Monday, April 28, 2014

A Long Tale about a Short Run

Maybe we'll make it a short tale instead. Last year at the Race for Brunswick Blue Pride I did something around 21 minutes, and was the second male (but was also chicked). This year I ran over a minute slower (22 and a half), and finished well back in the pack. Although my first two miles were completed in about 14:08 or so, I can't seem to even do a sub-seven mile anymore. At least I'm consistent: each of my races for this year have been a steady minute to two (for the five-miler) minutes slower than last year.

Things can only get better, right?

Monday, April 14, 2014

Eight: the New Seven

For most of my running life, seven minute pace was the threshold. It was the pace where I would begin to go anaerobic; where I would begin to have difficulty carrying on a conversation. A more technical term for this is lactate-threshold pace. Yet another related word is tempo pace.

Tempo pace is the pace for a ten-mile to half-marathon race. Although there were times when I could run ten to thirteen miles as much as a half-minute per mile faster than this, three or more miles in a row better than seven minute pace was still a tip-top tempo training trot.

One other thing about seven minute pace: it's just about (actually about seven seconds slower, but let's not quibble) the pace required to run a three-hour marathon. Those who have known me for a while are aware that breaking three hours has been an obsession of mine for most of my running life. Until recently, that is. But that's another story.

Nowadays however, eight is the new seven. It's not impossible - I got down to eight-minute pace during some of today's miles, as well as the final six of Saturday's sixteen. But it is the pace at which I now begin to go anaerobic.

I really wouldn't be all that far off if I were to consider last year's ten-mile and half-marathon times. But I have a way to go to even get back that far.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Victims Rights 5K

I do this small, free, evening race every year, and it's never been pretty. Last night was no exception. I felt like I was going soooo much faster than I really was. And that last mile up Route 18 and into the wind is a doozie.

But it was good to see a few old running buddies that I hadn't bumped into in some time. And at least I finished in vertical fashion.