3,000

The sleet is coming down sideways, and I don't like it. I never enjoy cold rain or sleet. But at least I don't have far to go: three miles will put me over the top, and I think I can manage that.

It's December 31, and I needed these three miles to get to 3,000 for the year. In my previous post, I talk about being a numbers (read: anal-retentive) type. I guess I am. Now it's time to think about 2020: a new year and a new decade.

But one more thing about 2019. Those 3,000 miles were staggeringly slow. A full minute per mile slower than 2018. And THAT was slow as well.

So now I have my goal for 2020 and beyond: run faster!

Another Reason I'm Running So Much

Yes, the Brunswick Marathon is looming. But there's also this:

I've always been a numbers guy, and that makes me a little anal-retentive. If you've read other posts in this blog, none of this will surprise you.

Upon returning from our trip, I realized that to get up to 3,000 miles for the year, I'd need to average about ten a day for the final two weeks. Challenge accepted. I think.

So far, so decent. Here are the stats as of today.

24 on the 25th

The sky is pink and orange and blue. The beauty of it is fairly distracting, and distraction is what I need right about now. I'm starting my fourth six-mile out-n-back lap on the Lester Rail Trail, and my friends Michelle and Andy Wolff, having joined me for lap 3, are on their way home. I'm a little tired at the moment because:

1) I started running a bit before four, and it's now around seven-twenty
2) 24 miles is a fur piece - much longer than I've run for quite some time
3) I have been running a lot lately, and it's possible (nay, probable) that all the mileage (18 and 11 over the weekend, and 10 yesterday) is taking its terrible toll
4) I'm sure there are a bunch of other reasons, but my rattled brain can't think of them right now

With this morning light, I can now see where I'm going, Not that sight is so very important on a course where you just run back or forth. The trees are all decorated with heavy frost, and their white tint seems appropriate for this Christmas Day run. So do the patches of ice and crunchy snow along the way. Those did surprise me though; besides yesterday's frozen fog, we've had several other warm days. I decide not to think too hard about this.

Yes, it's Christmas. What better way to celebrate than to do this 24-miler? And hey, I've got the Brunswick Marathon coming up in a week, and I've got to be able to run that far.

But now I'm going slower and slower. With just a couple left to go, my shuffle turns into and ultra-slow shuffle. And then I slow down some more.

That's okay. I do manage to shuffle on back to the car, and then I'm done. Done done.

Merry Christmas!

Running in Israel and Jordan

Tel Aviv


Not much time. But in my quest to run at every location, I need to get out and do something. Anything. All I can manage is to run around the block, which is decent sized, for a grand total of one and three-quarters miles. It’s all tall buildings and expressway overpasses. This is all too bad, since there may have been some nice running along the seashore. The seashore that I couldn’t get to.



Haifa


This time I am indeed able to get to the seashore. It’s right outside the hotel you see, and there’s a nifty bike trail. For two different runs, I go north and south about as far as the trail will take me, which is 7-ish miles one day and 5-ish the next. I don’t know how the running will be the rest of the trip, but this here is pretty darn good.



Jerusalem


After an orientation run, I think I’ve learnt where to go. We’re here for four nights, and I plan to run each day if possible. This day I do get to a small park that’s near the hotel, but the paths are all curvey and not entirely runnable. Okay, now where to go? Back to the hotel, which seems surrounded by busy streets and freeways, and out the other end of the complex. I’m on a busy road that isn’t too very busy due to Shabbat and I turn into the Hebrew University area. The running here is great – long roads in park-like settings and no traffic. I get nearly two hours in this time, but my Garmin only registers 8 miles. I think there’s something wrong with it (not really). I get a couple other slow easy runs in, and manage to get out each of the four mornings.



Amman


We’re only spending one night here, and as usual, I don’t have much time. This will be yet another orientation/exploration run. I find a) a parklike boulevard that’s not as long as I’d hoped, b) another cultural center that’s okay to circumnavigate, c) every taxi (and that’s all there are on the roads at 5:00 AM) wants to pull over to give me a ride, and d) the call to prayer.



Petra


I can see for miles and miles. Villages are lit up like groupings of jewels in the vast dark desert. They’re interspersed with the mountains that are nearly invisible in the darkness. I hear the 5:00 AM call to prayer coming from several of them. After beginning my run at a high point, I travel down – way down – and eventually wind up in one of said villages. Of course it’s bigger than it looked from afar, and I don’t want to get lost, so I just turn back. Until this point, there had been only the one road.

Now the moon is setting in the west, the direction of the villages I’d been admiring. The sky is getting lighter, and now I can see the distant mountains and desert floor better.

The run, and the one the following day were not great, or even good. But they sure are memorable, nonetheless.



Dead Sea


I hadn’t made it to ten miles yet. Today, my last on this trip, would be the day. I turn North out of the Movenpick and run on the service road (for resorts and stuff) that parallels the four-lane that parallels the Dead Sea. The street lighting is good, and there’s almost no traffic on this road.

I encounter a pack of wild, or at least loose dogs. I keep my distance, but I do need to yell at them a bit. At times I stay in the playpen area of the sidewalk. Yes, it’s barricaded in, for reasons that I don’t quite understand. Other times I’m back on the road.

The full moon is setting over the Dead Sea. It’s surreal. I run about three miles and notice that the service drive ends. I figure it’s time to turn back. I later learn that this is exactly as far North as the Dead Sea itself goes. It’s beginning to get light as I pass the Movenpick and keep going South.

There’s a lot of construction here, because heaven knows you can’t have too many Dead Sea Resorts. I turn back and stop in the room to let Debbie know that I’ll be later than planned. But I simply have to get those ten miles in. She is not amused.

I finish up, successfully getting those miles in. Finally.

My week of ~Running~ if you can call it that

This will be in backward order in an attempt to make it feel better. Maybe we’ll even have a not-unhappy ending.

Sunday: It’s the Buckeye Woods 25K/50K, and I have to go for it. Due to travel constraints, going for it today means starting early, getting two five-mile loops done, then doing one more with the main group as they begin their own journey at 7:30 AM. For the math-challenged, that, along with the extra mile, only adds up to 25K. This is my first departure from the 50K distance at this race (I’ve done nine straight, plus a summer one), but starting the run at 3 instead of 5 just didn’t appeal. Another thing that didn’t appeal was the weather: 37F and rain; not my favorite conditions. But I make it (in poor fashion), and I believe the RDs will give me credit for that. It helps to know people.

Saturday: My friends Rita Cognion and George Ziga are in town, so Joe Salwan and I meet them in Peninsula for a nice little run on the towpath. It is good to catch up with them. And it’s always nice to run in our lovely national park.

Friday: It’s Black Friday, and I have to work. I usually do work on this day to save vacation days. I am able to work from home, so it’s not so bad. Harold Dravenstott and Michelle Wolff are heading to Wooster to join in a group run they (Vertical Runner Wooster) call a Two-Hour Tryptophan Run. I start work at 3:30 AM, get a few hours in, then drive down to join the fun. And it truly is fun, as I run with Michelle, Harold, Debbie Horn and Michelle Daum. It’s as many 2-mile loops you can do in two hours, and then there are prizes based on that. I don’t get any prizes, but I’m glad I took part.

Thursday: It’s Turkey Day, time for a Turkey Trot. It’s been years since I’ve done one. This time it’s the Turkey Burner 5K in Hinckley. I follow Michelle Daum for the loop around the lake, and Harold D. follows me. I’m not extremely fast these days, but it feels good to move this un-slowly for a bit. And hey, I get a t-shirt and even an age group award medal.

Wednesday: I can’t get myself going at all. No run today.

Tuesday: I hit the track, meeting my co-worker and friend Colleen DeVito. We often meet at the track before work, but this may be one of the last times. On other occasions, I’ll often do some speedwork after running some with Colleen. Today I do not. I’m still tired from Sunday’s race.

Monday: I get a few miles in, but it’s not pretty. I’m still tired from Sunday’s race.

2019 Fall Classic Half Marathon and 5K

Always go before you go.

I usually do, and I sorta did this time. Except that it wasn't quite late enough. I was thinking about all the water and coffee in my belly and bladder as I was lined up at the start and began to run. I decided to remedy the situation by using the porta-john at about mile four. Forty seconds later, I was back on the run again, feeling more comfortable.

The goal was to beat the 1:51 I ran at Made in America, and also break the 1:50 "barrier." Running a half in the one-forties shouldn't be hard, should it?

The Fall Classic, in its 44th year, truly is one. I've done it a dozen or so times, and it never gets old. It's a double out-and-back loop in Cleveland Metroparks' Mill Stream Run Reservation. Today it was cool and sublime, even serene. It's also fun to see the other runners coming and going.

Coming through half-way at about 54 minutes and change, I knew I was cutting it close. No worries though, I'll just pick up the pace during the final miles, thought I.

By the time there were only a couple miles to go, I was indeed picking up the pace... I thought. Upon examination of the Garmin data, it now appears that I was only maintaining the 8:20-ish pace that I'd been doing all along. It only felt faster.

My finish time was 1:50:17 (or, if you prefer - as I do - 1:49:77), good for third in my ancient age group. It's okay in that it's faster than my previous half, but it's not in the 1:40s. I'm still trying to figure out who the other two old guys are.

And those extra forty seconds I mentioned? Don't even go there. Instead, go before you go.

2019 Made in America 1/2 Marathon

The start - I'm in the middle

Fellow Medina County Road Runner Jennifer Ridgeway and I park at the finish, then jog the short mile to the start area. It's about 40F, and now that we're warmed up, it feels like it'll be a great day for running. We say hey to some of our other MCRR buddies, and then we're off.

The first four miles are on hilly roads, then we turn onto the towpath for the flat remainder. I talk to a couple runners around me, but this relatively small field spreads out fairly quickly.

I am running just slightly better than 8:30 per mile pace. Doing the math (and this is complicated, but I've got nothing else to think about), I determine that I've got to pick up the pace just a little to beat last year's time of 1:50 and change. Maybe a fast final 5K will do it. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Regular readers of this blog may find this ambition - to beat last year's time - just a little familiar. Just last week at the Veteran's Marathon, I had been trying to better my 2018 result, but missed by a minute. One thing I am sure of: that this won't happen again. No, that is not possible.

Eight and a half miles in, I catch up with Jennifer. She has had some problems, but I convince her to run with me. It's good to have the company, and I think we're both benefiting. I also want to pick up the pace.

I (we) do. A little. Mile ten goes by in a little under 1:25 (editor's note: Dan used to complete entire 1/2 marathons under 1:25), and mile 12 in 1:41 and change. Now I really have to pick it up. Can I do it? Come in at least as fast as last year?

Crossing the finish line in 1:51

Nope. Close - within a half-minute (told you it wouldn't be a minute) - but no cigar. My 1:51 is still okay enough to beat all the geezers in my ancient age group, Never mind that Ron Legg, who's in an even older AG, beat me by a mile. Or two.

So it was a fun race and another pretty good result. Now I'm ready for whatever is next. Maybe a warm bath.

Jennifer Ridgeway and I

2019 InFirst Bank Veteran's Marathon

It's 8:53 AM EDT and I amble out of the car where I'd been reading for a half-hour. I wait in line for the porta-potty, and by 8:56, I'm jogging over to the start. The start, you see, is at 9:00 AM, but since this is a small race, I didn't have to be there any earlier than this. I should also mention that the race cost me fifty bucks. I registered a little over a week ago, just before the price increase to sixty. Had I been earlier, I could have gotten in for twenty-six. These are some of the many reasons I love small races like this. Not to mention that they're friendlier and easier-going. I should also mention that I did have to drive three hours to get here in Black Lick, PA. In case you don't know where that is, it's close to Indiana, PA.

I loved this race last year, and I ran well here. 3:46 and change (a lot of change, by the way). Could I do it again?

The cannon goes off with a BOOM, and off I go. It's cool (about 40), but not as cold as forecast. The early miles go by easily. I'm running at about the same pace as last year. Will I be able to hold it?

The Ghost Town trail is just as scenic as it was last year. The race is out and back, and that's another simplicity thing that I like about it. I reach the half-way turn-around in 1:53. This is perfect. But last year I finished strong. Will I be able to once again?

Although the second-half has a slight downhill grade, the wind is now in my face. It's not awful, but it may be taking a bit of a toll. I find that I am now working harder to maintain that same pace. During the last couple of miles, I slow down just a tiny bit. It's not much, but it's enough to prevent me from exceeding last year's time. 

This year it's 3:48; just over a minute slower than last year. I'm happy with it. Why couldn't I finish just a little stronger? The answer is blowin' in the wind.

This Morning at the Track

Editor's note: this is a guest post. Enjoy the 'different' perspective.

It happened at the Mayfield track. Creature of the morning that I am, I like to get moving in the early darkness at the start of the day. And this day, I had decided to make my way over to the track for a little exercise. Just as I was getting started, something big came around the curve, and was heading right at me! Imagine my surprise. It was in my lane; would it swerve out of my way, or should I move?

Within seconds, I realized that it was one of those large mammals they call ‘human beings.’ I’ve seen other ones here at the track, and I usually keep my distance. But this one was coming way too close. I quickly decided to raise my tail to try to warn it off. Maybe it would see the black and white fur, and realize that I am not without weaponry.

It didn’t work. It lumbered toward me still. Now I could see that this one had absolutely no fur on its head (how strange), and it was making an awful-looking, even scary face as it ran. It was also making scary grunting noises between the heavy breathing.

Should I spray or should I run? Even though it surely would have been fun to spray this thing, I decided that the risk of him falling over me would be too great.

Raising my tail as I went, I scurried out of the way.

Ducking under the fence as I left the track area, I vowed to get this guy with some spray next time. Fun awaits.

Up to Eleven

The movie, This is Spinal Tap made the phrase, "Up to eleven" a popular idiom. It seems the rock and roller character thought his music could be played louder because his amplifier volume dial went up to eleven as opposed to ten. It's become a fun phrase to indicate anything being exploited to its utmost limits, or even exceeding them.

And so it is with my training, in more ways than one. After a long, 24-mile Lester Rail Trail Trot on Saturday, after the usual Hinckley Hills on Sunday, after some slow and easy neighborhood jogging on Monday, and after treadmill speedwork followed with a later run alongside cross-country runner Jenny Hoffman ob Tuesday, it was time for a Wednesday track workout. Just getting out there once again felt like taking it up to eleven.

Then came my first (of ten) 800's. I was dizzy, and it didn't go well. I couldn't break four minutes, despite a fast finish. Should I give up? No, I managed to keep going. And things got better. My second one was in the three-fifties, and the rest were all under three-fifty. 

Thus I felt better as I went on, and the thought occurred to me to take it up to eleven in my count of 800s. This would enable me to throw out the first one for the purpose of determining an average. But would I be able to do an eleventh one? 

Nope. After all those other ones, I was exhausted, barely able to complete my cool-down. I had to leave it down at ten.

Be Like Eliud (and Brigid)

Second Sole Medina has had a series of running-related meetings featuring various speakers. This past Wednesday the topic was how to run faster, and the speaker was Renee Harden. Jim O’Connor asked how to finish strong in a race. His example was Eliud Kipchoge’s finishing kick during his barrier-busting sub-two-hour marathon this past Saturday.

Notice that I was careful to refer to it as ‘barrier-busting,’ and not ‘record-breaking,’ since it isn’t an official record. Regardless of its officialdom, no one can argue that it was a remarkable, even historic achievement to break such a barrier. A lot of us watched the run, and some of us (guess who) even sat and viewed the whole thing (it wasn’t a bit boring). Kipchoge’s finish was particularly electrifying. And we’re not even talking about the just-as-remarkable women's record set by Brigid Kosgei set at the Chicago Marathon the very next day.

We will leave the subject of Kipchoge’s shoes for another post.

Renee nailed it with her answer to Jim's question. How to finish strong as Kipchoge did? It's pure fitness, she said. I agree. You become as fit as you can be, avoid becoming injured, run your goal pace, and have just enough left to finish strong. I like this subject so much that I want to discuss it further.

Let's restrict this to marathons. It no-doubt also applies to half-marathons and ultras, but it's true in spades for the thons. Here's the thing: there is no feeling in the world like finishing strong in a marathon. Nothing. Nada.

Without diving too deep into the details, I would say that of my 112 marathons, perhaps between 20% and 30% had even to negative splits. This means the second half was close to the same or faster than the first half. These are the ones that feel good. The others decidedly do not. Some of those races with very negative splits probably shouldn't count, because the race was being run as a training exercise. So let's call it 15% to 25%. Therefore, something on the order of 75% of my marathons have been at best, arduous and difficult exercises in futility, and at worst, dreaded death marches.

Why do a thing that's not necessarily terribly good for you (running is, overdoing it with marathon running, not so much), is difficult, painful, frustrating, and has a 3 in 4 chance of turning out to be a miserable failure? That's easy. It's because, although those lows are indeed pretty darn low, the highs, those strong finishes, those even and negative splits, are so high, they're in the stratosphere. There are no other human experiences that can match them.

Let's say that I've convinced you. You want to run a marathon with even splits in which you finish strong and get that high of runners' highs. How do you do such a thing? We can start with Renee's answer: get fit. You won't be able to something in a marathon that you haven't trained for and therefore aren't capable of.

To add to that just a bit: don't get injured (Renee said this as well), run a lot, and run with intensity (you can follow a plan like Renee's or another one, but follow it!), determine, follow, and stay with your goal pace, and finally, train specifically for that final part of your race.

How to do that? Run the final 3-5 miles of a couple of your long runs at planned marathon pace. This isn't easy, but chances are that if you can't do this in training - at least once or twice during your training cycle, you won't be able to run the entire race - including the final miles - at that pace.

Don't give up. It may take 10,000 hours of training before you become proficient at marathoning. And just as important. Don't get injured. 

Finally, remember Dan's mantra: run a lot.

Eighty percent of success is showing up

The credit for the post title quote ('Eighty percent of success is showing up') goes to Woody Allen. It not only applies to life, but also (you guessed it) to running as well. If you extend the thought just a bit, you get the corollary to the thought of my previous post - Failure to Launch.

In other words, you do need to show up. But then you start running, and then, you have to keep running. Until you're done. Occasionally, preferably very occasionally, it's okay to allow yourself to fail. But based on another famous quote - this one from NASA - it's more often best to consider failure as not a valid option.

Today is a case in point. Although I've done a smattering of speedwork since just before Akron, it hasn't been very good. Certainly not like the thing I had going in late August and early September - often 10 x 800 (a Yasso workout) in the very low 3:40s. And that is very good for me these days. But I wasn't entirely feeling it this morning. Could I complete anything in this direction whatsoever?

Well, first I had to accept that I may not be able to Yasso through these 800s quite so fast. Second, I still wanted to get through them - all of them. And third, I wanted them to be consistent.  That's not asking for too much, is it?

The nice weather helped. I began by taking them one at a time. It also helps to not think very much about the entire elephant; just take the bites one by one. Guess what? It worked. I grew a bit more confident with each 800, and by the time I only had a few more to go, my completion assurance level, which started in the basement, was not at the top of the roof.

That said, the ten repeats were slightly slower than for those other workouts. This time the average 800 times was in the mid-3:40s. But I'll take them. Now, to do this a couple more times before my next thon.

Failure to Launch

Seven days ago, I'd planned to run 18 to 24 miles, and I only did 7. I suppose it was too soon (one week) after the Akron Marathon. But those 7 miles were so darn slow that they felt like 20. And they took nearly as much time as 20 would have. This was a real stinker; a true failure to launch.

Six days ago, I'd planned to run a full 9 prior to the usual Hinckley Sunday morning 9-miler. This meant 3 3's before the 9 at 6. Guess what? I did it. So I did manage to eek out a long run for the weekend. I felt a little better.

Today would be different, thought I. Today I'd do a long run, and it would be pretty. In the beginning however, it was starting to look, taste, and smell like last week's stinker. But I somehow got myself moving this time. In fact, my pace got better as the run went on.

This is not to say that the run was at a good pace; it wasn't. But at least the last few (of the twenty) were.

After Akron

The Akron Marathon didn't go as planned. What would? Heck, I don't know. But I gotta find something. A few choices:

Well, first there's the Towpath Marathon. I used to always love this race. The course is now changed, and runners won't even go into the national park anymore. Of course, that was the best part, but I'd be willing to give it another go. IF IT WASN'T THIS SUNDAY. I feel like the kid who hasn't attended class or studied all term, and now has to face a final exam.

The Columbus Marathon is next Sunday. It's another former fav of mine. But the problem is, IT'S NEXT SUNDAY. Too soon once again. I think.

Third choice is the Youngstown Marathon. It's in two weeks. But I looked at the elevation chart. Thar be mountains there. NOPE.

Fourth may be the charm. It's the Veteran's Marathon in central PA that I did last year. I thoroughly enjoyed that one and vowed to return. I prolly will, if I don't do any of the others.

2019 Akron Marathon

It's about 5:20 AM, and Dan arrives at the starting area outside Stan Hywet Hall and Gardens. But this isn't the start of his day. He woke at 3:05, drove to Medina Route 18 Dunkin Donuts before 4:00, shifted to Andy and Michelle Wolff's car at about 4:12, arrived in downtown Akron in time to catch the 5:00 AM bus... and now he's here and ready to go. But the race isn't starting just yet. Dan will need to wait until 7:30 AM for that.

Don't worry. There's plenty for Dan to do. He walks around. Talks with Igor Skalsky. Bumps into Michelle and Andy several more times. Uses the porta-john. Uses the woods. Meets up with other Medina County Road Runners for the group photo in front of the mansion. He even jogs a tiny bit, even though he shouldn't; it's too warm for a warmup today.

MCRR Friends   photo by Syd

Oh yes. The race. A couple raindrops are coming down as the race begins. Everyone appreciates the rainbow that's off to the right. Dan mentions to Beth Anne that she should arrange one for the start of the Medina Half Marathon. She says she will order one up.

It doesn't feel overly warm. Yet. Dan runs the first twelve miles in the 8:40 to 8:50 minutes per mile pace range. This is probably too fast for him, but he is beginning to think that perhaps Akron can be his 'A' race after all. Yes, he decides, Akron is now promoted. And he will try to hold this pace.

Dan enjoys this first half. But now it's time for the second. Going out one way, then the other one the 'Y' bridge, he's still doing fine. But it's beginning to get warm. Suddenly, when he's at about mile 15 or so a terrible thing happens: the sun comes out. It's now not just warm and humid; it's hot and humid.

It's not just hot and humid, he's going uphill. Uphill for what seems like mile after mile. It seems never-ending, and poor Dan is slowing down a little. It does end, finally, around mile 20. Dan's first-half joyfulness has now given way to grim determination. Without the determination.

Our runner is slowing, but even so, he's been passing a few folks. One of them is Doug Hradek. Doug is a good runner and he's in Dan's ancient age-group. This makes him an arch-rival. Another is training partner Theresa Wright.

Much of the final four miles are on the towpath that winds towards downtown Akron. It's nice, but Dan is now in full survival mode. His calf muscles begin to cramp up in the final mile and a half. He slows further - much further - to prevent a complete muscle-cramp tie-up. Theresa passes Dan in the final mile. Doug passes him in the final half-mile. Dan is now running so slow, he's in danger of being passed by walkers.

He looks at his watch. At 26 miles, it says, 3:59. He had been hoping for sub 3:50, then 3:55, then 3:59. Nope. Not gonna happen today. He finishes in the stadium with a final time of 4:05. He later learns that he's second to Doug in his ancient age group.

He meets up with friends Tim Pepe, Ladd Clifford, and Bob Pokorny, among others. The humid conditions were tough for everyone, and Ladd and Bob had trouble with cramping as well. After laying down on the baseball field for a while, Dan tries to get back up. EEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW! Every muscle in each of his legs cramps up and there is excruciating pain.

Tim helps Dan over to the medical tent, where he's stretched out and has four ice bags wrapped to his legs. He eventually recovers enough to find Michelle and Andy for the painful ride home.

All's well that end's well, they say. Is it possible the converse is also true?

Bonk

A bonk, by my definition, is an unexpected depletion of energy during a run. My perspective is that it is caused by a lack of nutrition and possibly hydration as well.

It's what happened to me today. Since returning home, I've been trying to get back into the swing of things, and I've sort of done so. Had some pretty darned good runs, and I've been fairly consistent and steady. Maybe the continuity of such running through today's planned long run was too much to ask.

Having had my Cape Breton Fiddlers Marathon canceled because of Hurricane Dorian threw me for a loop. Getting back in the saddle right away was a good thing. In the process, I also signed up for next Saturday's Akron Marathon. It wouldn't be an 'A' race for me, so I wanted to run an easy long one today - maybe 18 miles in about three hours. Piece of cake, no?

No. After about ten easy miles, half of them at the track, the wheels fell off. I barely made it home and only did 15 miles in those three hours.

Maybe I can make it up tomorrow. Or not.

Running in Nova Scotia (and environs)

Our plans changed due to Hurricane Dorian. Instead of spending eight nights in Nova Scotia, we started our trip in Quebec City, drove to Moncton, New Brunswick, and then finally made our way to Cheticamp, Nova Scotia. My plans for a fall marathon blew away with the Dorian winds as well. The race was canceled. That’s just as well; I couldn’t have gotten there anyway. My refund is in the mail.

We loved Quebec City, and although it wasn’t in the scenic old town area, my run was wonderful as well. There were all-purpose trails galore. I got lost for a while, but then figured them all out as it got lighter and I found the Walmart to use as orientation. After many slow miles, I picked it up nicely for the last three of the eleven. It helped that a) I could see now that it was light, b) I finally knew where I was, and c) they were downhill.

Not much shakin’ in Moncton, New Brunswick. It was all freeways and such.

My first run in Cheticamp was memorable. I ran over and onto the island and back for 8 ½ miles total. A bald eagle flew right over my head. My other runs in the area were nice as well. When I got up into the hills, the scenery looking back down at the town was sublime. And a longish run over to the national park and back was fine as well.

My second run in Dartmouth, which is a suburb of Halifax, went well. I ran around the Dartmouth Crossing shopping complex a few times, and then I found a Great Trail. Actually, not ‘a’ Great Trail; it was labeled as ‘the’ Great Trail. And it was truly a very nice trail. I would only be a little more careful with the superlatives. The trails seem to go a long way, but I never got real far from my trail-head in Shubie Park. Of course, I was singing, ‘shubie-doobie-do’ the whole time.

My third run in Dartmouth would also be my last for the trip. I once again ran around the shopping area, this time making bigger (3-mile-ish) loops. But after a nice, although slow, ten, I decided that I’d have to finish on the mill in order to be done on time. I managed to get eighteen in altogether.

Not a bad week. At least for being on vacation.

2019 Moebius Green Monster Trail 50K

There is suddenly slippery mud that you don’t notice until it sneaks up on you. There’s mud that lurks below shallow pools of water and streams, Then there’s ankle-deep, shoe-sucking mud. Guess which is my personal favorite? And guess which was the most prevalent at this year’s Moebius Green Monster Trail 50K? I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the one other kind of mud that I’ve encountered, though thank goodness not today. Of course that’s the waist-deep kind.

Besides the mud, there’s the ever-present rocks, roots, fallen trees, and stream-crossings. This may come as a shock to some, but I’m not much of a trail runner. Since I don’t run trails so much, those things, and of course the mud, are a challenge to me.

What didn’t challenge me today was the weather. It was mostly clear, cool, and nice for the entire run. All the other runners, some of whom are old friends that I hadn’t seen in a while, were enjoying the weather immensely.

Photo by Syd

Having done this run in the past as fast as five hours flat and around five-thirty, I thought I could at least break six hours this day. Alas. It wasn’t to be. My 10K loops were 1:12, 1:12, 1:14, 1:14, and 1:19. I never really got going fast enough to come through with a fast overall time. I crossed the line in six hours, 14 minutes. That’s about the same time as my last 50K. But I had slightly higher expectations this time.

At least I’m still vertical. And I certainly did enjoy the run. Despite the rocks, the roots, the fallen trees, the stream-crossings. And the mud.

Going a Little Too Fast

I've been pretty good about getting to the track once a week for the past month or two. Most track workouts (I hesitate to call them speedwork) take place at the Mayfield High School track. It's close to work, so I can drive up there early and beat the morning freeway traffic. After the run, I drive a couple miles to the Fitness Center, shower, dress, and then walk over to the office. It works.

Things took a slightly different turn today. I was minding my own business driving in on I480, when I saw the flashing lights behind me. Surely they weren't for me, I thought. Oh yes, they were. I got a citation for driving 76 in a 60. This is ironic, because I've been known to drive even faster, and may well have been, had there not been a car in front of me doing the same speed. I was the unlucky one. It's also ironic that traffic sometimes moves even faster still when there is somewhat more of it. This early morning there wasn't all that many of us about. I suppose it's easier for cops to single victims out when they're sparse.

Although I was a little upset, and although I was now starting later than planned, I was also determined to still run some (relatively) fast 800s today. Could I do as well as last week?

I could, and I did. Barely: only 1 second better per repeat. But an average of 3:43 is something I'll take.

It isn't too fast.

MCRR President's Corner

I am honored to have been chosen to become the President of MCRR. This has happened before, and now they want me back. Ain't that something?

As President, I contribute to the club newsletter in the form of the monthly President's Corner articles. Here is the first installment. I think you'll like it.



Now that I’m here, we’re going to turn this team around 360 degrees ~ Jason Kidd, as he was drafted to the then-lowly Dallas Mavericks


Thank you for your service. Yes, you’ve heard that before. In this case, it applies to your current and past members of the MCRR Board. These folks devote their time and effort to make MCRR the great running club that it is. This is volunteerism at its best. Excuse me, but I’m going to get personal. These personal thank-yous are in no particular order.


Christy Wilmoth: Thank you for stepping up to fulfill the job of President. I know you have a busy life and you probably didn’t need another place to spend your time. But you did serve us well. I’m happy you’re still on the Board. I plan to rely heavily on your experience.


Beth Bugner: You’re new on the Board, but of course you’re familiar to all of us. With your dedication to the Half-Marathon, the MCRR Scholarship, gobs of other things, and now the Board, you are the best of the best. What a great role model you are.


Harold Dravenstott: You’ve taken the Treasurer Role on for another year, and no amount of appreciation is adequate for that. It’s nearly a thankless job (except that I’m thanking you now), but it’s oh so necessary. You make it look easy, but I know it isn’t. Thanks for all your other volunteerism as well.


Tim Pepe: Welcome to the Board. I am certain you will provide very valuable contributions, as you bring your running experience and MCRR friends into the mix. I know you volunteer for a lot, and it’s grand that you’re joining us here as well. (By the way, since you missed the meeting, you’re lucky that you weren’t chosen to be President.)


Michelle Wolff: It’s hard to remember a time when you were not on the Board. And you do another job that’s not an easy one: that of Secretary. You’ve always been the most supreme of volunteers. MCRR (and I, your running partner) would be lost without you.


Karen Hammon: I believe you’re yet another person who is invaluable to the club. As Vice President, you do all kinds of stuff that no one else is willing to take on. I am so happy that you’re staying on in this role. Prepare to be leaned on. A lot.


Sydney Chinchana: You have made the newsletter great again. Greater than ever, in fact. I very much look forward to that thing coming to my email each month. When it does arrive, I read every word as if my life depends on it. I suppose it does to some degree since running is my life. You have become a valuable member of our Board, and also the entire club. For everyone else in the club, if you don’t already know Sydney, get that changed right away.


None of this is to say that there aren’t a whole lot of other fantastic folks in the club. I wish I could name all of you right here and now. Suffice it to say that your volunteering efforts are indeed appreciated.



As for me, it’s an honor to be on the Board and even more so to be chosen to serve as President again. I promise to do my best to help keep the lights on and to try to avoid doing anything truly stupid. I know. It’s a stretch. I do plan to focus on making running fun and fulfilling for all of us. It’s why we’re all here.


Volunteering and doing good things. It’s what makes MCRR great.

Featured Runner

Every month the Medina County Roadrunners feature a member in their monthly newsletter. Recently, I had my turn. Here it is:

Can you give me a short description about yourself?

I run a lot. But you probably already knew that. Instead, let me tell you a little about my non-running life.

My day job is this: I’m a project planning analyst specializing in software metrics. I positively love this work. More so when it doesn’t conflict with running, traveling, or spending time with the family.

Did I just mention travel? Yes, I like to explore far and wide. I consider myself lucky to have had some wonderful travel opportunities so far. And I’m planning more all the time. Related to some extent, I also like hiking, theater, good food, and other cultural stuff.

Besides MCRR, I belong to, and serve on the executive board of another organization called the Sierra Club. I have strong feelings about the environment, and I believe we all need to work together to leave the planet a better place.

I enjoy writing. I have three blogs on the topics of running, travel, and the environment. This is at least some indication of what’s important to me. I’ve written a couple dozen articles and I’ve self-published two books.

I mostly like spending time with my family and friends. This takes precedence over work, travel, and even running.

How long have you been running?

The bronze age was just ending. I was lucky that they selected Pheidipides instead of me to run from Marathon to Athens in 490 B.C. A little more seriously, I started running in the mid-1970s, when running became a thing. Sure, people did run before that, but it was mostly on the track. There wasn’t much road or trail running until that 1970s running boom.

My first marathon was also the first Cleveland Marathon in 1978. I didn’t know much about training, other than I needed to run a lot. That’s been my mantra ever since.

Do you run alone or with a group?

Both. Weekdays are mostly solitary, with a few exceptions. Weekends are nearly always with my MCRR peeps. I do prefer having the company. As you might guess, I’ve had a lot of running partners over the years, many of whom have become good friends. But none have been as great as my MCRR buddies. MCRR is da best.

Road or trail?

I love trails 1: The Towpath and similar trails – those that are straight, wide, and smooth - are just the thing for me.
I love trails 2: Slightly rougher trails like bridle trails are also fine, but for hiking, not for running. I don’t really like face-planting myself.
I love trails 3: Trails that are rougher still are also fine. Except for rocks. And roots. And mud. And ankle-twisting ruts. And stream-crossings. (Also see #2)

I don’t really like the hard surface of roads, but they work better for me overall. I do try to get 25%-35% of my running done on softer surfaces however.

Running in 0F or 90F?

How about neither? I think I suffer less in the cold, so I prefer the former. But I usually can survive the latter, especially if I’ve gotten used to it. Don’t get me started on cold rain, however.

Favorite race distance? why? 

Over the years, my favorite racing distance has undergone quite the evolution. I think my first fav was 10K. Even as I began running marathons, my 10K runs were always a great experience and challenge. At some point, it switched to the marathon. I think this was because I started doing so darn many of them, and because I actually reached a point where I was reaching my goals. Then came 100K. I did a few of them, and despite the challenge, I was happy with the results.

Now it’s been years since I’ve run that far. But I have done some 50s. 50 what, you ask? A couple years ago I ran a few 50 milers including the National Championship, and they mostly went okay. Maybe you can say that that was a favorite distance. Until it wasn’t. I haven’t even done one of those in a while now.

Now it’s just 50Ks. I’ve done a bunch, and I’m still doing them. So after all that, 50K is my favorite race distance. Wasn’t that simple?


Most memorable race? why?

If you know me, you probably think I’ll talk about the 2008 Green Jewel 100K. You know, the one where I had to run fast in order to get done in time to get on a flight to Europe, except that I got lost in the downpour yet still made it. Or maybe my only completed 100-Miler: Mohican in 2001. But no. Instead, allow me to tell you about my first sub-three hour marathon.

After that 1978 Cleveland marathon where I ran a 3:04, I had it in my head that I wanted to break three hours and qualify for Boston. Three hours was the standard for Boston for years and years, although it was even tougher for one or two years: 2:50. I tried to break three hours for eleven years, coming close a few times. Then finally, the 1989 Cleveland Marathon came around. I’d worked and trained, trained and worked, and I finally put it all together and ran 2:59. I remember the bright sunny day, the warm temperatures (which were not helpful), talking with others along the way. Mostly I remember the final quarter mile on Euclid Avenue. I was running fast and strong, and I felt great. Time seemed to stand still as I knew I’d made it, and just wanted to savor that moment.

Then something ironic happened. Within a couple weeks, Boston drastically relaxed their qualifying standards, to 3:15 in my case. I had already been qualified based on previous races. I still liked where I was at, however. I’d gotten the formula right, and managed to break three hours six more times. Nothing feels like running strong at the finish of a fast marathon. Nothing.

Dream race/destination?

There are a few runs and races on my bucket list. Rim to Rim to Rim in the Grand Canyon is one. Comrades (Ultra)Marathon in South Africa is another.

Favorite pre-race food/drink?

For a marathon or anything longer, a small bowl of cereal works well. And coffee. There has to be coffee.

Favorite post-race food/drink?

I don’t eat a whole lot of red meat. But for some reason, after a long race, I crave a nice, juicy steak. I suppose it’s the protein.

Favorite local route/place to run?

I love Hinckley, but in my mind, it’s the Towpath. Peninsula and the Station Road Bridge areas are some of my favorite places on Planet Earth.

Do you cross-train? If so, what do you do? 

I lift weights – light ones – a few days a week. I also swim (poorly) about once a week.

Have you ever run in costume? What was your favorite costume?

No, but some people say I dress funny anyway. Also, there was that time that I stood in for Roy Heger as race-director for the day so that he could run his own race, Run with Scissors. My wife helped me disguise myself to look like Roy, and he sure was surprised to see me!

What’s the most ridiculous thing a non-runner ever said to you?

After a friend and I trained together and ran that first marathon, an incredulous non-runner asked, “How did you ever train for such a thing?” (Remember, marathons were rare in those days.) My running buddy, who just didn’t want to get into all the intricacies of our training regimen, replied, “We ran a lot.”

Name of an MCRR member that you want to us to interview next: 

Christine Orwin

A Ten

1) To run fast, you have to start fast. Or is it: Don’t start too fast; save something for the rest of the repeat and finish strong. What to do when you consider conflicting advice? Both things, of course. I’ve started my Yasso workout at Buckeye H.S. track. Lap one is always the toughest, except for the other nine. I’m starting with the philosophy that I do need to begin fast, but not so much that I feel it a whole lot. This before the devil knows your dead strategy is something I apply to the first 200 meters of every 800-meter repeat. It seems to work, as the next 400 meters feel tough, but not exhausting. I’m able to run the final 200 meters fairly fast. Even so, I’m pretty tired after this one. And egads, I have nine more to go. 3:47.

2) Last week I managed to run the ten 800s at an average time of 3:50. That was a little slower than I’d wanted, but at least they were steady and consistent. Today I want to do them all under 3:50. Is it possible? Well, I did okay on my first one; all I need to do is continue running that fast for all the others. This one seems a teensy bit easier than the first. 3:46.

3) Light rain is falling on and off. The 69F temperature doesn’t feel too bad, but the humidity is through the roof. This repeat is feeling easier still, and I’ll get a quick water break afterward. 3:43.

4) I pick up a little trash whilst going around on my recovery lap. This is just something I do when the notion hits me. One item is a water bottle that seems full. I twist off the top and hear the familiar click to indicate that it hadn’t been opened before. This is good; now I can drink at the edge of the track rather than going all the way over to the water fountain, saving me at least 25 extra steps each time. It’s official. These are definitely getting easier. At least a little. 3:44.

5) I hear footsteps and look back. No one is there. The noise is my own big floppy shorts, soaked with rain and sweat, flapping in the wind. Since I’m the only one at the track this early morning, and since I’m traveling clockwise (something I never do when others are present) the noise did manage to spook me just a bit. Not enough to run faster, however. 3:43.

6) After that last one, I took a water break (out of my new-found bottle) and stopped to stretch for just a minute. It’s always hard to get moving again after a brief rest like this, but here I go. I’m only half-way done and I feel shot. How in the world will I be able to do five more? 3:44.

7) Well, now it’s only four more. That sounds so much better. Maybe I will indeed be able to do this. 3:44.

8) Number eight somehow sounds better than three more to go. I’m not sure why that is. It sounds even better to say when I’m done with this one, I’ll only have number 9 and number 10 to finish. 3:44.

9) I’ve seen it happen. Occasionally, I’m able to pick up the pace during the final one or two laps such that they are my fastest two of the bunch. Today is not one of those occasions. But at least I’m not slowing down, either. 3:43.

10) Now I think I am going to make it. The last one always feels good to say to oneself. For this and the last couple, I skip checking my watch at the first 200 meters. I’m still following the before the devil knows you’re dead strategy, and it’s working well for me. I only look at the end of each 200-meter section after that. As with number 9, I can’t run any faster, but I don’t slow down either. No big deal. I’m extremely gratified to be finishing and to have met my time goal for the day. 3:43.

When Coffee Doesn't Work, Part 257

It's part 257 because I know, I absolutely know, that I've written about this before. Here's the July, 2019 edition.

I'm awake (barely) and out of bed around four. That's a half-hour later than usual, but I figured I'd need this extra sleep on a Monday, and I was right. Almost. I actually needed more. What's so special about Mondays I wonder? I didn't go too very wild over the weekend in terms of running, or anything much else. Just my meek, usual routine.

Okay, I did run 30-plus miles when you combine Saturday and Sunday's mileage. But that's not all that unusual. Saturday's 21 was on the Towpath. I get down there once a month or so, and it's still one of my favorite running venues. Saturday I ran with Mike George and J.C. Jones.

I shuffle over to the already-made coffee. Thank goodness for the auto-timer on the Mr. Coffee machine - otherwise I'd have to wait 90 seconds for the first cup to brew. But today's a two-cup day, and two cups still isn't enough. All the coffee in the world isn't enough.

By around five, I'm out the door, shuffling along on my five-mile route. (I don't need to go so far today.) And I do mean shuffling. Even though I don't look at my watch, I know I'm only doing something in the neighborhood of 13-minute miles. And speaking of the neighborhood, I don't even make it out of mine. This five-mile route is simple: five one-mile loops around the block, with a teensy bit of variation built in.

There are times when I start as slow as I did today, but eventually wake up and begin running better. Today is not one of those days. I continue at shuffle pace, and actually make it through the run with the minimum number of steps necessary to consider it a completion of the five-mile course.

Maybe I'll wake up as I commute to the office. Maybe not.

Annual MCRR Poorly Organized Summer Run and Picnic

The 2019 version of the Annual MCRR Poorly Organized Summer Run and Picnic at Hubbard Valley County Park lived up to its name and reputation. Hot and humid, check. Some great running, check. Lots of fun, check. Poorly organized, double-check.

The early rain gave way to clouds, humidity, and mud, and that eventually gave way to sun, heat, and even more humidity. Being the Race Director (indeed, the entire Race Committee), I took it upon myself to lead the first 2.6-mile loop. At least I thought it was 2.6 miles. It may have been a little short, but I’m sticking to my distance anyway.

Although it didn’t rain much, the trails were surprisingly muddy. The humidity wasn’t so much a surprise, however; it was expected. When the sun came out later on, things got real. It hit around 88 degrees by the time we were done.

I ran early miles with Debbie Horn, Christy Gnat, Beth Bugner, Kelly Parker, Frank Dwyer, and Bob Pokorny; probably others as well. Later miles were with Ladd Clifford (it has been years since we ran so far together) and Debbie Horn. It was great to catch up with so many of these friends, and of course great that they all showed up in the first place. Altogether, eighteen brave MCRR souls ran this day.

Most of the gang never planned to run the full 50K (12 laps), but I did. So it seems, did Debbie. She was stalking me and Ladd, and I slowed more and more each loop. She and I wound up running the last one together, where we continued our previous conversation involving travel tales. That helped pass the time and make the last lap not quite as bad as the previous couple.

Yes, I’ll still call this a 50K, even though it may have been a tad short. And yes, I’ll still call this a win, even though I tied with the only other 50K finisher, Debbie.

Now, on to bigger and better things. Wait. What could be bigger or better than this?

And the other 90% is physical

I wanted to entitle this post, And the Other Half is Physical, but after a quick search, realized that I'd already used that phrase. But the original reference is of course to Yogi Berra's famous saying, Now I'm thinking that it's 90% mental AND 90% physical.

All that said, tomorrow's Annual MCRR Poorly Organized Summer Run and Picnic should be interesting. The temps will be in the nineties, with very high humidity. AND I'm still nursing these darn knee and achilles injuries. Despite alternate bouts of pessimism and optimism, I'm surely not anywhere close to 100%. I will, however, giving it the full 90%

Physical Well Being Update

Not long ago, I posted that Things were going a little too good, and of course, something bad had to happen: in this case, a knee injury. Here's the latest.

Last week, I took four days off in a row. This is highly unusual. I did run a long one over the weekend as I started back up. The knee still hurt at that time, but perhaps not quite so much. By the way, I'd stopped wearing the Kinesio tape on my Achilles; only on my knee. And also by the way, my Achilles has been pretty darn good lately, even sans tape.

Although the knee pain seemed to be slowly improving, imagine my surprise when I awoke to no pain at all yesterday. I ran my usual ten miles, and still no pain. So my current state is: Achilles: 90%, Knee: 85%.

Based on all this optimism, you can probably guess what time it is. Time to do something really and truly stupid. Like, try to run 50 kilometers (or so) in the heat this Sunday.

Things were going a little too good

Things had been going a little too good. My Achilles Tendonitis was much better. I'd been running farther, faster, and generally just better. I'd been thinking about my seemingly bright racing future.

But it crept up on me, as these things always do. At first, I thought it was some kind of shin splits, since it was on the front of my shin. Mostly the upper part. But then it got worse and worse, and I slowly began to realize that it's my lower knee and not my shin. It's the same leg that the Achilles is still healing on.

So now it's really bad. Bad enough to keep me from running today. I may need to skip tomorrow too. Where will things go from there? Who knows, but whoa is me.

Twin Sizzler 2019 Edition

For the life of me, I don't know why I don't do these races every single year. It's such a lot of fun. Oh yeah. now I remember. It's because it's always so darn hot!

MCRR Friends before the start

First the Fun Part: All my old and not quite so old friends were there. It's just great to see everyone and to catch up on new and old running stories. Another fun thing is the Medina Square. It's just buzzing with activity. What a great place. And then there are the races themselves. The 5K is usually fast, and the 10 is usually hot as Hades. This brings me to the....


Now the So Darn Hot Part: Although it's early, the 5K itself was Hot, Hot, Hot this year, and I suffered mightily. The 10K, coming at 9:00, was even hotter. Harold Dravenstott and I ran the first two miles at an easy pace, and this was a really good thing. Even though I couldn't catch Theresa Wright, I felt better for the middle and late miles.

Harold Dravenstott thought he could sneak up on me. Who won? Depends on the camera angle!

I somehow won my So-Old-They-Shouldn't-Even-Have-This-Category-Anymore Age Group for both races.

Me with my two first place medals

Junk Miles

There was a time when I considered anything slower than nine-thirty per mile pace to be junk miles. These days, if I can run but one mile at that speed, it's cause for celebration.

Just kidding. I can do two, sometimes three entire miles at 9:30; sometimes even all in a row.

Back to the old days. I went through a phase where I declared war on junk miles. No miles, not even one, would be slower than 9:30. Not for an entire year. Guess what? I did it. And here's the further surprise: it worked. I actually got faster and had a good year. But alas. It didn't last.

These days, I don't think there's an upper limit as far as pace is concerned. My junk miles have junk miles. Anything goes.

Today's run is a good example. It's Monday, and for a variety of reasons, Mondays aren't such good running days, so I didn't expect much. Even so, I did want to do something of substance, what with the Twin Sizzler looming in a few days. At least ten miles. And at least some speed of some kind.

I hit the Mayfield track at exactly 5:00 AM. It's cool; the best running weather in a couple weeks. I start slow. Very slow. Excruciatingly slow.But that's okay. After 24 Lester Rail Trail miles on Saturday, and hellacious Hinckley Hills Sunday, setting the world on fire isn't an option today. But anything at all faster than average, combined with a decent overall total of miles will do.

People come by, so I slow down some more. This is the opposite of what usually happens. When there are others around, I generally want to show off at least a little. Then more people come. And of course I slow down even more.

Now I'm barely walking. It takes about an hour and a half to run seven shuffling miles. And that's all the time I have. I stumble back to the car and go to work. I didn't do ten, and I didn't even do anything of substance. I'm a miserable failure.

Okay, maybe not quite so miserable. Things truly aren't that bad. It was just time for a stinker. And this was it.

Historic Run

For those who are thinking about the Subject line of this post, you're probably wondering how an old bald guy can do anything at all historic these days.

Well I can't. Or at least I can say I didn't. But give me time. I still plan to be the Greatest Runner Who Ever Lived. It's just going to take time. But what was historic about this run was the location: Martinsburg, West Virginia. We were staying here in order to visit nearby Harpers Ferry National Historical Park; it came as a surprise to me that the town of Martinsburg is historic as well. Upon later reflection, it seems that all of the towns and villages in this part of the country have some local history to be proud of.

Martinsburg has buildings dating back to 1812, at the least. Many of the others are from the Civil War era. One of the most important events occurred when Southern troops led by General Stonewall Jackson, occupied the town, and burned some buildings including the train station and destroyed 38 miles of track, all with the help of a famous accomplice: a 17-year old girl.

I learned these events during my run, but then it got serious. Of course I had been running slow to take all this in. It was good to have an excuse, since I always run slow anyway. I hit the high school track to get on track, so to speak, and that did the trick. I was able to get a 4-mile tempo run in.

This brought the total to 13 miles. Not one of my very best runs, but a pretty decent one.

Sweet and Savory Sixty Mile Relay

Relays are fun. This one, the Sweet and Savory Sixty Mile Relay was especially so. Our team, Over the River and Through the Woods, was made up of Darryl Mika, Joe Vasil, Jerry Storer, Dan Ogonek, and Jan Frandsen. I knew Joe, Jerry, and Darryl from work, and it was nice to meet Dan and Jan.

There was a bit of trepidation on my part. I hadn't heard much about the event - would it even come off at all? I didn't know some of the guys - would we all get along okay, and would we all be able to run our legs during the event itself? I would wind up with the most mileage, including a tough leg 8 - I wouldn't let the team down, would I?

These and other fears turned out to be groundless. Our team - a bunch of slow old guys though we were, did just fine. Not great, mind you, but fine. I ran okay - slightly better than expected. And it was fun all around.

90%

Of course 90% is an attitude, since there's no way to measure such a thing. Okay, maybe you could consider heart rate, but HR is not the entire story, and besides, I mostly don't fool with it.

I do indeed fool with the 90% thing. Here's what it means: give 90% effort for 90% of the run. Why 90, and not 100, you ask? Good question.

The idea is that you are only giving 90% for that first 90% of the run, but you have something left in the tank for that final 10%. When you get there, then you give it the whole 100.

Event, distance, competition? Doesn't matter what or where. The 90% solution applies. I think of it during some of my more intense runs, especially races and intervals. Today, it was mile intervals. I ran smooth and fast for 3 1/2 of each four-lap effort, then put the pedal to the metal for the final 1/2 lap. The hope is that even at 90%, I'm still moving fast. Yet I have enough left to finish strong.

I've got to concentrate a little more to apply this in races. My 90% should equal my competitors' 100%. Then when I bring it up to 100, no one can stay with me. Another thing that helps is to be the greatest runner of all time.

AT - An Update

I know. You're tired of hearing about my Achilles Tendinitis. Believe me, I'm tired of talking about it, and tireder of having it in the first place. It's been five years, for heaven's sake.

Five years of general, nearly non-stop pain. Five years of step, ouch, step, ouch. Five years of trying everything and anything to fix it, with no lasting success.

Okay, now here's the update: I still have it. But there is some good news. I've been trying even more of the usual stretching and strengthening, but also Lidocane patches and kinisio tape. Some combination of all this, but I think mostly the tape, is resulting in reduced pain.

How much, you ask? Hard to say. But it is definitely noticeable. Will the improvement continue? Who knows. We can only hope.

With the reduction in pain comes more and better mileage. I followed last week's 26 with a decent week (over 70 miles, including some speedwork) and 24 yesterday.

I'm almost afraid to say it, but things are looking up.

Not Quite as Expected

Two weeks after the painful Cleveland Marathon; one week after the tedious Medina Half Marathon, you'd think I'd be ready for a break. But I did want to get a long run in. Long in today's case is defined as 20 or so miles. Any more than that would be icing on the cake.

Friends from work would be running on the Towpath as they often do on Saturdays. I decided to meet them, but to get some miles in early to ensure longness.

I'm awake at 3:30 and in the car at 4:20. I begin my run at Station Road Bridge at 4:55. The others (Joe Vasil, Mike George, and Scott George who's no relation) are coming at 7:00. I plan to circle back.

This provides two hours of tremendous towpath training trotting. In the old days, I could run from Station Road to Peninsula and back - fourteen miles - in two hours' time. Yes, I know. That was then, and this is now. I'll just do what I can. What I can and what I want are more and more frequently two different things these days.

I only manage twelve miles. That's pretty poor, but it doesn't bother me too very much. I did enjoy this return to Cuyahoga Valley National Park. It had been a while. Too long, in fact. And as it began to get lighter, I did manage to pick up the pace. A little.

Scott, Mike, and Joe had planned on fourteen miles as well. My original plan was not to go that far with them; just enough to make it to twenty-ish. We get moving at an easy pace.

But lookyahere. After some nice conversation and other distractions, I find myself in Peninsula with them. Now all I had to do was run back.

This part is a little tougher. We become splintered a little, and I run mostly with Mike. It's good to catch up on even more stuff. Before I know it, we're back in Brecksville. I ran 26 miles.

That actually exceeded my expectations. And that's pretty rare these days.

The Medina Half Marathon

1:55. I survived another hot one.

Actually, it wasn't so bad. I kept a steady (albeit slow) 8:50 pace throughout. Although it was warm and humid, I managed much better than last week. I suppose that being half the distance helped.

Of course the X-Factor is that I'm only six days away from that debacle in the Cleveland Heat. I'm still getting over that one.

And I also helped by volunteering at the day-before Expo and at the early-morning course setup.

But at the race, I persevered. I therefore feel better now. Mostly. Thank you.

One more thing: I was third in my ancient age group. Just like last week. Only different.

The 2019 Rite-Aid Cleveland Marathon

It was a beautiful day in Cleveland. I thoroughly enjoyed running all through my fair city. I ran as well as I could have expected, and had a wonderful time doing so. I’m encouraged to return again next year, and to soon run a lot of other races as well.

None of that, not a single word, is even the least bit remotely true. I’m sure it (the 2019 Cleveland Marathon) was my worst ever. The slow time (my slowest ever road marathon) doesn’t begin to tell the story. Neither does the temperature reading (I think it hit 86F, although my car was telling me 89F as I was driving home.

What does tell the story is this: today stunk, my race stunk, and I stunk.

Allow me a few additional observations.

- I mentioned in my pre-race blog post that I probably shouldn’t even show up for the start. I was right. In fact, running is stupid. And running marathons is stupider.

- I also mentioned in said post that this would be my nineteenth Cleveland Marathon. Now I’m legitimately wondering whether there will be a twentieth.

- Hot weather is never good for distance running. Now then, I’ve run a handful of races that were even hotter than this. But I’ve never suffered so greatly. I think it’s partly/mostly because I’m also out of shape as well. Out of shape + oppressive heat = a nasty outcome.

- I think it was already around eighty by the time I was only about half-way. When I hit that point, I was just under two hours, but I knew the second half would be a death march, and I was right.

- Also regarding the heat, I did consider that since sweat cools the body, and since I’m sweating profusely, and since I have more than my usual surface area these days, all should be good. Right?

- I saw several friends at the start and along the way. That’s one of the things I do like about the Cleveland Marathon.

- Another thing I like about the race is that it does show off my fair city in a good way. I often make mental notes like, this is a cool place. I’ll have to return and enjoy it more when I’m not running a stupid marathon.

Let me close by saying that running is stupid. And running marathons is stupider. Oh, I said that already? Sorry. My brain is baked to well-done.