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.