It's Pity Party Time Again

I had about three to four really good weeks in a row. The PF was all but gone, and the butt pain had also mostly subsided. My most recent blog post, Miles and Miles, about all these miles I've now been able to do, reflected this new-found optimism. I also mentioned my new, miraculous ability to run long when I wrote about one of my 30-mile training runs. I had even managed to do a bit of speedwork and some tempo runs.

You guessed it. Something snapped, and it all came crashing down the other night at the track. And now I am once again wallowing in self-pity. Here's how it happened:

1) Last Thursday I did another 30. It went well - I managed a nine-minute pace throughout, and the last few miles were the fastest. I was pretty durn happy with myself.
2) After taking Friday off, and with plans to also take Sunday off, I decided to meet up with MCRR friends at Hinckley Saturday. 10 miles would get me up to 80 for the week - way more than my usual 70. Instead of one nine-mile loop, peer-pressure got to me and I wound up doing two. Even though the 'ole legs were a little tired, the run itself went really well.
3) Now my legs were really tired. Instead of a long run on Monday morning, I only did 10. Tuesday morning should have been really easy since the Second Annual MCRR Track Meet was scheduled for the evening. But... I felt pretty good and actually got down to tempo pace for 3 of the 8 miles.
4) Then came the Meet. Before that tempo run, I'd been hoping that I could put up a fast time for the 5K that was on the schedule. Now I wasn't so sure about it. But no matter - I'd just do the best I could. No worries. Except when it hurts... Bad. It was during the first event, the 1600. I didn't feel a snap; the butt pain - just like I'd had earlier in the year - just came on, and it got progressively worse.

And wouldn't you know it? With all that optimism, I had registered for a bunch of races, including the Moebius 50K and the River Run Half. I'd previously registered for a bunch more, like NC24, Akron Marathon and the Perfect 10-Miler. That Perfect 10 is tomorrow, and it is definitely not going to be pretty.

Stay tuned for more self-pity.

Miles and Miles

I'm back. Back to doing long runs - and reasonably successfully - that is.

My most recent little injuries are beginning to subside, and once in a great while, the miserable heat subsides too. But that heat and my mom's medical problems have made it challenging. I tried to work in some quality earlier in the week. It wasn't spectacular, and I wound up shuffling home those times.

But Friday, despite high heat and humidity, I got out early and did another 30-miler. Like the last (good) time, I did many of the miles at the track. And also like that time, I averaged about 9 minutes a mile, with the last few being the bestest.

I'll take it.

Overall weekly mileage is still hovering around 70. That's okay, but with NC24 coming up, I'll need to step it up sometime.

Speaking of miles, I was the generator delivery man for the Burning River 100-Mile race this year. It felt good to be helpful, but I'm not so sure I want to keep spending so much time volunteering. I may cut that back some.

My Mom (Absolutely No Running Content)

Sorry about this non-running-related post.

We knew it had to happen sometime. Mom would either fall and break a hip, come down with pneumonia, or have some kind of major heart problem. It was the former. But why did it have to happen when I was responsible?

A week and a half ago, Dave, Carol and Mom came over. We went to lunch, and then sat at our house and talked. I had to go to work, so I said I'd drop Mom off at her assisted living home since it's on the way. She and I went into the garage, and I let go of her for one second so as to close the door behind us. Mom tripped over our board as she tried to make her own way between the two cars.

I've played the scene over in my mind a million times. It's almost like a dream. It was only for a second that I'd let go of her. She fell so slowly and almost gracefully. I almost could have reached and caught her, even though I had been reaching back to close the door. Right away, she said, "I broke my hip". We got EMS to take her to SW General.

I can't even say how terrible I feel about all this. Everyone has been extremely understanding, saying it could have happened to anyone at any time. I know. But why me? A few days earlier I had visited her at her assisted living place, and when I was leaving, she told the lady sitting nearby, "He's such a good son".

After a couple days in the hospital, she had surgery. This was scary because no one knew if her heart could take it. It did, and the operation was successful.

The recovery has not been as good as I thought it would be. We understood that it would take time, and that it would be tough for her to walk again. But she's having trouble with just about everything that requires movement. A week after the surgery, she was moved to a nursing home. We had done some extensive research to find a good one for her.

She's getting good care now. They are very intent on getting her back to her former level of movement and independence through physical and occupational therapy. If she can get at least mostly back, she can return to her assisted living home. If not, she'll probably need to stay at the nursing home.

The recovery is still problematic. She has good days and bad days. Since the surgery, she has been more confused than ever. They say it's due to the anesthetic. We've been visiting every day.

All of this happened in the midst of our visitation from Veronica, Barry and Malcolm. As much as Debbie and I were worried about Mom, and as much as we had to go and visit, we thoroughly enjoyed that visit. We did some fun stuff, like the beach, a family picnic and the Great Lakes Brewery. But we mostly had fun with Malcolm.

He is a real joy. And he seemed to have fun too. But here's the thing. He likes me. This is quite unusual, for kids are sometimes a little afraid of me. Other times, they are just cautious and standoff-ish with me. I don't take it personally; I just accept it.

Not Malcolm. He actually seeks me out to run (yes, run - walking always turns into running) with him, or to play in some other way. He seems to light up when he sees me. He calls both Debbie and me "Momma"!! (There's only the one "Dada".) What a joy.

How Not to do a Long Run

My last post was about how to run a 30-miler. I wrote that after a fairly successful long run, which resulted in me being reasonably happy with myself. Today I'll let you know how not to do such a thing.

0) Plan to do thirty miles, just like last week.
1) Don't visit with friends, eat wings and drink a couple glasses of wine the night before.
2) Don't take a couple prunes before bed in hopes that they will help move all the mail through.
3) Don't get an awful night's sleep the night before - partly due to the warm and humid conditions and partly due to those prunes on top of all that food and drink.
4) Don't get up at 2-something because you can't sleep.
5) Don't get out the door at 3:20am - well earlier than even *I* had hoped for.
6) Don't stumble back home after the first seven miles in search of a bathroom and more refreshments. This is already not going like last week's run.
7) Don't go out and do an 11-mile loop after the first 7.
8) (This one's important) Don't step on a stick with one foot, simultaneously hitting it head-on and tripping over it with the other, causing a sharp pain in the butt. This was an instant pull of some glute or upper hamstring muscle. Ouch. This is *definitely* not going like last week's run.
9) Don't let an incident such as the one in 8 rattle you. Or stop you dead in your tracks. Like it did to me.
10) Don't walk / stumble / struggle home after the incident described in 8. Of course there was no other way.
11) Don't only do two more miles at an 11+ minute pace because you're shot.
12) Don't resolve never to have a lousy run like this again.

The end.

How to Run 30 Miles ~or~ Dan the Man with the Plan: Out the Door Before Four for the Track Attack

Plans are usually good things to have. As Dan always says, a failure to plan is a plan to fail. The funny thing about plans is that if you don't follow them, they really aren't always all that great. But then once in a while, the new, improved plan still works.

But I'm sure you tuned in because you want to know how to run 30 miles. Here's how I do it, in cookbook format:

1) Wake up and get out of bed 25 minutes before the 3:20am alarm.
2) Plan to get out the door before four (am, that is).
3) Drink 2 cups of coffee; eat 2 nectarines.
4) Take some water and Endurolytes.
5) Struggle mightily to get the compression shorts and socks on.
6) Stumble out the door at 3:58am. At this point, things are still going according to plan.
7) Wander the three miles over to Brunswick High School. Notice along the way that OH-303 is still closed at the intersection of Troon due to yesterday's water main break.
8) Find the track <>. This is significant because up until a couple days ago, I hadn't found it open for something on the order of a year. I did manage to run there Tuesday morning, so I knew that this was a possibility.
9) Re-plan. At this point I am already *not* according to plan: the part of the plan that said that the 30 miles would be made up of five six-mile loops. This was so that I could keep returning home for short breaks and proper hydration and nutrition. Once I stepped on the track, I was already more than three miles away from home. The re-planning resulted in a new plan to do three ten-mile runs. Each one would include the three miles to the track, four miles on the track, and the three back home.
10) Wander around the track.
11) After running a bit over four miles, re-plan. This time decide to run two fifteen-mile runs. This means nine miles at the track plus the three there and three back each time. Don't ask why the decision was made to stay longer, because I don't have an answer.
12) Wander around the track some more. Do almost all these miles at just under nine-minute pace. Switch directions to avoid turning the same way all the time. Stop for h2o once or twice.
13) After nine miles at the track, run home to complete the first fifteen, feeling pretty beat.
14) Get more hydration and nutrition, a bottle of Heed, and head back out the door.
15) Wander over to the track once again. Now it's getting light. Decide on a whim to (instead of hitting the track) run around the high school and across 303 to near Brunswick Lake and the Nature Center. Who knows why?
16) Re-plan. Decide that the most recent two-fifteen miler plan wasn't all that bad, so go back to the track to do as much of that as possible.
17) Wander around the track.
18) Try to pick up the pace just a bit. Actually manage to do this successfully - at least down to 8:30-8:45 pace, thanks to a little help from the energy gels and Heed.
19) After seven or so track miles, determine that the total is 27, so begin to head home. The last two had been the fastest. Fancy that.
20) Stumble home, arriving four hours, twenty-nine and half minutes after the start.
21) Strest. (That's a combination of stretch and rest.

There once was an ancient runner in Brunswick

There once was an ancient runner in Brunswick

Who in past years fancied himself quite quick

But those days are long past

For today he’s not so fast

And to run at all is some kind of trick

When you wake up before 3am and are out the door running before 4am, things like this begin to bounce around in your head.

Among the other things bouncing up there were the "Questions Without Answers". You know the type. Stuff like:

How did I manage to gain seven pounds over three days?

How could Wednesday's 5K be so fast, whilst the associated 10K is so slow?

What's with those flying pink elephants I'm seeing?

And of course the kicker: Why am I doing this?

This, of course, is running at the ungodly hour of 4am. But I do actually have an answer for that one. Sort of.

I've got Moebius (maybe) and then NC24 on my horizon. This means I need to begin adding some miles. I'd been planning on about 24 today, but when I awoke 40 minutes earlier than my alarm, I started thinking 30. And with the heat index forecast for 110+ degrees today (real temps on the order of 97-98 up in cooler Cleveland), it's best to get going early.

So was it 24 or 30? Neither. I did three 6-mile loops, returning home for refreshments each time. At that point my legs were beginning to tire and it was getting hot, but I started running with friendly neighbor Rita Annes. That was helpful, as it's almost always better to run with someone else, and I did indeed need the company at that point. We did 6-7 together, and then I did a couple more to make 26 altogether.

I'll be sure to post something when I have the other answers.

The Fourth 'H'

During the summer months, runners often note that this or that race was subject to the Three H's: Hills, Heat and Humidity. The Medina Twin Sizzler 10K has them in spades, as it was especially hot and humid for this edition. I would like to add a fourth H to the mix: Humility.

The Sizzler is held on the 4th of July every year, and the entire Medina town square is buzzing with activity. Besides the 10K, there's a 5K, a 1-mile kids run, a walk, and various bicycle races. Just about everyone from the MCRR, and it seems, everyone from Medina is there.

You probably believe that I'm done talking about Four H's, and am ready to begin some long and boring description of my race(s). You would be almost right. But first there's at least one more instance of Four H's,

As I was getting out of my car to pick up my 5K and 10K bibs and shirt, a gentleman approached and asked me about the wording on my shirt. The front has the MCRR logo, and the back says, "Hinckley Hills, Serious Runners Only." I explained who the MCRR is, and that we run the hills in Hinckley almost every Sunday. I naturally tried to recruit him. He said he'd look us up. He was with a younger looking woman, and he said his name is Dennis.

After the 5K but before the 10K, I bumped into Tom Bieniosek, who happened to be talking with Dennis, whom, I'd met just 45 minutes before. It turns out that Dennis also has the last name of Horvath. The young woman was his daughter, and his wife was there as well. So there we were, four Horvaths, or another instance of Four H's.

On to the races. I haven't done very many of these 5K/10K type things of late. There's a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is my plethora of injuries along with the resulting lack of fitness, over the past year or so. Now that I'm beginning to feel better, even though I've still lost so much speed and strength, I have to begin again somewhere. And the Sizzler was the ticket; you just gotta do the Sizz.

After saying hello to gobs of my MCRR buddies before the start of the 5K, we were off. Everyone screams down that first hill, and then pays for it next mile and a half. Not me. I took it fairly easy for the first mile, and then tried to pick it up for the second. Well, that didn't quite go as planned, as both miles were a couple seconds over seven minutes.

Did I mention the heat? The 5K start was at 7:45am, so it wasn't too terrible yet. There was plenty of shade along the way. The humidity made it tough however. And of course, the humility.

I tried to pick it up some more for the third mile, and I think I actually succeeded this time. It's mostly downhill, with the final uphill at the end. My time was 21:02 on my watch.

That really isn't too terribly awful. It's better than last year (when I was still hurting from Mohican), but a minute slower than 2010.

For those that run the 5K in the 20 Minute range, there is a wait of nearly an hour before the start of the 10K. Some people hang around and talk, and take in refreshments during this time. My plan was to keep running, albeit easily, in order to stay loose and also get in some extra mileage. Well, that didn't quite go as planned, as I did jog a bit, but mostly talked with people such as the aforementioned Tom and Dennis, among others.


Now that the 9am 10K start was rolling around, the temperature was getting up there. In my mind, I could see the mercury shooting up to the top of the thermometer, and then exploding out the top. Or, as someone in FaceBook recently said, someone set the thermostat to 'hell'.


The 10K features more hills and less shade than the 5K. What's not to like? My plan for this one was to take it easy, and just run a steady pace. Well, that didn't quite go as planned. My mile times varied by as much as 20 seconds, but I think this was mostly due to the hills. I mostly averaged about 7:30 per mile.


And did I mention the heat? Oh yeah, I guess I did.


I came in at something like 47:15 on my watch. That's fearfully slow for the Dan of a couple years ago, but once again better than last year. No matter how you slice it, this 10K is always a tough one.


I took third in my age group for each race. The awards always seem to take forever, but it's a good time to kibbutz even further with friends.


The next day Joe Herbert informed me that my photo had appeared in the Medina Gazette. It's actually quite telling.

Toelio

Guy on his wedding night starts by taking his socks off. "What happened to your toes?" asked his new bride. The guy answers, "Toelio." She says, "You mean polio." "No, toelio," he goes on, "It's a childhood disease I had that leaves the toes all mangled and bent like this."

Next he takes his pants off. "What's wrong with your knees?" asks the bride. "Kneasels" he replies. "You must mean measles." "No, it was kneasles, a childhood disease that leaves the knees crooked and malformed like this."


When he takes is undershorts off, she says, "Don't tell me. Let me guess: you had Smallcox."


Now back to toelio. I call my black toenail that. It's my left big toe, and it's good and black. And painful. The worst part is that I seem to keep injuring it further, driving it to become even more black. Now I can put up with that little bit of pain, but last time I lost a big toenail, it wound up - six months later - becoming a *large* amount of pain. That would be when I had to extract it with the pliers because it was coming off anyway.


One root cause seems to be my Salomon XR Mission shoes. Gotta stop wearing those for anything more than a few miles.


Speaking of a few miles, I did do a few in them yesterday: 23 towpath ones to be exact. I've been hitting the TP fairly regularly for my Saturday medium to long runs. And of course there's always Hinckley on Sundays.


I think things are looking up a bit. The fact that my main malady of the moment is toelio, and not severe butt pain or PF, is telling. Those other problems haven't been 100% eradicated, but they have improved. 


It doesn't hurt to run any more!!! (in a small voice, at least not too much.)

Innarguably Innaugural - The Canton Marathon

Michelle Wolff, Debbie Scheel, Dan Daubner, Dan Horvath
and John Pavlick after meeting at 4am and driving to,
and arriving at Canton
Thanks to Dan Daubner for the photo

They spelled inaugural with two n's on the bib. Twice. But then they spelled it correctly on the ribbon attached to the medal. The medal, by the way, weighs in at about seventeen pounds. I'm going to donate it to the US Olympic Committee so that they can use if for hammer throw practice.

After answering the question, what were you thinking when you scheduled a medium-sized city marathon mid June? about a thousand times, the race committee's big day had finally arrived. The race was only a couple minutes away from the start. There were long porta-potty lines going right across the road that we believed we'd be starting the race on. We thought this because they had the pace signs all along the road there in front of the stadium, and because that's where everyone else was beginning to line up. So what if we'd trample the poor potty-goers.

That's when I got into a disagreement with Verrelle Wyatt. He told me that the start was way down and around the bend in a park. "No way," said I, "it's right here in front of us." And that's when a race official called out for all of us to follow her, pied-piper-like, to the actual start which was 3/4 mile away - right where Verrelle said it would be.

We arrived at 6:01am for the 6:00am start. Then they announced that the 6:00am start would actually occur at 6:20am, so I went for a jog to keep loose. I was going to say, keep warm, but it was already warm and humid. I was jogging back on the adjacent sidewalk at 6:15am, when the gun went off, sending the runners towards me, but on the road. I scuttled over far enough to go over the timing mats and then begin running in the desired direction. I suppose they figured that a delayed start followed by an early start at the same race equals an on-time start.

I don't mean to be overly critical. Some rookie, or should I say innaugural, mistakes could be expected. By and large, everything worked very well.

Even the weather. Going in, everyone was concerned about heat. At Cleveland, Boston, and gobs of other spring marathons it had been a major factor. The forecast for Canton wasn't hopeful either: the sunny high was to be in the mid to upper eighties. In fact, the skies stayed cloudy, the air humid, and it never got all that hot at all. There was even a misty rain and a brief downpour late in the race.

The other things that went well had to do with organization and planning. The aid stations, traffic control and finish line were all done exceedingly well. I know that runners come to expect these things at big races these days, but I appreciate all that went into the day.

How did my run go, you ask? I started out at an 8-minute pace and held that fairly well until mile 12 or so. That's when the hills started to take their toll on my pace. Half-way went by at just about 1:45.

The second half wasn't quite so spectacular. I slowed and then slowed some more. 20 miles went by at about 2:45. Even that isn't so awful, but I still had a 10K - and yet more slowing down - to go. 10-minute miles ensued as the hills only seemed to get bigger, I finished in 3:46 and change.

I'm pretty sure that all the hills caused me to run a slower than expected time. Yes, they were tough, but I've run tough ones before. I just don't like it when I slow down like that.

Even so, it was my least bad marathon in a while. Things can only keep getting better, right?

Endless Summer

This May they had to cancel the Madison, WI Marathon due to record high temperatures in the mid-nineties. This followed other events that were either canceled while in progress, or had to offer deferments or had to take other measures to deal with record high temperatures.

The Canton Marathon is tomorrow, and we'll see temperatures close to ninety. I'm not looking forward to that. Why O Why did they think that a big (okay medium) city marathon in June would be a good idea? The ones in April and May couldn't even manage. Okay, that's it for complaining and feeling sorry for myself. That's also it for running content.

2012 was already set to go down as the year with no winter. And now there's no spring, either. That's not all. There are tornadoes, flooding and drought galore. Hurricanes began well before hurricane season. And everything that grows, hibernates or seasonally migrates here in Ohio is very much ahead of schedule. All this after 2011 was one of the hottest years on record. The Climate Change Deniers are generally keeping quiet these days.

It baffles me how there can be anyone who denies that things are out of control. Their fallback position is that even if it is happening, we human beings aren't the cause of it. Sorry, but they're wrong about this as well. The link between our greenhouse gasses and the warming of the planet are well established. This consensus had been reached years ago, but the deniers had been fighting it with what I call the Big Lie. At least in those cases where fossil fuel industry money is behind the notion, it's a Big Lie. I'm aware that there may be a few deniers who simply don't know, or won't accept the truth. But now, as I say, they've piped down.

Surely most non-scientific types have to rely on what they hear from the scientific community. It's too bad that they also hear the 'other side' in the media. What isn't disclosed is that the other side  - the deniers - are almost entirely made up of people with a vested interest in the status-quo.

If we now accept that climate change is indeed happening, and that human activity is the cause, why do we even consider electing politicians who will only add to the problem? There is no shortage of ideas to at least curb some greenhouse emissions. We need more of these, not less. Some politicians want to kill any renewable energy ideas in favor of the narrow-minded, short sighted and short term policies that have gotten us to this point.

Humanity will survive climate change. Even some other species will do so. The planet will actually even recover some day. The only questions are how well, and when. How well will we survive and what quality of life will we have? And when will the planet be able - or be allowed to - recover? Or at least begin to turn things around.

Some day we'll all have to face our grandchildren who will grow up in a world much different from our own. Will we be able to say that we at least tried to keep the planet in decent shape for them?

For more on this topic, see my debate with Dave.

The Long and Shorts of It

If you like this blog, I'm happy about that. I hope you'll keep reading. If you don't, well, sorry.

Back to you folks that do. Naturally, you can read through these new posts as well as the older ones for free. But if you want to see it in book form, and also see some additional stuff that's not included here (because it's older, was intended for a different audience, etc.), you can go to amazon.com and get hold of my new book, The Long and Shorts of It. Please check it out; it's pretty cool.

Thank You. We will now return you to your regularly scheduled blogging.

Smashmouth Running

Here’s the sequence of events – complete with causality - as best I can describe them.

Dan with Angelina Lips

1. I started running about forty years ago. In the process, I also managed to get old. This caused
2. Plantar Fasciitis (PF) every now and then, including the latest bout that began a year and a half ago whilst attempting some speedwork on a treadmill. This caused
3. Slow Disease (SD). SD is insidious in that it enables me to continue running, albeit only very slowly. Time passed, but the SD continued. This caused
4. Disappointing times in races and workouts and general frustration. This caused
5. An attempt at a speed workout on the track about a month and a half ago. It was my first time at the track in months, so the SD was rearing its ugly head. I forged on anyway, and this caused
6. Me to pull something in my butt. It could be piriformis syndrome or some form of sciatica, but I prefer to simply call it Butt Syndrome (BS). This caused
7. Me to change my gait, however little, since I no longer had a full range of motion. This caused
8. Even more SD, and even more disappointing race results. Among these was the Cleveland Marathon of last week. This caused
9. Me to take several days off, something I hadn’t done since my previous debacle, the Jacksonville Marathon. This caused
10. General malaise, but then I actually began to feel a bit better. The PF was subsiding, and even the BS became a little better. Too bad the SD only got worse. All this caused
11. An urge to get out and run again. So I did six on Thursday, took Friday off, and then met up with some friends for a nice little run on the towpath Saturday. The plan was to run from Lock 29 to Station Road Bridge and back for an easy 14-miler. Patti Tomasello and Shari Geiger had turned back earlier, whilst Donna Hofmeister, Dave Gajewski, Jack McDaniel and I continued on to the Station Road Bridge area, took a break and then began to saunter back south to Lock 29. Things were going swimmingly, except for one minor, itsy-bitsy little problem. I still didn’t have full range of motion in my left leg due to the lingering effects of the BS. This caused
12. My foot to find the one board that was one-sixteenth of an inch above the rest, on the small wooden bridge we were traversing about nine miles into our run. This caused
13. Me to stumble forward. This caused
14. Me to grab onto the handrail on the side of the bridge to avoid falling directly, face-first, onto the bridge. This caused
15. Me to swing around to the right, smashing my face - especially my mouth - directly into the side of the bridge, rather than the floor. It also caused
16. Me to twist my butt, further hurting my BS. Naturally I was now flat on my back (how did I get there?) looking up at my friends, who all seemed very concerned (why weren’t they laughing their heads off?) This caused
17. Me to pause. Points 12 through 16 had taken all of a half-nanosecond, but had seemed to take place over hours or days. Now time was passing normally once again. I got up and hobbled back to Lock 29. My friends were nice enough to run slow to stay with me. This caused
18. Me to take some more time off, beginning today.

Cleveland Marathon Race Report in Backwards Order So It Has a Happy Ending

Mile 26.2: I cross the finish line with the clock saying something like 4:07. I can’t remember when I was this relieved to be done running.  It’s by far my slowest marathon ever. I don’t care. I only wanted to stop moving forward. Now that I have, I never want to think about running ever again. There is the usual amount of talking with friends and other runners, and I almost always enjoy this war-stories aspect of racing. But I have to get over to the store, and I’m also in a hurry to get out of the relentless sun. And I’m just about dead anyway. That sun had been as bad as I can remember from any race – even last year’s Another Dam 50K where it was in the mid to upper nineties. I stumble out of the Browns Stadium area as best I can.

It’s an awfully long uphill walk back to the car. I can still hear them: the announcers are saying that there is a heat advisory for runners and that everyone should be careful. I’m thinking, ‘why the heck (except heck wasn’t quite the word) are they saying this here at the finish line?’ I’m also quite annoyed by their poor attempts at humor (“I can’t even drive 26.2 miles!”) Perhaps I was just in a bad mood.

Mile 25.8: Ladd Clifford jumps out of the crowd to jog a hundred meters or so with me. Somehow, in the space of about 15 seconds, we are able to catch each other up on what happened in the entire race: how we each did, how our friends did, the current temperature, etc., etc.

This is a down-hill section on East 9^th Street where I ought to be running real fast. But it’s all I can do to hobble and keep from falling forward and doing a face plant. My mile pace is probably on the order of 15 minutes per mile.

Mile 25: I now realize that I’m not going to make it under four hours. I would need to increase my speed to better than ten minutes a mile, and that’s simply not going to happen. Not when each mile has continuously gotten slower with nothing to reverse the trend. Why was a four hour time important, anyway?

Mile 24: Somewhere around here, I hear from behind, “Had enough yet?” It’s Michelle Wolff, who goes cruising by at her usual steady pace. I can see that she will easily break four hours. And all I need to do is stay with her to do the same. I manage to do so… but only for a while. She gradually fades away into the future. The heat is nearly unbearable. I’m going out of my way to stay in the shady areas, sometimes I’m even running on the sidewalk.

Mile 21: At this point we move away from the lake. From past experience, I know that these next five miles will be the nastiest of all. We’ll be zigging and zagging up and down city streets through industrial and office parts of the city. It’s ugly, but not so bad when you’re running fast. Today I’m most definitely not. But all I need to do is to continue these ten minute miles in order to still finish under four hours. Shouldn’t be a problem.

Mile 20: Almost there! Well, not quite. The clock says 2:55, and I think, ‘things could be worse – all I have to do is nine, or even ten minute miles to finish in 3:50 or so.’ Terry Hawk passes me and says, “To think I used to do marathons that fast!” I reply “me too,” but he’s gone already. We’re out of Rockefeller Park and are now running along the lakeshore. The park was pretty, and this is too in a different way. I had hoped for some sort of breeze from the lake, but there’s none to be had. The water is as calm as it gets. And now I’m out in the sun again.

Mile 17: Moving from University Circle into Rockefeller Park on Martin Luther King Junior Drive, I’m in big-time pain. Every step hurts. This is arguably the prettiest part of the course, and I’m not enjoying it in the least. There’s construction on MLK Drive featuring orange barrels on each side. I run inside them in order to cut the tangents as much as possible. A few friends pass by. I think they can tell that I’m in pain. The only good thing for me here is that it’s shady.

Mile 15: Only about eleven to go. It’s getting tremendously hot, and we’re baking as we run into the sun on Chester. I just ran my first ten minute mile, but that’s only because I stopped to dig a gel packet out of my pocket at the aid station. I’ll get back down to nine-minute miles with no problem.

Mile 13: Hey, I’m half-way! And my time of 1:47 really isn’t that awful. All I need to do is run even or slightly negative splits, and I can still do something close to 3:30. That’s not so bad. The fact that each mile has been progressively slower than those prior doesn’t phase me; I’ll get through this. The half marathoners had split off a bit over a mile ago. It’s now a lot lonelier out here. I smile and wave as I see Chris Ganz and Larry Orwin on the side of the road cheering me on. The only little fly in the ointment is that everything hurts. Or put it this way: there’s nothing that doesn’t hurt.

Mile 10: The enthusiastic 7:59 per mile pace group passes by with hoopla galore. It makes me want to puke. It’s not my first such experience for the day, and I somehow feel that it won’t be the last. A mile or so ago we went up an extremely steep hill that almost killed me. Where did that come from? It wasn’t there last year. That hill caused me to run an 8:41 mile, the slowest of the day so far. Why does every part of my body hurt so much? Gee, I hope there isn’t an association with this pain and my slower pace.

Mile 8: I’ve run the last couple miles with Beth Bugner and Ladd Clifford. Ladd’s back has been bothering him, and he was thinking of dropping down to the half. I almost convince him to just run easy and finish the marathon with me. Almost, but not quite. Peer pressure doesn’t always work with Ladd. Beth on the other hand seems to be surging. Both Ladd and I are having a tough time keeping up with her. Eventually she moves on ahead, with Ladd in tow. I have to ask myself whether Beth is really surging or not. If not, that means that I’m slowing down. I decide not to think about it.

Mile 6: Debbie Scheel passes by and we run a little bit together. She had started back further than I, and had gone out easy. I tell her that she was smart. In my case, I don’t think I’d really gone out too fast. Most of my miles are in the 7:50 range, and I think that this will be sustainable.

Mile 3.5: The early miles have been a whole lot of fun. It seems like all my friends are out here with me, and I’m talking with all of them. The Veterans Memorial Bridge had been as spectacular as always. Edgewater park and neighborhood are great as well. So what if I’m not quite as fast as last year; I’m having fun.

Mile 0: It’s warm already. I’m in the up-front corral along with the 3:10 and 3:00 pace groups. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I snuck into a barrier opening. I talk with Jeannine Nicholson, and we finally find Ladd Clifford and a few other friends. These starts are always exciting and fun. I can’t wait to get going!

Prior to the Start: The group photo, and even the restroom line in Browns Stadium were fun. Good to see everyone. Can’t wait to get in line and run.

Had enough yet?

By Yourself, Or With Others?

That was always the follow-up question from the priest. There I was, in the confessional, admitting to 'impure thoughts and actions'. My answer to this question was, unfortunately, always no.

But of course here I'm talking about running, which is indeed pure. And as I discuss the subject with my  friends, it appears that some of them can't seem to run alone at all.

This used to strike me as a bit strange. I used to run alone almost all the time. It was mostly only Saturday mornings that were for running with friends. And now it seems that I'm evolving more towards the social running thing. I still do some runs alone, but the ones with friends are much better.

I'll be running with friends next week in Cleveland - about 20,000 of them. Today is the last long run. It'll be on the towpath with friends as well.

Fourth Again

Words cannot express the amount of fun it is to be back in the hunt. I already mentioned this a little in a previous post - Are You a Runner or a Racer? But then it happened again last week. I was running the National Crime Victims Rights Week 5K in Medina (don't bother googling it - it wasn't a huge one), and there I was, not too far at all behind the leaders.

Never mind that it was a tiny turnout. There were probably less than twenty of us. It didn't help that they started the race *early*! No, never mind any of that; I was in the hunt. And I could see the leaders - including Ladd Clifford - the whole time. I even passed someone during the final mile. I even even began catching the leaders.

Never mind that they were caught by a traffic signal (did I mention that it was a tiny race?). Alas, Ladd and the other two still had me. And my time, 22:20, was extremely slow. But I was in the hunt.

This was only a few days after the On My Own Two Feet Marathon. Then over the weekend, I ran fairly far and fairly well, including a decent Saturday treadmill run in Chicago and then two plus Hinckley loops on Sunday.

The fatigue did catch up with me a little bit today. I was pretty tuckered out. At least I'm not in any kind of tremendous pain any more. Pain yes, tremendous pain, no.

Tomorrow I'll be at it again.

Dreaming

I had a dream last night...

I was running Burning River. Surprisingly, it wasn't a nightmare. I was simply running it.

I hate that.

Are You a Runner or a Racer?

Terry Elsey asked this question of me a while back. My reaction was similar to Dorothy's when she was asked by Glinda whether she was a good witch or a bad witch. In other words the answer was, "huh?"

It is a good question to ask oneself however. No doubt you need to be a runner before becoming a racer. And no doubt there's nothing wrong with not being a racer. (In other words, not that there's anything wrong with that!) It's a bit like the difference between a runner and a jogger. It's a state of mind.

By the way, I like the saying I saw somewhere that said, if you don't know whether you're jogging or running, go faster.

I suppose you could say I float between being a runner and a racer. Racing only comes to play during races themselves, when the competitive spirit takes over. This is not to say that you need to be in the hunt for a top spot to be a racer - you may just be in competition with a couple others or even with yourself. Of course here's where the definition gets a little more blurry. More than it was before, even.

All this leads, of course, to the story of my most recent race: the On My Own Two Feet Marathon in Kent.

I had run the first half of the race with friends, some of whom were doing only the half marathon. The race was small potatoes. In fact, there were only twenty-something marathoners and eighty-something half-marathoners. But it was for a very good cause: victims of domestic abuse. The Race Director, Melissa Cairns, felt strongly about the subject, and we were all there to support her cause.

After that first half (it was two loops) in the cold rain, Ladd Clifford, Patti Tomasello, and several others were done, and Bob Pokorny, Beth Bugner and I continued on. The time had been slow by my usual standards - 1:53 or thereabouts, but the trails and mud had taken some toll.

As I pulled a little ahead of the others after the half, it dawned on us that no one was coming the other way (on this 1.5 mile stretch). Beth exclaimed, "hey - we could win a marathon!" When we finally did see someone coming, there was only one of him.

For a while I was in the hunt. At least I thought I was. Reality struck when I was passed by a female on the trails section - at about mile 17. I saw her and the lead guy again on a different out and back section of rail trail. They were, despite my best efforts, still pulling away from me.

The rain never stopped, and the trails became slicker and slicker. This is not to mention that I was also getting tireder and tireder. I never gave up on pushing the pace however. But there could be no doubt that I was slowing down in real terms. Even so, I was surprised again when another guy came from behind and passed me at the end of the trail section, with about a mile to go.

We talked a bit, but no matter what I did, I couldn't stay with him.

I finished as the third male with a time of 3:53. Even though it was a slow time, that competitive racing thing felt great while it lasted.

Now if I could only go back to being a runner long enough to run faster. An hour better would do.

If You Can't Run Well

If you can't run well, then run a lot. That's been my philosophy lately. Last year at this time, I was running well and running a lot. For a long time this year, with this PF flareup thing, the Jacksonville disaster and all, I couldn't do either. Now I'm finally pounding out the miles again, but they're slower than I could ever have imagined running miles could be. And the pain is fairly steady - no better, no worse. But if I so much as think about trying to pick up the pace... the PF lets me know about it. Kent is right around the corner; less than a week away. I ran 17 on the towpath yesterday, and will be doing 2 loops at Hinckley in less than an hour. At least that's the plan. That will give me well over 80 for the week, after 89 last week.

For Kent itself, I have no high hopes whatsoever. I want to get to the finish. Many of my friends are in Boston for tomorrow's race. I wish them luck, and I almost wish I could be there with them.

Serious

I try hard to not take myself too seriously. My running is another matter. I do take that seriously. Unfortunately, sometimes all that seriousness spills over. This can be a bad thing. It's hard to say for sure, but it probably started with my Mohican experience last year. Although I'd already been suffering with Plantar Fasciitis that had begun in January. But the running had otherwise been going well. And I'd had great expectations. The running gods struck me down that time, and I haven't been quite the same since. By the end of 2011, things were beginning to look up once again, and I was doing some serious thinking about my 2012 running. I'd probably do some marathons as well as an ultra or two. Under consideration was the new spring version of our NorthCoast 24-Hour Endurance Run. Just before my first serious race of 2012, the Jacksonville Breast Cancer Marathon, the gods struck again - the PF got bad again. This, just as things seemed to be really coming together in serious fashion. Since then, I've tried to get even only a little serious again. Or perhaps I should say that my running has been getting a little more serious.

Except that it hasn't. The pain is still there no matter how you cut it. I have been slowly (and I do mean slowly) getting the mileage back. But I can't lick the pain. Last week I did 20 in Connecticut, and it didn't go too badly for me. Today I did some Hinckley Hills, followed by some trails for the first few miles of the Hinckley Buzzard 50K Run. It didn't go well. I felt sort of like a misfit; I couldn't do roads well, and trails were even worse. I suppose I need some serious downtime. If I thought that would work, I'd do it. Seriously.

Newbies

They just make me sick. All the hoopla and happiness. Don't they know that they're supposed to be miserable? Yes, I'm talking about all you newbies out there. I went to Columbus (for the Last Chance for Boston Races) with some of you, and also met up with a few others. I had to put up with all the talk about accomplishments and joyful running. I had to cheer everyone on, and act like I meant it. Well I didn't. I'm miserable and unhappy, and I hate running. Everyone else ought to too. . . . Okay, I was kidding. Really. I absolutely love all you new runners, and I love the fact that you're out there accomplishing things. You are invigorating and enriching the sport that I've loved for 38 years or so. May you continue to join us oldies.