more shade on the course. At about mile eleven or so we approached the Lorain-Carnegie bridge and that 3:25 group got ahead of us to stay. It was simply too much work to try to keep up with them in the heat and the slight uphill grade of the bridge. Ladd didn't seem too concerned, and I was trying to enjoy the huge iconic statues on the bridge whilst huffing and puffing my way along.

We spotted a few friends cheering us on, and passed the half-way mark in 1:42:40. How's that for being on pace for a 3:25? But that heat was already beginning to take it's toll. I seemed to be working harder and harder. And now the pace would get even a little slower. By about mile 16, I told Ladd to go on; to not let me hold him back. He wasn't feeling his best either, but he did get ahead of me.

Will Bertemes was running with the 3:30 group as they came up from behind me. That's always discouraging to be passed by a pace group. I stayed with them and ran close to Will for a while, but they eventually left me behind. Scenic Rockefeller Park is always one of my favorite parts of the course. It's pretty and offers some much needed shade. Shade that had been missing for the past hour or so. It's also the location of the twenty mile mark. Around here I passed Ladd again. He was having some cramping problems. I also passed Larry Orwin, who was in exactly the same predicament. I was sad to think the these two guys were not going to make their time goals. I wished them luck for the remainder of their runs.

Not that I was going to make my own time goal. I knew there was absolutely no way that I was going to be able to continue at that eight minute pace, so I started thinking about trying to make it in 3:40. I'd have an hour to cover the final 10K. That would be quite doable, I thought. So long as I didn't stop and walk.

By mile 21, every muscle fiber in my body is telling me to stop and walk. But I know that if I do that, even my new modest time goal will be out the window. More importantly, stopping to walk will keep me out in this sun that much longer. There is simply no easy way out of this. The only direction is forward. Now that we're out of the park, that sun is back to doing it's job of killing me.

I pass Will and run by spectators Jeannine Nicholson, Lloyd Thomas, Vagn Steen and Kevin Jones. They all cheer me on, and Vagn even runs with me for a bit.

Miles 22-24 are a blur of heat and continuously slowing pace. I want to walk, I want to walk, I want to walk. But I don't. I have another epiphany: I may never have this feeling ever again. You know the one: the feeling that you're part of a death march in hell;  the feeling of being so hot that it seems as if your brain is baking. 'Brain Baker', in fact, seems to be a good term for this entire race. Especially for me, with my lack of attic insulation. In retrospect, I really don't know whether I'll have the feeling again, but it will be less likely, as I'm doing races of shorter duration than marathons.

Will passes me again. I spot Connie Gardner at mile 25 as she stops at the aid station. She had passed me, and now I am almost about to catch her again. I am on the other side of the road and don't  have the chance to say some stupid smart remark to get her mad at me, as I have been known to do. I don't have the energy to say anything anyway. As she starts up again, she gets ahead of me to stay.

I had been slowing more and more, and now only have eleven minutes to run the final 1.2 miles and finish in under 3:40. On any other day, a one mile run at nine minute pace would be a piece of cake. Today, I'm not so sure. I'm no longer sure why I thought that latest particular time goal was important anyway.

As I make the turn onto East Ninth Street, I feel an enormous sense of relief. Even though I still have 3/4 mile to go, it's nearly all downhill. I pick it up, nearly falling forward. I try to catch Connie and Will, but to no avail; they, and nearly everyone else around me is sprinting now too. I make the final turn and head for the finish. The official clock is ticking past 3:40, but my watch, started when I crossed the start line, is still in the 3:39's.

I can't possibly describe the relief it is to stop running. The heat had been almost unbearable. Even so, my body temperature must still be high. I'm guzzling water and not cooling down. I finally do as I'm driving home with the windows open.


The immediate results show me in fourth place in my ancient age group. Examining the data a little closer, it appears that they have both my gun time and chip time at 3:40:13. My chip time should be about 50 seconds faster, and this difference would put me in third place instead of fourth. I send a note to the Cleveland Marathon, and they do eventually correct my time, and now list me as third. Once again, I'm not entirely sure why any of this is significant. John Wooden, the basketball coach of the UCLA Bruins in the 1960's and 1970's was concerned about his team getting too full of themselves as they marched toward another NCAA championship. He told them, "Remember that there are 500 million Chinese who don't even know you are playing." I think about this whenever I'm tempted to take myself seriously.

So that's it. I'm done. With marathons, that is. And I'm not the least bit unhappy about it.

You Get to Celebrate Twice

A few years ago we had a semi-big celebration when I hit a century mark of running: 100 races of marathon length or longer. The year was 2010, and I had done 85 marathons and 15 ultras. I was careful to let everyone know about those precise numbers. But what happens, I asked Lou Karl, who was at the time well ahead of me in his count of marathons and ultras, when you hit 100 actual marathons? His answer was, naturally,  "you get to celebrate twice!"

So that's what I'll be doing when and if I complete the Cleveland Marathon this Sunday: I'll be celebrating the second time I've run 100 marathons; it will be my true hundredth marathon. I have also completed 21 ultras. As I'm fond of telling anyone who will listen, my first was also the very first Cleveland Marathon in 1978.

This will also be my last marathon. I've told enough people, so now I've decided to announce it here. My plan is to stay competitive, but to stay away from marathons, as well as most other large gatherings of runners. I've got nothing against marathons or crowds per se, but I just think it's time to move on to new challenges. New challenges such as getting better at shorter races, like 10K's and 10-milers; that sort of thing.

I'd been thinking about marathon retirement for quite some time, but the thing that put me over the edge was recent information about excessive running - especially marathons - actually becoming harmful to one's heart health. This TED Talks video sums it up nicely. John McCarroll and I have been exchanging this kind of information, and it got to me.

I do plan to never stop running. Just not quite so much.

Today's Tremendous Tempo Training Trot

I'm awake and out of bed at 3:20 am. It seems like I either sleep in (till the late hour of 5 or so) or wake up well before my 4:00 am alarm as I did today. When this sort of thing happens, the first thought that pops into my head is always something like: "good - now I have more time, and I can get some additional miles in." I decide that my minimum mileage goal for today will be 15, but that 17 or 18 wouldn't be bad either.

I also feel the need for speed. I've been working on this quality thing lately, and I think it's finally beginning to pay off... a little. After achieving this new age a week ago (I won't say how old I am, but here's a hint: the State of Ohio automatically sent me my new Golden Buckeye Card), I decided that I wanted to kick some age-group butt the very next day at the Medina Run-4-Fun 5K. I did manage to beat the new set of geezers, but just barely. And my time, 22:07, was not that great at all - it was just about in the same range as the previous two 5K's. But I still think I'm doing better by just running these 5K's and also by trying to run hard on the mill. That mill is nothing like real life, but it's had to do. Maybe I'll start getting to the track now that the weather's so nice. Today I decide that I'll try to do a tempo run.

Try is the key word. Tempo runs are generally defined as 20 minutes or more of continuous running at about 10-mile to half-marathon pace. For me, this has nearly always been interpreted as at least three miles at sub-seven minute pace. The trouble is that other than on the mill and those races, I haven't been able to get anywhere near seven minute pace. Why not, you ask? My pat answer has always been that I can't run seven minute miles because I can't even run seven-thirty miles.

But the 5K's were around that pace. And I'm losing weight with the Fast Diet thing. So I decide that I WILL DO IT TODAY!.

After the coffee, Powerbar, pushups, crunches, checking of email and Facebook, I don't get started running until a bit after 5:00 am. Now I don't have as much time to run as if I'd started at some reasonable time like 4:30. But it is what it is. I still have time to get 15 in, and finish between 7 and 7:30.

Why is that important, you ask? For a guy who doesn't have many major responsibilities (work has been nearly non-existent these days), it really isn't. But the constraints I put on myself are still out there. The thought is that a) traffic begins to pick up between 6:30 and 7:00, b) I kind of like to catch the news on the Today show at 7:00 am, and c) I can't remember the other reasons.

After three easy miles to the high school, I do the same thing I always do when I arrive: check to see if the track is open. Today it's closed, as it nearly always is these days, except when the football team practices in late summer and fall. So instead of hitting the track, I begin to run loops around the school.

It's 3/4 of a mile around, and I usually do five loops. I finish the first, and then ingest an energy gel and some water. Now it is time to get serious. If I can do four loops in less than 21 minutes, I'll be able to consider it a successful tempo run. And as noted, this hasn't happened for me in a long time.

Twenty-one minutes divided by four gives us a goal of five and a quarter minutes per lap. Can I do it? The first one feels fairly easy at first... until the second half. I stagger back to the start and check my watch: 5:10. Good. As I begin the second one, things feel a little easier. I come back again in 5:10. The third lap feels tougher, and I have to pick it up for the second half of this one. I come across in, you guessed it, 5:10. Now I'm feeling fairly confident as I begin the fourth and final one. I have a little breathing room - I can run as slow as about 5:30 and still beat 21 minutes. But everything will feel better if I can maintain the same pace. That pace, however, has gotten tougher to maintain. Somehow I do manage it, though, and complete the loop in 5:11. Pretty consistent, wouldn't you say?

Well that was exhausting! After I catch my breath, I begin to head home. If I go straight in, I'll wind up with ten miles. Remember, I wanted to do at least fifteen. I could head home and then back out again. Or, I can take a detour up to North Park, do some loops around the lake there, and then back home. This option keeps me from the temptation to quit earlier than planned (this happens to me at times, especially if I'm returning home before I've run as much as I wanted); if I can get up there and do the usual five laps there, and then run home, it'll be just about fifteen miles total.

So of course I opt for the longer way home. I'm running slow miles to get up to the park, but as I begin running around the lake, I manage to get down to eight minute pace. That isn't bad, but by the time I have completed those laps and am ready to head home, I'm pretty tired. How am I going to get through these last four miles?

It isn't pretty, but somehow I do manage to get back home. This turned out to be one of my better training runs in a long while.

The Need for Substinance

One of the things I admire most about my wonderful wife is her ability to make up words. One of my favorites is 'substinance' as in, "I need some substinance, right now."  I believe the word is some aggregation of:

• 'subsistence' (the means by which one maintains life)

• 'sustenance' (means of sustaining health or life; nourishment)

• 'substance' (the tangible matter of which a thing consists)

When I pointed this out, her comeback was, "you know what I meant." Indeed I did; end of discussion.
I needed some substinance during this morning's run, and when I didn't get it, I bonked. I generally associate bonking with longer runs, but today it happened just seven miles into my eleven miler. Up until that time, I'd been thinking of doing something on the order of 23 miles. But 11 would have to do today.
It shouldn't have been a surprise; there's been a whole lot of bonking going on lately - ever since I began the fast diet a week ago. Here's the problem: I fast on Monday and Wednesday. My Monday runs have been bad because I'm usually still recovering from the weekend's running, and also because I don't take the usual fruit or other carbs just prior to the run. My Tuesday runs have been bad due to lack of substinance the prior fast day. My Wednesday runs have been bad for some of the same reasons that my Monday runs were, and my Thursday runs have been bad for some of the same reasons the Tuesday runs were.
Now then, I did have a good run this past Sunday where I did about 22 on the towpath with some MCRR friends. That was fairly encouraging after an otherwise so-so week. And I'm still very much sold on the general concept of the fast diet. But I do recognize that contrary to statements by the authors, the lack of calories on those fast days does indeed have an deleterious effect on my exercise performance.
Yesterday was my third fast day since I began, and it was the easiest yet. I'm losing some weight. All I really need to do is figure out this running thing.

Don't Think About Food

Of course food is what I'm going to think about when I'm fasting.

It's my second day of fasting for the week. In case you're wondering what I'm talkin' about, I'm trying to follow the fast diet. Monday, the first day, really didn't go all that bad. It was just like the book said: it isn't as hard as it may appear. But the book also said that it gets easier. That has not been the case for me today. Maybe next week will be when it gets easier.

The Fast Diet -- I Thought it Was Supposed to Help Me *Run* Faster

I am reading the Fast Diet by Michael Mosely and Mimi Spencer. It's about the joy and benefits of intermittent fasting. There's a Huffington Post article about it. There is also a PBS Program that initially got my attention.

Now then, just possessing a diet book doesn't guarantee that you will lose weight. Even keeping it close by doesn't necessarily help. And I've now learned that even reading the dang thing, in and of itself, won't do the trick for sure. One actually needs to follow the advice for there to be any benefit at all. Isn't that a bummer?

We're going to find out just how much of a bummer it is. It's supposed to be not too painful, this fasting business. You only fast for two non-consecutive days per week, and you don't totally fast - just restrict yourself to 500-600 calories for those two days. And that's it - you can eat normally for the other five days.

The book gives all sorts of rationale. Besides weight loss, the fasting is supposed to help one's heart, aging and brain function. I won't trouble you with all those details, but suffice it to say that I'm absolutely convinced. The book also provides some suggested diet specifics for the fast days, as well as some encouragement.

And so I'm finally taking the plunge; today's my first fast day. I've been really apprehensive about this whole thing, but maybe it won't be so bad. The plan is to have a salmon salad for lunch, and then a couple eggs with asparagus tonight. Yes, I might just be able to do this.

I was only kidding about the diet making me faster. But then, if I lose even a couple pounds, maybe that will be another benefit. I'm not counting on this a whole lot, however. What I am counting on is racing myself into shape, in addition to simply stepping up the training.

I did run a small 5K in Brunswick (the Race for Blue Pride) yesterday. Even though there was a decent turnout, very few fast people showed up. I wound up as the second male (a girl passed me in the final mile). My time was 21:28. This time seems pretty slow for me, even these days. But it was cold, and the course was a little on the long side. My first two miles were at 6:30 pace, and I really didn't slow down all that much. I'll take it. And there will be more shorter type races to come.

Maximalism

Hoka One One shoes like mine, from the Hoka website

There's been a lot of talk about minimalism in the past couple years. Running shoes are a changing, some piecemeal, some radically. The 2009 book, Born to Run by Christopher McDougall, seems to have been the catalyst. I absolutely loved that book. I thought the minimalism information was fascinating, but the storytelling was even better.

In some ways, I've been a minimalist from day one. I never carry a cellphone, a water bottle or anything else that I can get by without. I wear as little clothing as I can legally get away with. I don't even have a working GPS device. I try to run from home rather than drive to a run whenever possible - this even though my nearby running routes are devoid of large parks, trails or tracks.

And I do like light shoes; I've been experimenting with a couple different models. I'm generally fine with the minimalist movement, so long as we don't go too far over the crazy-cliff. Some cushioning is a good thing, I say.

But in other ways, I'm at the other end of the spectrum. Even though I'm reevaluating this, I generally prefer high mileage to the alternative. I run as many group runs and races as possible. And I wear Hoka One One shoes.

The Hokas certainly look like the opposite of minimalist shoes. There is an enormous amount of volume in the midsole. They're simply huge! The heel to toe drop, however, is four millimeters, the same as for many of the 'barely there' models. And they're relatively light in weight. This always comes to a surprise to anyone trying them on.

Even though I've got nearly 400 miles on my Hoka One One Stinson Evo's, as far as I'm concerned, the jury's still out on them. I don't wear them every day, but when I do, I have the sense that my body doesn't take quite the beating as it does for shoes of less cushioning. I'm not even entirely sure about this point, however. When I wore them for the Buckeye Woods 50K, as well as several training runs before and after that, I appeared to wind up with knee problems as a result. There was a suggestion that I try wearing an orthotic with them, and I've been doing this for the past couple weeks. This does appear to be helping to stabilize them, and my knee is better, but as a result, the shoes have taken on more weight. So instead of being bulky but light, they're bulky and heavy. Bottom line: ask me in another couple hundred miles.

Other ways in which I'm more maximalist and minimalist can be illustrated by some of the things I've been heard to say from time to time:

"Give me all the carbs that you removed from that low-carb meal"
"Give me the gluten that you removed from that gluten-free meal"
"Give me all the darkness, heaviness, hoppiness, maltiness, etc., that you removed from that beer in order to make it a 'light beer'"
"Give me the thickness that was removed from that thin pizza crust"

And so on.