2020, by the numbers

2020 was a bad year in too many ways to count. But in terms of my running, it was a mixed bag. Since I'm a numbers guy, I will let the numbers tell the story.

3,895.86 - The number of miles I ran according to my running log. This number includes 198.31 walking miles that I only counted in order to achieve the mileage requirements for the Great Virtual Run Across Tennessee (GVRAT). (I actually walked a lot more than that.)

3,697.55 - The number of miles I ran, after removing the 198.31 walking miles. This is the number I will go with, just to be consistent with my previous running logging. This is the highest annual mileage total I've ever managed.

107,149.99 - Total life-to-date miles I have documented so far.

10.83 (or 10:49) - The average pace for my 2020 running miles. This is abysmally slow, but it's actually faster than my average pace in 2019. So there's that. Of course, it would be slower still if I included the walking miles in the average.

10.10 - The average number of miles I ran each day in 2020 (3697.55 / 366).

273 (and counting) - The number of days of continuous running days I did since the last time I missed a day, which was April 2, 2020. It's the most, ever; I've never been much of a streaker, believing that it is somehow good to take a day or two off each week. I'm not sure what got into me this time. Maybe blame it on GVRAT, or to no swimming due to Covid-19. 

3:49 - The time for my best marathon in 2020. I try to really go for it at one or two marathons a year. This one came at the Boston 2.0 race, and I'm pretty happy with it. I also ran a 3:59 at Tallahassee, and that wasn't bad either, considering the shape I was in. My other marathons - Brunswick, Medina Virtual, and Northern Ohio Virtual - were not so stellar. I also ran the Buckeye Woods 50K (where I was the only finisher, so I guess I won), and a few shorter races, some in Florida. GVRAT, though not really a race, was still a challenge. Covid-19 put a huge dent in my own, and everyone else's racing plans. I'll be happy to return to normal racing once the pandemic is over.

Weekly Mileage

Life-to-date mileage

Motivation, Schmotivation

Motivation is usually not a problem. I love to run, and I do it every day, no matter what. Of course, there are always good days and bad days. But in recent weeks, it's been mostly bad. So much so, that it's tough for me to get out and get going.

The lousy weather doesn't help. And so I do stay inside, on the treadmill, for a third or so of my runs.

But lookyahere. I have a marathon in two days, and I am not mentally or physically ready at all. Usually, having something like this on the calendar will be motivation enough. But not so much these days and this race.

How will I do? Stay tuned; you will definitely hear about it.

Quite a White (A Christmas Run Story)

There's a time crunch, but I've got two hours to get my usual ten miles in. Shouldn't be a problem. Should it?

The time restriction is based on the Grandkids' Christmas presents opening schedule. I certainly don't want to be late for that. Starting this early (5:00 AM) should make it all (the run and my presence for the presents) possible. But maybe I should have factored in the snow.

There's a lot of the white stuff - maybe ten inches. I begin my trudging. Early on, I spot daughter Veronica shoveling her nearby driveway. She's doing so so that we will be able to get into her driveway later. After chatting a little, I resume trudging.

It's still snowing. In fact, it's a whiteout at times. But it's also quiet and peaceful. I have the subdivision roads all to myself. I reflect on how I could have just stayed on the warm, dry treadmill this morning. But this is so much better. Even though I won't get as far. Not nearly so. I also reflect on my recent running. It hasn't been very good, but at least it's been something. Outdoor ten-milers for the past two days, plus some treadmill tens before that. I will probably need to stay on the mill for tomorrow's planned long run.

Did I mention that I'm trudging? I can barely pick my feet out of the high snow, and there are even a couple slick spots where some plowing had taken place. My planned ten becomes five, as I call it a day, and begin clearing the snow off my own driveway.

After all that, I do manage to catch the kids and their presents.

Merry Christmas to all!

C-

First Five

I had a friend who would grade all of his runs. He would mark A, B, C, etc. in his running log every time. When I asked what criteria was used to determine a grade, he answered that it was just his own subjective "feeling" about each run.

With that kind of scale in mind, today's run is starting off as a solid B. The grading is especially appropriate because this is a test. Not a Covid test, like the one I recently had, but a running test. You know the kind. To see if I will be at all able to run a marathon (the Brunswick, or 'BM') in two weeks. Such an endeavor is more in doubt than usual this time around. I am out the door (just) before four this morning. That's nearly unheard of these days, but I really do need to get some good and long runs in. And good and long runs take time - time that is best spent by starting early.

Curfew rules are that we should stay indoors between 10PM and 5AM. Since I'm in violation, I stay within my own neighborhood for these first five. The wind is very cold, but in spite of that and the early hour, I'm running okay. I'll give myself a solid B. So far.

Second Six

After a short break, I'm venturing out of the hood for a change. My standard six-mile course takes me up to and across Pearl, and east of the water towers, and back. If anything, I'm doing even better than before. I'm also pleased with the consistency. Hey, maybe I can run more than my planned 18 today. 20 is not out of the question.

Yes, perhaps it's going better than before. But not that much better. The overall grade is still a solid B. So far.

Third Seven

I'm heading out of the hood once more. Seven more will get me to 18. Then maybe I can go back out one more time for a couple more to get up to 20. Today's run is going so well, I am not going to worry too much about the numbers. 

My mile splits for the first couple miles are slower. I'm not concerned, but then they get much slower. My grade is rapidly revised down to B-, then C+, C, and finally down to C-.

I shuffle home, barely vertical. There's no way that I will be going back out. 18 will have to do.

Recap

It was a pretty good run. Until it wasn't. At least I passed the BM test, Barely.

Note to Self

Note to self: when pulling up your two pairs of undies (originally under your tights, for warmth) after a bathroom stop, ALWAYS do the inner ones first. Otherwise, the resulting entanglement will take much more time.

Enough Negativity

Of course, there's good negativity and there's bad negativity. The bad negativity is occurring during this morning's run, just as it has for the last 800 or so previous runs.

For a lot of those other ones, I couldn't even make it outside, opting instead for a slog on the dreadmill. But today, I'm out, and I should be reveling in the conditions: nice and quiet, snow (but not too much), and cold (but not too much). It ought to be simply wonderful for this run, but it's not.

I wish I knew why. I'm just not woke, despite the couple cups of coffee. Besides being tired, I'm kinda sore and beat up, even though I shouldn't be. I'd be more concerned if this feeling wasn't so normal these days. Part of it, I'm sure, is related to whatever happened to me last week (it may have been a sinus condition related to the surgery). Part of it, I'm also sure, is that I miss my running friends.

Now I'd dang well better start my training for the Brunswick Marathon.

Negative!

Remember when I had that brain scan and was relieved when the results were negative? Well, it's like that for my Covid-19 test results as well. 

It's a relief, not because I'm feeling better (of course, that helps), but mostly because I didn't want to infect anyone else - especially my family. Now I can enjoy the holidays with them.

I mention feeling better. Maybe I'll even get some measure of running mojo back. 

Some day.

Test

Took me a minute. Should have known the opposite of a Big Push would be a Small Pull, but for some reason, it wasn't coming to me. Now that it did, here's what it all means. 

Last week's Big Push did start out okay, but I faded quite badly over the weekend. Since my weekly mileage is counted from Monday through Sunday, Saturday and Sunday finish up the week. As of last Friday, things were looking pretty good. All I would need to approach 80 miles for the week was about 18 on Saturday followed by around 10 on Sunday. I can usually do that in my sleep. But as you may have guessed by now, that didn't happen in either my waking or sleeping hours. And that made it a Small Pull instead of a Big Push. Here's why.

Last Thursday I had dental implant surgery. It went just fine. That is, other than the usual feeling of being punched in the face. They also had me on penicillin. No big deal - this isn't my first rodeo. To illustrate that point, Friday's run went fine as well. I purposely cut it a bit short, just to take it easy. Saturday's planned 18 was decidedly not fine. Sunday's run was only marginally better. Here's how this happened.

Just before heading out the door for Saturday's run, I seemed to develop a sudden runny nose. I did not think anything of this until it began to affect my run. That run started slow and then got worse and worse. I barely made it to 8 miles, much less 18, as the sniffling, breathlessness, and general fatigue all conspired against me. These conditions continued to worsen as the day wore on. But it wasn't until late Saturday and early Sunday that I began to worry a little more. Here's why.

Saturday, my daughter Veronica told me that my symptoms, which I thought were due to a cold, could also possibly be from Covid-19. Sunday, I felt at least as bad, if not worse. As noted, I did get out to run Sunday morning. "Don't you always get out of breath when you run?" asked wife Debbie. "Yes," said I, "but not this much." Every attempt at putting a foot forward was met with breathlessness, fatigue, and even some muscle soreness. I did some research and analysis and made a decision. Here's what it was.

It could very well be a cold. Interestingly, when we aren't exposed to very many people due to the pandemic, we not only reduce our chances of getting Covid-19, but also a cold or the flu. So I haven't been sick for a while. But still, a cold is probably the most likely culprit. It also could be a reaction to the surgery, or (more likely) to the penicillin. Or, as I mentioned, it could be the Big One - Covid-19. Whether it's a cold or Covid, it likely came to me during that surgery. I have tried to very safely shop when needed, but that's been the only other possible source of any viral infection of any kind, assuming that's what this is. Regardless of how I may have gotten it, it would really help to know. My decision was to get a Covid-19 test. Here's how that went.

The only testing place I could find on a Sunday was the CVS Wadsworth store. I stayed in my car and used the swab according to the drive-through lady's directions. I dropped it off, and hope to hear back from CVS within three days. The results can't come soon enough. Here's why.

Of course, I'm very worried about spreading anything to my family. As of now, I'm just doing my best to stay isolated. Not to mention that my running went from abysmal to <whatever is much worse than abysmal>. I will report back when I receive the verdict.

The Big Push

You heard it here first, folks. Last week, I said, "Next week starts the Big Push." Well, it's started.

Not well. But it's started. The mileage is back up, although a lot of the miles have been on the mill. Those mill miles include a "long" 18.6-mile run the other day. I'm trying to not lose much of a step now that that's done. 

No aurora borealis this morning. They'd been forecasting that sightings were possible, but I got nuthin. At least I was outside for a change. The (finally) warmer weather helped. We will see how the rest of the weekend goes.

GYSABOT

Of course, GYSABOT stands for, Get Your Sorry @$$ Back Out There. But you knew that, didn't you?

The phrase comes into play when the conversation during the bathroom breaks goes like this:

Dan1: I'm not feeling it today. Yeah, it's only been four miles, but I think I should continue to baby myself some more.

Dan2: Only four miles so far, eh? GYSABOT!

Dan1: Hey, maybe I should hit the mill. That way I could possibly still manage to get a long run in today like I originally wanted.

Dan2: The weather isn't bad this morning. The mill is only a crutch. GYSABOT!!

Dan1: But it's so nice and warm in the house. And the mill is easier. Please?

Dan2: GYSABOT!!!

Dan1: Oh alright. 

~TIME PASSES~

During a later bathroom break...

Dan1: Hey, it's getting later in the morning. I don't like to be out for this long. Time to quit, no?

Dan2: No. GYSABOT!!!!

Dan1: But I'm running so darn slow. Can't I just quit and call it a day? Maybe I can run better and longer tomorrow.

Dan2: It's only been seven and a half miles in these couple hours. Need to get to double digits at the very least. GYSABOT!!!!!

Dan1: But two and a half more miles will kill me. Won't it?

Dan2: GYSABOT!!!!!!

Dan1: Oh alright. 

~TIME PASSES~

Ten miles is achieved. It took three hours, but a lot of that time was spent in conversations like the ones above. 

Next week starts the big push.

Next Week Starts the Big Push

You've heard it here before: Next Week Starts the Big Push.

It's especially true now. The wacky weather this week - Monday's and Tuesday's snowstorm - combined with Sunday's 50K, have resulted in one of my stinkiest running weeks in a really long time. I've been babying myself like I haven't in months and months.

But Next Week Starts the Big Push. Mostly because the Brunswick Marathon is looming.

Me and My 1986 Running Pants

It's dark, it's cold, it's windy, and it's snowing sideways. And here I am, playing in the snow. That, at least, was the original intention. Now that I'm out in it, it's not quite as much fun as anticipated.

I reckon that there are about six inches of the stuff. And it's not just regular snow. It's wet/sloppy/slushy/heavy snow. Our street has only been plowed on one side. I pick the unplowed side. I start off running with the wind, and although it's tough to pick up my feet, the conditions don't seem too awful. But then I turn the corner and begin running directly into the wind and blowing snow. And it's about this time that the footing gets worse as well.

It takes me 31 minutes and 57 seconds to cover 1.97 miles. This on a day when I was going to run the usual ten miles. BW50K is still lingering in my bones from two days ago, but I don't feel all that awful. At least I didn't at the start of the run. Now that I've done this much, I decide to call it quits and shovel the driveway.

The pants? I should begin by stating that it took nearly as long to get dressed as it did to run this morning. One of the articles of clothing that I had donned is my pair of Gore-Tex pants from 1986. They're bright silver - almost like a spacesuit. For some reason, I did not also wear the matching jacket. Had I done so, I would have looked like I was ready for a mission to Mars.

Speaking of spacesuits, in 1986, Gore-Tex was new. Or at least it seemed so with regards to running clothes that I was familiar with. I was under the impression that the material had been developed as part of NASA's efforts in space. This article does not mention the space race, so maybe I was wrong about that. Instead, it seems that the invention was more of a serendipitous accident.

In February 1986, I began working at EDS in Michigan. The company sponsored a 5-mile race at the Michigan State Fair each August, and that year our division added an incentive to increase participation: they would reimburse up to $100 for running gear to the runner who best predicted their time. 

My prediction? 32:30. Funny how I can remember something like that from 34 years ago. (It's also funny that I ran two miles in about that time today.) Without my watch, I had no idea how I was doing until I rounded the final turn. Then I was able to see the clock: 32:20. Naturally, I stopped for a brief moment. Then I sauntered in to finish with a couple seconds to spare. I wound up being the closest predictor.

To claim my prize, I shopped for the latest thing: a Gore-Tex running suit. It cost close to the $100 that I would be reimbursed. It was a decent chunk of change back then.

But just look at how long it's lasted! It will probably outlive me.

Just out of the washing machine after today's run (not me, the pants)

Buckeye Woods 50K History

 12/5/2010 4:46 -First one!

11/27/2011 4:50

11/25/2012 4:57

12/8/2013 4:45 -Fastest!

11/30/2014 5:59

11/29/2015 5:17

11/27/2016 5:49

11/26/2017 5:11

07/1/2018         6:19 -Slowest (it was 95F), also I won (was the only finisher)

11/25/2018 5:25 -I won!!

12/1/2019 N/A -Only did 25K because I had to catch a flight

11/29/2020 5:52 -I won (I think)!

The Buckeye Woods 50K is a race I started ten years ago. I am happy to report that thanks to Medina County Road Runners club volunteers and race directors, it's still going. I'm also happy to report that I am still going. 

Yesterday's low-key race wasn't my worst, but I did feel pretty lousy towards the end. I am mostly happy to report that it's over!

2020 Buckeye Woods 50K Race Report

 

My six laps. From the looks of the map, the Earth must have shifted during the run. Or may it's a tear in the space-time continuum

Lap 1 of 6: It's dark, and after a slow first couple miles around the wetlands, now that I'm in the wooded part of Buckeye Woods, I am running slower than most people walk. I'll blame my lazy gate on the darkness (the moon is setting) and the cold (27 degrees!). I should also place some blame on not wanting to trip and do a face-plant in the dark, frozen mud.

Lap 2 of 6: Things are now a little better. During the last part, I see Debbie Scheel at the turnaround area. I manage to stay ahead of her, but I know that this lead won't last.

Lap 3 of 6: My lead doesn't last. We do run together a bit, but we stay 10 feet or more apart. As we head into the woods, she gets ahead of me. That's okay. I think this is probably my fastest loop anyway.

Lap 4 of 6: I am still feeling good. The sun is shining, and it's warming up nicely. I see a few other runners out on the trails. The Medina County Road Runners Club has purposely kept this small club-only race even smaller due to concerns about the pandemic. They succeeded. The purposeful lack of organization also enabled me to start early, since there was no official start time.

Lap 5 of 6: Okay, it's starting to get real. I changed into lighter clothing, and this helped. A little. But I'm getting a bit tuckered out.

Lap 6 of 6. Well, I ran a half-way, not-too-awful marathon if you ignore those first five miles. But now it's really getting real. After the wetlands, I slow to a crawl. I'm happy to finish this loop, but that means I still have a mile to go.

Lap 7 of 6: There's a mile loop to be done. It's usually done at the start of the run, but today I saved it for last. It ought to be easy since it's paved and flat. But after 30 miles, it's tough. When I arrive back at the shelter, my watch tells me I've run 31.02 miles in 5:52. Those last few were a struggle.

Epilog: I don't know whether anyone else ran 50K today. There were a couple other runners out there when I left just before noon. It's possible that I'm first. Or possibly last. Time will tell.

proof!

After

It's Tomorrow

The Buckeye Woods 50K is tomorrow. I'm much more nervous about it than I ought to be. After all, this usually low-key event will be lower-key than ever this year thanks to Covid-19 safety concerns. We will run by ourselves, when we want, and just report our results. No big deal, right?

Probably not, but 31 miles is still a lot. I did manage to run more than that once at the 60K run for Larry Orwin's birthday. But it's still more than I'm used to. And I've certainly been eating a lot lately.

I do plan to go prepared, to start early, and to do my best. We will see.

Turkey Shoot

The morning rain has mostly ended as I go out the door to begin this Thanksgiving Day run. Mostly. And you all know about my disdain for cold rain. Any other Thanksgiving, I would either be doing some kind of Turkey Trot race, or just running with friends. Alas. I'm running alone these (pandemic) days.

The rain is light; mostly just a mist. Even that eventually ends. There's some wind, but none of this bothers me too much because it's relatively warm for this time of year. I'm running the semi-rural roads that make up this 11-mile route. It's a route I haven't done in a while. There's hardly any traffic this early on Turkey Day, and I appreciate the peace and quiet.

It's still dark as I encounter a fairly large four-legged creature in the middle of the road. Without my headlamp, I can't make out whether it's a dog or a coyote. It quietly moves off to the side of the road as I (carefully) go by. I look back to see if it's following me. It isn't. Whew.

Now it's getting light, and I hear a few gunshots. They're in the back of a house that's off the road a bit. I am shaken just a little as I wonder what they're shooting at. Hopefully not me! I do have my bright jacket on so that either makes me a good target, or perhaps something to avoid aiming at. A half-mile later, I hear more gunshots, and they sound much closer this time. Now I'm getting paranoid. I am shaken some more, and this time I stop to look around, but no one is to be seen.

It's probably hunting season. Thankfully (it is the season), this turkey survived.

Disdain for Cold Rain

I make no secret of my disdain

For running in the cold rain

But today it was merely a little cool

So perhaps I’m not so much a fool

And the run caused no more than the usual pain

Know When to Fold 'em

He said, "Son, I've made a life

Out of readin' people's faces
Knowin' what the cards were
By the way they held their eyes
So if you don't mind my sayin'
I can see you're out of aces
For a taste of your whiskey
I'll give you some advice"

So I handed him my bottle
And he drank down my last swallow
Then he bummed a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet
And his face lost all expression
Said, "If you're gonna play the game, boy
You gotta learn to play it right

You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you're sittin' at the table
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the dealin's done

Sometimes I know when to run. I don't always know when to fold 'em, however. But I think I did today.

Saturday was a "good" day at Buckeye Woods. I ran two on my own, followed by five with Debbie Scheel, followed by five with Debbie and Jan Frandsen, followed by some more by myself. Although the initial twelve were fine, I don't always do so well when everyone else leaves me on my own. But this time, with six more to go to be able to call it a long run, things actually did go well. I did three loops around the wetlands, plus some more before and after to get those six. I managed to pick up the pace fairly nicely during this stretch. All's well that ends well. Where have we heard this before?

Sunday did not end so well. I got six in outside before the cold rain got to be too much for me. So I did a couple more on the mill. All in all, the miles were progressively less great. And for the third week in a row, I came close, but could not quite exceed 80 miles.

Monday's slog on the mill was also not so good. In fact, it was worse. What is it about Mondays?

This takes us to today. It's been a few weeks, but today was the day: back to the track. I thought about doing five one-mile repeats. Then I thought about six. Then two 3-mile tempo runs. Then six by one-mile again. Then five again. Miles one through five were pretty much just the right amount of effort and difficulty. I think I could have done one more. But I chose not to. Home I went, leaving something (albeit not much) on the track.

Makes me seem pretty darn smart, right? Not so fast (said the old guy who's current speedwork is like yesterday's slog). Those five did indeed take a lot out of me. It's probably a real good thing that I didn't go for six. 

This Sunday it's Buckeye Woods (the real race). Well, almost real - we're keeping it even more low-key than ever due to COVID safety concerns. It's just come and run, anytime you want. I'm still going to go for 50K. This will still be reasonably important for me, however. I will try not to fold 'em.

Alone Again

Dear Running Friends, I love running with you guys and it makes my running so much better in so many ways. But I've been thinking a lot lately about whether it's worth the risk. Admittedly, we don't know how much risk there is when you run with others, but it's safe to say that it's not zero. Since I am doing my best to reduce all covid-19 related risks, I've decided to reduce this one too. I will be running alone for a while now, at least until it seems safer to join with others once again. I hope it's not too long. I still haven't decided what to do about BW50K, but you will know when I do. Run happy.

Wednesdays

Several of us get together to run every Wednesday for a late afternoon run on the streets of Medina. I've made it to three of these in a row now, and I guess I'll keep doing it. I'm flexible, because, you know, I'm retired now.

But afternoon runs don't come easy for me. I usually do around ten miles that morning, so I arrive fairly worn out. But once we get going for that afternoon sojourn, I'm usually okay. Only just okay. We usually go five to six miles, although yesterday we did seven.

Then there's Thursday. Ugh. I can usually only manage a few lousy miles then.

And even Fridays aren't so great. But maybe tomorrow will be an exception.

Not Their Real Names

5:00 AM: 

Stevie (not her real name), Kate (not her real name), Kate's better half Cliff (not his real name), and Dan (his real name) begin their Saturday Sojourn from Buckeye Woods County Park. Stevie is turning forty years old (and now you have an idea why actual names aren't being used), so of course she wants to run forty miles today. Kate will attempt to accompany her, but Cliff and Dan will run somewhat fewer miles. Dan had tried to tell Stevie that there is no shame in kilometers (because forty kilometers would seem somewhat easier than forty miles), but Stevie adamantly insisted on making a stupid running decision (her words) to celebrate this birthday.

This Fearsome Foursome runs the first couple miles on the Inlet Trail together, then split up (boys left, girls right) at Chippewa Road. Cliff and Dan want to get back to Buckeye Woods in order to meet anyone showing up at 6:00 AM. Stevie and Kate will go longer, but will also return somewhat later. After all, their cars are there.

6:03 AM:

Cliff and Dan had hoofed it, but were still a couple minutes late. No matter; Jeff (not his real name) and Harley (his real name), Jeff's four-legged running partner also arrive at this time. They had been held up by the railroad crossing gates that were down for unknown reasons. Unless the train was invisible.

It's still dark as these four begin their five-mile run on the BW trails. This is the Buckeye Woods 50K course that will be traversed three or four times today, and dozens of times during the actual race two weeks hence. Early on, they spot an owl in a tree right above them. Good thing Jeff had a good strong headlamp.

Cliff peels off and heads back to his car. He has to go to work today. Dan, Jeff, and Harley make it back in one piece. But only barely. The two two-legged guys had managed to trip over roots multiple times. Luckily, neither had done a complete face-plant.

7:00 AM:

Jeff, Harley, and Dan are joined by Martin (not his real name) for this loop. Martin lives in the area but is relatively new to distance running (although he had done some during his earlier school years). For having only been doing this silly thing called running for six months, he is doing phenomenally well. Dan thinks, 'give him time to run with us some more - we'll slow him down and get him injured, not necessarily in that order.'

The sun is rising, and the light reveals that it's a beautiful mid-November morning. There's a heavy frost on everything, and the cold air is causing a mist to rise from the wetland part of the park. Dan thinks, 'this is actually enjoyable.' What's the matter with him?

8:00 AM:

A large crowd of runners had been expected, including the returning Stevie and Kate long-long-run duo. As it turns out, however, others backed out because of the cold (our runners actually feel fairly warm by now) and Stevie and Kate are nowhere to be found. Only Kathleen (not her real name) is there to join the guys for these next five miles.

It turns out that Kathleen and Martin are in a similar line of work, so they have much to discuss during this part of the run. After the wetlands, the now-familiar-to-all course takes these runners into the wooded part of Buckeye Woods. That's where the roots (now very familiar to Jeff, Harley, and Dan) reach out for anyone and everyone scooting by. One of them does manage to grab hold of Martin, causing him to stumble forward. Dan, who's in front, manages to turn around 270 degrees in order to catch Martin before he hits the ground. Dan thinks, 'why is there never anyone around to prevent my own face-plants?'

9:00 AM:

Martin, Dan, and Kathleen are done. Jeff and Harley keep going. Stevie and Kate are still out there someplace.

It's been a really nice morning, and a pretty darn good run. 

79.5

I ran 79.5 miles last week. That's not bad, but it was tough to do. During the summer, in the midst of GVRAT, I was cranking out this kind of weekly mileage on a very regular basis, with little trouble. Guess I have a way to go to get back there again.

The good news is that I've been able to run with some old friends again lately. It's nice to catch up.

Monday Madness: A Multitude of Marathon Maladies

My time for yesterday's two runs totaling 26.2 miles was 4:45. I think that's a personal worst time. But even if it had been a personal best, I still wouldn't be all that proud of it. For one thing, I stopped my watch in between the two runs, since I had to drive home to continue the run on the mill. Other than that, I'd been good about not stopping, even for my aid station or the long stop to change clothes. But another aspect I wasn't proud of was that it was all done on the track and the treadmill; not quite the same as a "real" marathon.  All that said, at least I got the mileage done.

What about my many maladies, you ask? Remember how I talked about my hip pointer pain and my Achilles pain and other foot pain? They're still there. But I was somehow working through my various aches and pains during yesterday's run, until the cold, driving rain hit. Then everything began to hurt more and more.

Where do I go from here? Darned if I know.

Northern Ohio Marathon (Virtual) Race Report

Editor's Note: what follows is a conversation between two virtual personalities: Practical Dan (PD) and Not-So-Practical Dan (NSPD). It should be mentioned that these two are in agreement most of the time. But when things go south, so does their relationship.

PD: It took everything we had to break twenty minutes for that last mile (number 19). NOW, are you willing to quit?

NSPD: (Says nothing)

PD: You should have listened to me when I said we ought to quit when the rain began at mile nine.

NSPD: But we were feeling good at the time. Relatively speaking.

PD: Everyone feels good at mile nine. Now, we're ten miles further, and we're definitely not feeling good.  We should at least have changed into dryer and warmer clothes at that point.

NSPD: (Says nothing)

PD: But nooooo. We had to wait until it was too late at mile 18. Way too late, I might add. So late, in fact, that it was nearly impossible to get those dry clothes on at all.

NSPD: (Says nothing)

PD: So now that we've completely crashed and burned, I'll ask again. NOW, are you willing to quit?

NSPD: Okay, okay, okay. I suppose we've let this cold rain and the general aches and pains get the better of us. Let's get to 19.2. Then we can do the other 7 on the treadmill.

PD: What? More on the mill? Are you crazy?? We can hardly even stay vertical. How the heck are we going to do even this 0.2, much less seven more?

NSPD: Look. We changed the Northern Ohio Marathon entry from in-person to virtual. Since we did that, we are pretty much obligated to at least run 26.2 miles today. Besides, more on the mill won't be so bad once we get going on it. And at least that will get us out of this miserable, cold rain. Yeah, the mill will be boring, but so is running in circles around this here track.

PD: Okay. Let's get home, and then we'll see.

NSPD: Okay.

<<An Hour and a Half Later>>

PD: Well, we did it. 26.2 miles. I knew we could.

NSPD: No you didn't. But yeah: we be done. Not something to be proud of, but done is done.

Switching to Virtual

I place my butt in the bed. Raise my right leg up to follow it. Then I swing my left leg up, over, and in. YEEEOOOWWWW! There's a sudden, unexpected, sharp pain in my left hip. It's around the front corner a bit, so you could almost say that it's the top of my thigh instead of my hip.

It probably shouldn't have been quite so unexpected. I experienced the same pain yesterday night as I got into bed. But I had stretched and strengthened the thing all day, and I thought it was mostly better. The pain was also more intense today. And this time, there was some anguish and disappointment rolled in with the sudden suffering.

What could cause such a thing? Darned if I know. I did have a sudden psoa problem whilst running in North Dakota a month ago. I recovered from that, but I don't know whether this is related; it's close to the same general area.

Two point six miles: that's the goal for today. It's ten percent of the distance I'm supposed to run at tomorrow's Northern Ohio Marathon. Not much of a test, but it's something. The pain I experienced last night has mostly subsided, but I'm running quite gingerly. The slow, easy forward motion of my legs is generally pain-free, but then  I step up onto a curb with a slight sideways motion. And there it is again: that same pain. That does it. The decision is made.

As soon as I get home, clean up, and eat breakfast, I change my marathon entry from in-person to virtual. It's a darn shame because:

• Virtual racing is not the same as in-person racing. Not even close.
• I had been looking forward to this race. I had that double-or-nothing beer bet with Deb Horn riding on it. Not to mention that I've enjoyed this race in past years.
• Also not to mention that this was going to be my "A" race for the entire year. That got changed a little when I "went for it" and ran hard at Boston 2.0 two weeks ago. Even so, I thought I might be able to approach that performance.
• I had been experiencing other aches and pains after Boston 2.0, but I thought I had them under control. Evidently not.

I will probably do my run at a track. It's easier to support myself and also easier to quit if something goes wrong. But of course, you ask, what could go wrong?

Ouch, Ouch

If you don't want to experience a painful post, you may want to skip this one. I've written about pain before, notably (because it's still with me), this one about my Achilles Tendonitis. It references some others as well. Some of the post titles say it all: Step, Ouch, Step Ouch, and Step, Ouch, Repeat. Staying with that theme, I've titled this one, Ouch, Ouch.

Yes, the old AT is back. I've had it for at least six years, but the pain mysteriously subsided almost entirely this past summer. But have no fear: it's back as bad as ever these days. Here's the thing: I don't know what I did to bring it on originally; I don't know what I did to make it go away (I was running Big Miles and also some speedwork during the summer); and I don't know what I did to bring it back again. If I did know any of these things, it would probably be a great help in prevention.

If AT was my only issue, I could have just repeated that previous post title of Step, Ouch, Step Ouch for today's story. But keen observers will note that today's post title is different. It's just, Ouch, Ouch. My left foot evidently felt left out since the AT pain was in the right one. So it decided to have its own issue: Morton's neuroma. I don't know who Morton was, but I certainly don't like his neuroma. The condition is a thickening (and inflammation) of the tissue around one of the nerves leading to one's toes. It can cause a sharp, burning pain in the ball of the foot. I've had it before, and guess what? I've got it again.

The good news is that this neuroma thing often gets better on its own with proper rest and recovery. Not that I'll do any of that; I've got a marathon in five days, not to mention a 50K and then another marathon.

Running in Kentucky

We're visiting Mammoth Cave National Park and Cumberland Gap National Historical Park. For the first couple of nights (and to visit the former), we stayed in Horse Cave, KY. I ran a few miles from our Horse Cave hotel to the village proper of Horse Cave. I got to explore the town, but the run there and back on the busy highway wasn't so nice.

My second run in Horse Cave was better. I ran East on Fisher Ridge Road, then back on Flint Ridge Road. Going out, it was dark, rural roads through farms and forests. The only problem was some untethered dogs. A stick and the headlamp helped me get through. Coming back on Flint Ridge was nicer. It was beginning to get light, and I could see for miles. It was quite scenic.

After visiting Cumberland Gap, we stayed in Corbin, KY. My run there was, at least, interesting. I managed to get away from the Fairfield, the Baymont Inn, Knight's Inn, Quality Inn, and the Hampton Inn. Past the Love's, the Cracker Barrell, Hardee's, Sonny's BBG. Away from McDonalds, Wendy's, Shell, BP, etc. This time, I actually did manage to get away from the I75 interchange with all the trucks, traffic, and all the other stuff fairly quickly. The only fly in today's ointment was that I ran so slowly that I didn't get very far at all. Oh well. At least I did run.

A Few More Marathon Thoughts

Yes, I'm still re-living Sunday's little marathon. It was originally going to be a final tune-up for the Northern Ohio Marathon, which takes place in two weeks on November 1. But when I saw the weather and the course (and not to mention the beer bet), I decided to go for it. As it turned out, I ran as well as I think I could. 

And don't get me wrong. I am pretty happy with my 3:49 time. The best part about it is that I held my pace and finished strong. That makes for an enjoyable experience. I wrote about this in another recent post.

But. 

My best marathon time in 2017 was 3:43. In 2018, it was 3:46. Last year I did 3:48. Now that I'm a minute slower than that, I may have to admit that I'm slowing down... Some more.

I do now have that double or nothing beer bet with Deb Horn for Northern Ohio. Will I be able to run well at all again after this one?

Much of the soreness and fatigue is finally going away. So now that I have a week and a half to train, what should I do?

Boston 2.0 Race Report

Ever had one of those races where everything goes well, and just according to plan? Me neither. But Boston 2.0 came fairly close. With perfect running conditions (great weather, flat course, simple logistics, etc.) I ran as well as I could have expected: 3:49 and change.

Race Director Brian Polen did a good job on this replacement for canceled Boston. I believe this run itself may have been postponed, but I'm glad it happened. And it seemed to be done with much care towards keeping everyone safe from the coronavirus. Good job, Brian!

The out and back course took place almost entirely on an all-purpose trail in Ohio Amish Country. In this part of the world, all-purpose includes horses and buggies. I encountered several during the sojourn. I ran much of the way with Debbie Horn, who lives not too far away and who usually runs about my pace. Give or take.

In fact, we had a bet riding on this one: the loser would buy the winner a beer. I don't often bet on my races, especially with a world-class ultrarunner like Debbie. But -> I managed to outlast her this day. And I am looking forward to the "Amish" beer. However, there's this:

Two questions remain. One: when you encounter an Amish buggy on an all-purpose trail, do you go to the left or the right? No one seemed to know which way was best, but I usually went to the left because there seemed to be more room on that side. I didn't want to upset the horses. Or the riders. Two: Debbie now wants to bet me double or nothing. We are both running the Northern Ohio Marathon in two weeks. I'm not sure I'll be able to run this well again so soon. What should I do?

Reflections on Runner's High

There have been many times when I've reflected on why I run. Some such introspection, I think, goes with the territory. When you're running, you quite naturally spend at least some time thinking about what you're doing and why. One of my personal favorite answers to the 'why I run' question is, because it feels good when I stop. But there are plenty of others. The physical health benefits, the mental health benefits, the social aspects, and the joy of competition are a few. Another is the fact that running simply makes you feel good.

Feel good, how, you ask? Lots of ways, and this gets into the physical, mental, and emotional reasoning, of course. A lot of people assume that it's the endorphins produced by intense exercise that keeps driving runners back for more. Perhaps. But according to a Healthline article, a "runner's high" is not caused so much by endorphins as by endocannabinoids. Like endorphins, exercise releases endocannabinoids into the bloodstream. If you feel euphoric or deeply relaxed after a run, these molecules may actually be the responsible party. (Alert readers may have noticed that the name includes 'cannab'. The molecules act on your endocannabinoid system. This is the same system that’s affected by tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the active compound in cannabis. Now you know.)

The article goes on to say that a runner's high is a state of deep euphoria caused by lengthy or intense exercise. Not all runners get it, and even those who do may not get it often, consistently, or for very long. I think I've been lucky enough to achieve such nirvana (I'm never entirely sure) but it's been exceedingly rare.

I'm going to relate this to marathons because it's where I've got the most experience, but I'm sure it may apply to other distances (or to non-races) for some runners. Perhaps 60-80 percent of my marathons end badly. This is because I got tremendously tired or possibly even injured during the run, and I had to slow down. It's a downright lousy feeling. 

But then there are the others; that small percentage of races that do end well. They do so because I suddenly found another gear in the final miles. I've said this before: there's no feeling in the world like being able to run strong at the finish of a marathon. All cylinders firing, feeling invincible, passing other runners, achieving some time or other goal, euphoria; all these things happen at once. Although I may have experienced it at other times, these are the runner's highs that I remember best.

And even though these experiences are so rare, they make all the other times - the runs that don't end so well - worth it. This isn't the only reason why I run, but it sure helps.

And Another Strange Thing Found

A few days ago, I found the strangest thing anyone ever found on a run. Here is the post about that one. Don't miss it - I don't think it will ever be beat. Yesterday's discovery, however, was pretty good too.

Maureen Oblander, Michelle Wolff, Andy Wolff, and Our Man Dan start their Sunday morning run at the Medina Square. Where to go? Maureen suggests the new trail south of town, where you wind up on Ryan Road. The rest readily agree since anything else would require conscious consideration, something in short supply so early in the morning.

They run through Medina residential neighborhoods until they arrive at a bike trail. They turn onto it and keep going. As the trail ends, they emerge into another (newer) subdivision. 

They immediately spot signs of the previous night's neighborhood party. Several yards and driveways have party paraphernalia on display, and it must have been a good one. One yard has a table set up on the tree lawn. It looks just like an aid station for a race, except that no one is manning or womaning the thing. And also except for what's available for anyone coming by: booze. All kinds of assorted booze in half-empty bottles (yes, I'm that half-empty guy when it comes to booze).

Of course, the runners make remarks about the "aid station" and then take a photo. Good thing, since no one would believe them otherwise.

Michelle, Dan, and Andy  photo by Maureen

Running in Michiana

Don't blame me for coining the word, Michiana; people around here (Michigan City, IN, which is very close to the border), seem to use it regularly. We stayed in Michigan City in order to visit Indiana Dunes National Park. I ran over that way, but couldn't quite get there. Unfortunately, the running around here really wasn't the greatest; dark semi-rural roads that nevertheless had some fast-moving vehicles.

Had I been able to get over to the waterfront, things may have gotten better, running wise. I did eventually find some sidewalks and even some (safer) neighborhoods to run through. Unfortunately for my two runs there, it was too little, too late. There was one interesting find that I will describe in a separate post.

The Traverse City (we stayed there to visit Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore) running was different. I was lucky enough to find a bike path to run on right away. I ran the 3-4 miles down to the bayshore in order to follow other paths along the waterfront. This running was great, despite the traffic wizzing by at five-thirty in the morning. I can say that I thoroughly did enjoy these runs.

For a description of the trip, see my travel blog post.

Picking them up, putting them down

The phrase, Picking them up, putting them down is usually a mantra for what to do with your feet in order to run. Usually... It takes on a slightly different meaning here.

It's pitch dark as I jog away from the Michigan City Holiday Inn Express. Yet the traffic whizzes by and there isn't much room on the sides of the roads. I eventually find a sidewalk on Ohio street. Those Ohioans sure know how to do things right, think I. 

Right away, I run right by an object on the walkway. I know I ought to just keep running and minding my own business, but instead, I stop and turn around to examine it. It turns out to be something I've never encountered on a run before: a dildo. I know what you're thinking: "You're not going to touch that thing, are you, Dan?" Well, of course, I am. I do, however, hesitate a little. Recalling that the Coronavirus doesn't live long on surfaces, I determine that I'm probably safe from that disease. Of course, I'm aware that other germs may be present as well. After all, we don't know exactly where this thing has been. I try not to think about any of this too much as I reach for it.

Picking it up, I realize that it's much heavier than I anticipated. Yet it's rubbery and slightly flexible. It's kind of deep purple-ish in color, but it's hard to tell in the dark. I consider that this is the first dildo I've held in I don't know how long. (How's that for ambiguity?) The next obvious question is, what do I do with it now? 

I consider how pleasantly surprised Debbie the Lady Adventurer would be if I brought it back to her. Hey, I think, I can even put it in a box, like in the Saturday Night Live skit. Imagine her delight! Also, imagine how I would look running back into the hotel holding the thing.

No, I think I had better leave it be. But this presents a problem. I actually have a personal rule that if I pick up any detritus during a run, I then own it. If I decide to get rid of it again, I must dispose of it properly, rather than just discarding it back where I found it. In this case, however, I make an exception and I do replace the dildo close to where I found it. I do, however, ensure that it's in an upright position this time.

I get home and wash my hands. I tell Lady A. about it. Turns out that she would not have been delighted at all if I'd brought it back.

Maybe someone else will find it and be able to put it to good use.

When a Hill Has a Name

Effie in Winter

This is a piece I wrote for the MCRR Newsletter several years ago. Brings back some good old memories. It's about what actually happens during one particular Sunday at Hinckley.

It's 5:30 A.M., and I'm only now just trying to pull into the Spillway parking lot. There have been times when I've arrived early (as early as 4), but this is not one of them; 5:30 in the A.M. is just fine today, thank you. I say I am trying to pull in. The road into the park from Bellus is barricaded off. This is a first. I guess that it's because of the snow that has been falling steadily for a couple hours now, although it has remained open during times of more snow than this.

A car just ahead of me is turning around at the barricade as well. It's Frank Dwyer, who is equally flummoxed. We decide to park at the ranger station just down the road. There are already two cars in the lot, and running back to the lot we see Caitlin Oblander and Rick Roman. Over-achievers that they are, they had arrived at 5 to run a three-mile loop around the lake as a warm-up. Now they're cheerfully imparting tales of running on the barricaded/deserted, snow-covered road, since the all-purpose trail's footing was worse.

The four of us, including Fank in his shorts (!), are about to start out on our nine-mile loop, when Debbie Scheel shows up. It occurs to us that several runners may be a little late today due to the snow on the roads. Regulars Jack Reilly and Michelle Wolff would not be among them at all this time. I am surprised that this many made it so far.

The five of us are about to begin running when more cars begin to arrive. It's Christina Sparks, Rob Lisy and Alan Dravenstott. Once again, the snowy weather had slowed them down a bit. I'm now quite surprised at the showing.

The eight of us start out running up the hill on Bellus. But we don't get too far. Other cars are also arriving. We decide to turn back, trying to get word to everyone to not bother trying to get into the normal parking lot. It doesn't work; everyone tries to make the turn, finds the barricades, and then decides to park back with the rest of us.

This time it's Jeannine Nicholson and Ladd Clifford. They ask us to wait yet another minute for Connie Gardner, who was just behind. I haven't seen these folks here, this early on a Sunday, for many a moon. Ladd and I briefly reminisce about an early morning 24-hour training run we did here a few years ago, in which we did ten three-mile lake loops in cold, icy conditions.

Connie is still getting out of her car as the rest of us begin our run, for good this time. It occurs to me that there is no one - not one person - who's my speed. Well possibly Christina, but even she usually leaves me in the dust the last couple miles. I consider letting everyone go on without me and doing lake loops, but when I voice this thought, Debbie and the rest reassure me that I won't need to run alone.

Heading up Bellus Hill, not to be confused with Effie, I have my doubts. It's oxygen debt almost from the get-go. Bellus is actually even higher than Effie, but at least Bellus is over with rather quickly. We're forced to watch and contemplate Effie for about two miles after turning onto Ledge Road. And of course Effie hits half-way through the run, when one is already somewhat beat up from all the other hills.

For the two or three people left on Planet Earth who do not know what Effie is, it’s a hill on Ledge Road. When a hill has a name, you know it’s a bad one. And when that name is Effie, as in F this hill (coined by Angie Kovacs), you know it’s really bad.

Throughout the run, I'm enjoying the conversation, especially with some of the folks whom I hadn't run with for a while. Connie, Jeannine and Ladd are the same as ever, and of course the conversation quickly heads down into the gutter. I suppose I'm partly responsible, but I would never admit it.

We're doing our share of slipping and sliding on the partially snow-covered roads. Ladd says that he would rather run on trails, but I point out that when snow covers roads like this, they're just like trails.

Rick and Caitlin are long gone. Debbie, Alan and Connie pull away on or just before Effie. The rest of us more or less stick together, gathering at the top of Effie to complete the last miles as a group. I am very pleasantly surprised that I've been able to keep up with all these great runners today.

We turn onto Kellogg Road. It has more snow than ledge, and of course it's still coming down. We talk about how some will be heading out for a second loop. I am jealous; it's been quite a while since I've been able to manage that much running. These cold, snowy nine would be plenty for me today.

As we finish up, John Pavlik appears in the parking lot, ready to run with the second loopers. this time the direction would be counter-clockwise. What a bunch of rebels. I start out with them, but I don't go too far before turning back.

Another Hickley Sunday run in the books. Nothing special about this one, but then they're all special in some ways. I am so glad I stuck with this one.

Towpath Trail Training Trot: Twenty-Two Today

The Towpath Trail on a Different, but Similar Fall Day

Excuse me if I've used this blog post title before. If so, I can assure you that today's twenty-two was tremendously more tremendous than any previous Towpath trail twenty-two. Now repeat that sentence three times, fast.

Larry Orwin and I started in the dark at 6:00 AM. After four or so murky miles, it began to get light, so we left our headlamps at the car, refueled, and headed south this time. By the time we got to Peninsula, the sun was up, it was getting warmer, and autumn colors were out in all their glory.

We picked up the pace on the way back, and it was time for Larry to call it a day. It had been a good solid 18, but I wanted more. I should say, that with two marathons coming up, I needed more. So back out I went.

Ever had one of those runs where everything goes as planned, and you run well and finish strong? Me neither. But today's run came close. Now running alone, I did manage to keep a decent pace for another four miles.

It's always great to run with Larry. The miles go by fast.

Today's Tempo Training Trot

Tired and sore. That's my answer to any question at any time about my well-being. I wish I knew why.

The good news is that today, it was a little less so. I ran up to North Park, where I do five or more loops around the lake. I picked up the pace once I got there, and I kept it going for those two miles as well as two more on the way home.

After a lot of bad days, this was a decent one.

Do Skunks Squeal?

There I was, minding my own business, running alone in the dark, when I heard it. It was a squealing sound, and I immediately wondered what it could be. Cats? No, they make other noises, even when fighting. Squirrels? I know they make some noises, but not squeals like this. Raccoons? I don't think so; I think they do more of a guttural growl. 

Then I saw them. Two skunks in the middle of the road, squealing away. I don't know what they were up to, and I don't know whether they were squealing at me or at each other. Regardless of their noises and the sight of them, I preferred to not allow this encounter to engage any of my other senses.

I didn't think this would be a problem. Usually, skunks will scurry away when I approach; I only need to not surprise them. These two were well aware of me, and they were holding their ground. I was forced to skirt around them, staying well off to the side.

A half-mile later, I encountered yet another skunk. This one didn't squeal or intimidate. But I had to wonder, did I accidentally step into an alternate universe? Or perhaps it's National Skunk Day, and I wasn't aware?

I completed the run with my dignity and honor unscathed. I think I got back up to about 80 miles for the week. But it almost killed me. ((Squeal))

Four For Fun; Fixing Final Finishes

Run 1

At 4:00 AM, Andy Wolff, Michelle Wolff, and Old Dan (OD) begin their run. The time coincides with the 1:00 AM Pacific Time slot that OD is signed up for. The event in question is The Great National Park Relay Race. Teams of 24 runners are associated with National Parks (but not necessarily each other), and each is assigned a time slot for this day. These three runners are indeed on the same team (North Cascades NP), with starting times of 4, 5, and 6. OD even has a second slot at 6:00 on another team as well.

The pace is pretty easy to begin with. OD wonders how anything at all can possibly be easy at 4:00 AM. But he likes to run here on Lester Rail Trail, even in the dark. He also wonders how he ever ran here at this time in the morning before he owned a headlamp.

By the time they've run two and a half miles, OD determines that he may be able to go a bit faster, so he picks up the pace just a bit. The Wolffs hang back. This is wise; they will have their own timeslots later on. OD gets a little faster each mile, and he winds up completing 6.53 miles by 5:00 AM. He has also worked it out so that he is back at the parking area at this time for a short but much-needed break.

The pace for this first run started easy, but then got real

Run 2

Andy takes off for his 5:00 AM leg. OD thinks about going with him. For about 45 seconds. A second necessity break seals the deal; he will let Andy go and run mostly with Michelle for this hour. They (Michelle and OD) get four and three-quarters miles in by 6:00 AM. Time for another break.

Run 3

Now it's Michelle's turn. And OD's (for his other 6:00 AM leg on that other team). Mallory B

Running in the Dakotas and Beyond

 Marquette, MI

Marquette is a pretty town on the shore of Lake Superior. It’s great for running, too; there are all-purpose trails galore. For the two runs that I did there, I mostly followed the one that runs along the lakeshore. It was dark and cold and wonderful.

During my second 10-mile run, I came to an aid station. This was unusual because there had been almost no other people on the trails at this early hour. I asked the person whether it was for a race of some kind. We have a “rough march” going on, he said (I think). Then I saw that the station was the turn-around for soldiers (perhaps National Guard), dressed mostly in fatigues and carrying backpacks, running in groups of two and three. I ‘soldiered’ on myself, passing some coming toward me, and others that I was catching up and passing. Most said hi as I went by. This all gave me something to concentrate on for the run: catch as many as possible. Out of a few dozen, I think I may have got them all.

International Falls, MN

I thought that if I just ran straight north, I’d come to the border, which is a bridge to Canada (they may call it the bridge to the USA). But in the dark, all I could see was the industrial stuff going on, run by a paper/packaging company called, PCA. There were sluice pipes and piles of pulp all over the place, not to mention smokestacks and factories.

Not finding the border crossing, I jogged around town in several directions. As it began to get light, I returned to where I thought the border crossing was, and it was right there where it should be. You just had to drive under the sluice pipes and next to the smokestacks. I knew I wouldn’t be allowed into Canada, but I just wanted to know that it was there.

Later, I ran by the Smokey the Bear statue (largest in the world!) and also the Bronco Nagurski (now there’s a football name!) museum.

Dickinson, ND

We stayed in Dickinson in order to visit Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Dickinson is home to two universities, and I managed to find (and get in) a stadium in order to hit the track. It wasn’t easy to get moving after all the slow and easy running I’ve been doing, but I did manage to get a tempo run in. Glad I did.

Psoa that’s what happened. I went to the track for my second consecutive day of Something of Slight Substance. This time it was mile repeats. Things we going swimmingly until I noticed that my left leg was numb and I couldn’t pick it up to move forward properly. I’ve had this problem before, and now I’ve got it again. I stopped at three intervals and limped home. My thought is that it may have happened due to my lack of strength and stretching exercises on this trip. I’ll need to work on that.

Rapid City, SD

Rapid City would be our staging area for visits to the Black Hills, including Mount Rushmore and Wind Cave NP, and also Badlands NP. Although it’s supposed to be a real nice city, the area we’re staying in, right by I90, decidedly isn’t. It’s all freeways, trucks, exhaust, and fast-drivers. In other words, there’s no place to run.

Not that I’m very good at running anyway. After that psoa problem, I’ve decided to take it easy and run slow. Yes, even slow for me. That means not getting very far. Oh well. It could be worse. Not running at all is worse. The best news is that that psoa problem seems better.

And that’s it. I’m keeping the streak alive, but I can’t be real proud of that right now. At least I’m vertical.

For a nicer description of the entire trip, check out this Horvaths Travels post.

de rigueur

It's been mile intervals for two weeks in a row. And for two weeks in a row, they went okay. This workout used to be de rigueur for marathon training, although the number used to be eight; now it's six. And they were run at least a minute faster. They surely are rigorous, however.

This week's run was pretty similar to last week's, except this time, there were no distractions.

Running Scared

It's getting dark quickly. Our runner believes this to be a somewhat unusual, at least at this time of the morning. It "dawns" on him that while it had just begun to get light, the new darkness portends that the storm is much closer now.

This same storm had been in the distance since the run began a couple hours ago. Lightning had intermittently lit the sky, but it seemed far off to the west and north. Then it began to seem closer, and eventually, some thunder could also be heard. Our runner, who had originally been only slightly concerned, is now running as fast as he can to get home before the skies open up completely.

It's too bad that fast is such a relative term. Our runner had been running at nearly walking pace. And now that he's sprinting, it's still no better than a slow jog in actual (not relative) terms.

A few drops come down. It's now as dark as night (again). He's on his street. Can he make it? Well, can he?

Yes! He can and he does. He gets to his house of residence after encountering only a couple raindrops. Within a couple minutes, the skies do open up, and the deluge begins.

Asking for a friend

At some point, fighting to achieve a weekly mileage goal becomes counter-productive. My "friend" wants to know where that point is.

My friend tries for 80 miles (used to be 70) per week. He doesn't always make it, but he usually does, and this is partly due to his GVRAT experience. Since he ran all those miles for GVRAT, he now doesn't want to back off. He's worried that that would negatively impact his fitness. Of course, running too many miles can lead to injury, which would also negatively impact fitness.

But the real problem (and the reason for the question) is that he does some strange things to achieve these miles. Like run VERY slowly. Like running on the mill. Etc. What a nutcase.

Today's Tremendous Towpath Trail Training Trot

Tough Twenty Today.

Okay, enough alliteration. Larry Orwin and I met at Station Road Bridge and headed out for our long run. It was a beautiful autumn-like day, and as it began to get light, we quickly fell into a good, solid pace. We saw some other friends near Peninsula as well as on the trail. 

The pace continued to get better and better, until miles 19 and 20 were actually under marathon pace. The highlight of the run, however, was the bald eagle sighting. It was up in a tree, just above us as we ran by. The early morning sun lit it up nicely. It was quite a sight.

MW vs TT

Monday and Wednesday runs are often not so good. Tuesday and Thursday runs are often okay, and sometimes even rise to the level of decent. That leaves the weekend. Fridays are more often as bad or worse than Mondays. Saturdays and Sundays are usually with friends, so they're usually pretty good.

Today's run started slowly, but I was able to get down to tempo pace for the minimum three miles (all were around Brunswick Lake), before the inevitable crash. Some decent running is better than none at all.

That's just the way it goes here in Dan-Land.

Squirrel!

Is that a full bag of chips? Delirious Dan is between 1-mile repeats at Buckeye HS. In the early morning near-total darkness, he can't tell. Figuring that he can certainly use the salt and fat, he stops entirely, and then jogs back a few steps to pick the bag off the side of the track. It's nothing of the sort! Instead, it's a plastic bag containing an orange peel and other filthy assorted garbage.

Delirious Dan, whose brain certainly does require something, figures that since he picked up the trash, he now owns it, so he dutifully carries it half-way around the track to the nearest trash can.

Alas. With the chips being only a distant dream in the darkness, Dan soldiers on. A few more 1-mile pickups (six in all) make for a tough workout. He needs this kind of stuff. He really does.

Turns out to be a pretty good run. (But it might have been better with some chips).

Sore and tired, or is it the other way around?

Maybe it's just being tired and sore. But perhaps the soreness should take precedence. I don't know.

I do know that the culprit is likely Saturday's Wooster Brick Run. It took more out of me than I thought it would.

At least I got my (double-digit) miles in today. It sure wasn't easy.

Motivation, Schmotivation

It's a given that GVRAT provided tons of motivation for me to run all those miles. Ever since I've been done with it, I'd been a little concerned about undergoing a letdown. This didn't happen... until this week. 62 miles: my lowest weekly total mileage since March or April.

And it's not like there was a lot of quality, either. There was the race, but that's pretty much it.

Now I'm mad. Next week starts the big push.

Wooster Brick Run Race Report

Where do I go? It's mile 13 or so (out of 15.5), and I'm downright lost as I run down (and I do mean down) into downtown Wooster. A couple other runners came this way too, but they're now nowhere to be seen. I think I can get there on Bever Street, but it just doesn't seem right. I am currently doing the worst possible thing: just standing there, looking around and wondering. 

I decide to run west, through the College of Wooster campus. There I finally see other runners. I'm back on the course. When I hit mile 14, I determine that I probably lost a third of a mile or so. Not to mention the time I spent standing around. 

Now I start sprinting down (and I do still mean down) into Wooster. These last couple miles are almost entirely down. 

It's not like I didn't pay the price. The hills have been huge. I've done this race before, but I forgot how big they are. And did I mention the humidity? It's about as oppressive as it gets.

I manage to finish in something like 2:24 - a 9:10 pace. The splits were wildly up and down, depending on the hills. I'd thought that maybe a 9-minute pace was doable, but I guess not. I'll take it.

Seeing everyone before, during, and especially after the run was tons of fun. I'd forgotten how much fun racing can be.

Like it was yesterday

Today's run - this time on the Lester Rail Trail - is going just like yesterday's. I start slow, then pick it up (a little) each mile. That is, until mile six. Then it all goes haywire, and I hit a wall of sorts. I only do eight because I'm out of time. They can't all be gems.

Compression

Mile 1: I'm at the track, but I almost didn't make it out at all. I don't know why I'm so tired and so sore all the time. This, even though yesterday was fairly easy. Sunday's Hinckley hills and Saturday's long run must be what's doing it. As expected, I run slowly. I had been sort of thinking of doing mile intervals, or else a ladder workout (sets of say, 1600/1200/800). Now I know I will need at least a second mile to wake up.

Mile 2: Things are not getting better. I'll need a third mile. This is not typical of my last few track workouts, by the way. I'm usually getting started on the intervals by this time.

Mile 3: I'm only running marginally faster than I did for my first two. I will need still more time to wake up. I know. It's getting ridiculous.

Mile 4: Hey, I know. Maybe I will just do a tempo run. Maybe I will start that at mile 5.

Mile 5: I'm still not woke. Although my pace has continued to get marginally faster with each passing mile, I'm still not anywhere near tempo pace. Maybe I can still get down to tempo pace at mile 6. On the other hand, perhaps I won't do anything at all of substance today. We'll see what mile 6 brings.

Mile 6: We'll, mile 6 did not bring tempo pace. The pace that I am running has gotten better still, but it's not where it needs to be. Maybe I will just call this an Aerobic Threshold (AT) run and call it a day. But I still want to do ten, and who knows? Maybe I can still get down to tempo pace.

Mile 7: There's one more chance to be able to call this a tempo run. It will involve running each of the last three miles at eight-ish minute per mile pace. This is my best mile yet, but I'm still more than a half-minute too slow. I stop for water and collect myself. Okay, time to fly.

Mile 8: I fly. It's tough, but not quite as bad as anticipating. But can I do two more?

Mile 9: That's one more, and it's even a wee bit faster than the previous one.

Mile 10: The pace is better still, and I complete the tempo run with flying colors.

Mile 10+: I don't have time to cool down as much as I would have liked. I'm exhausted anyway. Not a great run today, but at least it was something of substance. One other thing. With each mile getting faster than the previous one, I can also call this a compression run.